Fear.
It all weighs down on me, and I struggle to keep hold of the strong girl who can hold her ground. Keep her secrets safe.
“I can’t…” I shake my head. I can’t tell him. “I don’t want to lose you. Ican’t.”
Mason’s brows crease. “You’re not going to lose me.”
“He…”
“He what, Grace? Who are you afraid of?”
No, I can’t do this. Sebastian found my scars. There was no avoiding telling him what happened. After the warehouse, not giving him a name is more about keepingmesafe rather than him. Sebastian is already mixed up in this, whether he knows it or not. There’s nothing I can do about that. This is different. Mason has no reason to be involved. Telling him will only draw him into my world—put him in danger.How can I do that?
Whilst I was able to keep it from Sebastian, I don’t feel strong anymore.
I feel weak and tired.
Like I did when I was thirteen and a concerned teacher promised me nothing bad would happen if I told her who was hurting me. Except something bad did happen. And I watched her die.
“He’ll kill you,” I say, the lump in my throat not letting me speak much louder than a whisper.
“Nobody’s going to hurt me, Grace,” Mason says, squeezing my hand between both of his.
I want to believe him, but how can I? Mason doesn’t know what he’s capable of. I’ve seen it. I’veexperiencedit.
This isn’t the same situation as when I was thirteen. I know that. I’m not a child anymore. But I’ve never forgotten what happened that day. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed or how different the circumstances are. His threat from that day still runs through my veins—choking me until dark spots dance over my vision. “You don’t understand.”
“Grace, look at me.” Mason grasps my chin, tilting my face towards him. “No one is going to hurt me. I promise you. I know how to take care of myself. But I can’t properly take care ofyouif I don’t know who I’m fighting.”
My mouth opens and closes without any words, and Mason sighs, wiping a stray tear from my cheek before pulling me into his chest. The position is a little awkward, but our chairs are close enough that I don’t have to lean far. Mason holds the back of my head with one hand whilst the other is still clutched in mine, and my breath stutters against his shirt.
Maybe it’s the steady beat of his heart and the comfort I feel around him or the conviction in which he says he’ll be okay, but I find the words climbing to the surface.
“A… A-alexander Deveigne.” My words are quiet, but with the way Mason holds me tighter, I know he heard them.
“Please, you can’t tell him,” I say after a while.
“That’s why you ran last night, isn’t it? Not because of what you saw?” Mason asks, and I nod against his chest. “You should tell him, Grace.”
“I can’t. You don’t understand,” I say, lifting my head off his chest.
“I do understand, Grace. I heard Sebastian speaking with Lucas Hale last night. I know that man is connected to what happened with Sebastian’s parents,” he says, pushing my hair off my face. “But he wants to help you.”
“It’s not… Grace isn’t my real name,” I say, but Mason doesn’t look nearly as surprised at that as I thought he would. “You already knew that…”
Mason sighs. “I did, but I couldn’t find out anything else.”
“It’s Emery. Emery Grace Deveigne.”
Mason’s hand freezes on my face, and I can see the gears turning in his head before he brings his eyes back to mine. The more he puts together, the more hurt I see in him.
“H—” He coughs. “How…” he starts but doesn’t seem to be able to get the words out.
“My uncle,” I say softly, and he closes his eyes.
“Sebastian didn’t tell me what happened to you, only that it was bad…” It’s not a question exactly, but the look on my face must give him whatever answers he needs because he curses under his breath and pulls me back to him.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers against my hair, and I feel tears slipping down my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“I can’t tell him, Mason,” I say when I feel like I can talk again.
“Grace…”
“No. Promise me you won’t tell him,” I plead.
I feel his chest rise and fall against my cheek in a deep breath. “I promise.”
When we pull away, Mason clears his throat. The look of helplessness in his eyes is too much for me, so I focus on my hands instead.
“Let’s take a look at that ankle, shall we?” he asks, and I know it’s a distraction. I’m just not sure which one of us it’s for.