He’s gone. Mason is gone, and he’s never coming back.
The realization hits one second; I crumple to the ground the next.
Chapter 23
Lark
I bury my face in my hands, crying like the world is coming to an end.
I know it isn’t, but God, it feels like it is. It feels like every good thing has been burned away, every hope and dream gone up in smoke, leaving ash behind. I swear I can taste it, bitter in my mouth.
“I’m sorry,” Aria says with a sniff. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
I hiccup, coming back to my body to realize Aria is on the ground beside me, rubbing my back in slow, comforting circles. At least I’m sure they’re meant to be comforting.
“I want to be alone,” I say, shifting away from my sister. “Please.”
“Are you sure this is what you want, Lark?”
“Yes. I just need…a few minutes by myself.”
“No, I don’t mean that. I mean with Mason.” She sniffs again, a long, liquid sniff.
I glance up, shocked to see tears wetting Aria’s red cheeks. Her skin always turns cherry red when she’s upset. It’s one of the hazards of being a redhead and the reason Aria usually stubbornly refuses to cry except at funerals or other legitimately tragic moments.
So why is she crying now? When she got what she wanted, and proved beyond a doubt that she was right about Mason all along?
“What do you mean?” I ask thickly.
“I mean what just happened.” Aria motions toward the gate and the front yard beyond. “I know Mason lied, and I can’t believe he hid his plans to go to New York from you for so long. But maybe he’s telling the truth. Maybe he has changed.”
My jaw drops. I blink, then blink again, not knowing how to respond to this particular string of words coming from my sister’s mouth.
“He was so devastated,” Aria continues in a soft voice. “I could see it in his face, couldn’t you? That was real.”
“You’re taking his side? What the hell, Aria?” I shake my head and surge to my feet, needing to escape the insanity. “I can’t believe you’re taking his side.” I start toward the back door, but Aria grabs my hand.
“Of course I’m not taking his side. I’m on your side. Always. That’s why I knew I had to show you the lease, but I—”
“How did you get that, anyway?” I pull my hand from Aria’s grasp and spin to face my sister. “I asked you to quit snooping.”
“And I did, I swear,” Aria says. “I called Mason’s uncle three days ago asking if he had any of Mason’s things from before he left for New York, but I never heard back. But then I ran into Parker at the store yesterday, and he said he had a box of Mason’s old papers that he’d found in a desk upstairs and—” Aria breaks off with a sigh. “I knew I should tell him I wasn’t interested, but I thought there couldn’t be any harm in looking so…I did.”
“And you found exactly what you were hoping to find,” I say, my eyes going dry as a terrible numbness begins to settle in my chest.
I remember this feeling from the first time I lost Mason. It’s a self-defense mechanism—my heart battening down the hatches, shutting out the pain before it gets too debilitating—but it won’t last forever. Sooner or later, the numbness will wear off and the pain will rush back in, hotter and more miserable than before.
“I wasn’t hoping to find anything,” Aria says. “Not after dinner the other night. He seemed so genuinely committed to you and you were so happy. I really thought… I thought everything was going to be okay. Better than okay.”
“Well, you thought wrong.” I turn to go a second time, but Aria rushes around me, blocking the path to the door.
“Maybe not. Maybe he’s telling the truth. Four years is a long time.”
“You’re the one who says people don’t change.” My fingers curl into fists at my sides. “And you’re right. Even if he’s telling the truth, I’ll never be able to trust him. He’s too good at deceiving me. I’d never know when he was telling the truth, and when he wasn’t.”
Aria’s forehead furrows. “No, you wouldn’t, but…you can never really know, can you? About anyone? Doesn’t there come a point when you just have to decide to believe the best about a person and…let go? Isn’t that what faith is all about? Believing in something even when it’s hard or scary?” She holds my eyes with a long, searching look, as if she’s genuinely trying to sort out the answer to some burning question.
But for me the question is no longer relevant.
“What if Liam showed up on the front step this afternoon and begged you to come back to him?” I ask. “What if he swore he was a different person and promised you the life you’ve always wanted? Would you pack up your things and give it another shot?”