Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Guilt, regret, and confusion have followed me around ever since.
“Then what?” Blake asks.
“Then we just … didn’t keep our promise.”
Harley and Blake share a look like they don’t believe me.
“Denny …” Harley says. “Coming to get Mason was your idea.”
I groan. “I’m never drinking again.”
“So are you going to tell us what the real deal with you and Mason is?” Harley asks.
Fuck no. “I already told you.”
“We’re about to land, so is that your final answer?”
I swallow hard and nod.
“We still need you to show us where he lives. Can you at least do that?”
What am I going to do? If I say no and refuse to get off the plane, it will only bring more questions. Like why I’m so strongly against seeing him. If I say yes, I actually have to see him again. Plus, he’ll be pissed I sold him out.
Oh, who am I kidding. Mason’s going to be mad at me no matter what.
I fucked up, and then I ghosted him for two and a half years. Do I really think he’s going to greet me with open arms?
Ugh. I take it back. I’ll never drink again starting tomorrow.
Chapter Four
Mason
When my security system tells me the front gate to the property is opening, I’m stunned still for a moment. My sister and her husband are on vacation with their kids. Mom is right in front of me.
“Expecting company?” Mom asks.
“Maybe Ria is back early? No one else knows the gate code.”
“Apart from those rock stars you let stay here over Christmas.”
Dread sinks and lands in my gut. “Those fuckers sold me out.”
Theoretically, it could be Cash or maybe Thorne. When the band stayed here over winter, Thorne, Cash’s manager, and I kinda bonded. He or Cash might be back to catch up. Though, why wouldn’t they call first? It could be Cameron, but each time he has visited me out here, he’s used the buzzer. He doesn’t have the gate code.
Deep down, I know who it is. I’ve been waiting for it.
I knew trusting Cash to keep my location a secret was a mistake, but he already seemed to know I was in Montana, and if he’d told the guys from Eleven, they’d know exactly where to find me thanks to Denver. Cameron has known since I moved home, so I doubt he’d sell me out now. Unless he was getting too impatient about me coming back.
The sound of a car pulling up outside gets me out of my chair and moving toward the front closet where I keep my father’s old hunting rifle. It’s not loaded, but whoever’s outside doesn’t know that.
I throw open the front door and stomp outside into the frigid spring air, raising the rifle to point at the car.
As suspected, Harley tumbles out with his hands up. Someone tries to pull him back, but he swats them away.
“Whoa,” he says. “I’m Harley Valentine. I’m looking for Mason Nash.”
Ugh. Another person who doesn’t realize I’m me. In a way, it’s been great because I’ve been able to go to the store without being recognized. In other ways, it makes me self-conscious about how much I’ve “let myself go.”
“Why do you think I haven’t lowered my gun?” I snark.
His face morphs from confusion to surprise. “Mase? Is that … you? What—” His mouth slams shut, and I know what he was going to ask.
What happened?
Oh, you know, moved home to be close to my mom, have lived off home-cooked meals and brownies and all the delicious food that took away my hurt. I might have put on forty or so pounds since moving home. I’ve also grown out a beard, stopped trimming my thick black hair, and traded in my designer clothes for flannel.
And I like it. Because like this, I’m not Mason Nash.
I lower the rifle. “What are you doing here, Harley?”
“We came to get you back.”
“What makes you think I’d want to come back? I don’t even know why you’d want to. You had your own career—your own success.” Then his words register, and it hits me all at once. “What do you mean by we?”
Another guy gets out of the car, someone I don’t recognize. He’s built like a tank. He takes a protective stance next to Harley, and I’d have to guess he’s a bodyguard. I would say bringing a bodyguard is overkill, but I guess I did just point a weapon at him, so yeah, valid.
As the next body climbs out of the car, I hold my breath because out of everyone in this world, there’s only one person I’m desperate to see yet want him to go to hell at the very same time. My heart plummets when I see a head of blond hair.
Not my Denny, then.
It’s Blake.
“Plenty of boy bands have moved from five members to four. You don’t need me.” And I sure as fuck need none of them.