Grand Lies by JC Hawke
27
Mase
If ever Iwere to break, I’d never pick her arms to be the ones I would fall into. But this wasn’t a choice. It was a need, and she showed up.
A feeling I’ve not felt for many years weighs heavy on me, a feeling I know comes with a loss.
As a child, my mother’s passing was hard to take. It didn’t make sense, and it impacted me for years. I thought it was my age that made it feel the way it did, but the ache in my chest now tells me I would never have been prepared when it came to losing them.
I thought I was strong.
Walking back to the house with Nina under my arm, I draw from her strength, but I know it won’t be enough.
Her head lifts to mine, and she gives me a strained smile. As we near the house, I stop where I stand and pull Nina into me.
“I’m sorry, Pix.” I kiss her head.
“Sorry?” she questions as I turn and walk towards my Bentley, leaving her behind. “Hey!” she shouts. “Mason, what about Scar?”
My gaze catches hers, anger brimming behind her deep chocolate pools. “I will see you at home.”
Her brows rise in surprise as I shut the door, start the engine and tear off out of the drive.
* * *
Nina
My heart burnsas I make my way up the front steps and into the house. I give a small smile to the Montgomerys who sit in the lounge, but I don’t stop, moving towards the kitchen where I see Lance leaning in the doorway.
I place my hand on his back. “Excuse me,” I whisper.
“Nina,” he utters softly, his face solemn.
I swallow down the lump in my throat and avoid eye contact with him. I can’t deal with Lance being nice right now. It will send me over the edge.
“Where’s Mase?” Elliot asks, tipping his chin.
I look around at the boys, shaking my head, not knowing what to say.
Charlie drops his head, his hands shoving deep in his suit trousers. He knows.
“He hates it here, I don’t blame him,” Scarlet murmurs from the island.
“He fucking left?” Elliot spits.
Any other day I’d defend him, but that’s the last thing she needs to hear right now. Walking to the island, I lean in and hug her shoulders. “What can I do?” I ask.
Her hand encases mine, squeezing tight. “Nothing. Mase is going to need you.”
“I know.” I just hope he lets me.
“Scarlet, honey.” Frey steps into the kitchen with red-rimmed eyes, the only tell that she’s upset. “Glen and I think it would be best that you come home with us this evening, or we can come here for a couple of weeks. We don’t want you here alone.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” She gives her a small smile, and I see the strength behind it. She pulls me tighter to her back and sets her shoulders square, already putting on a front, reminding me of her brother.
“I’m going to go get things straight at the office,” Charlie announces, nodding at Elliot then leaning down to kiss Scar on the forehead. “Call me if you need me, okay?”
“I’ll come with you,” Lance mutters, his hand on the back of his neck as if he is uncomfortable. He gives Scarlet an awkward nod then turns to leave. Charlie following behind.
“Where do you want to stay, Scar? You can come home with us, or we can come here,” Elliot asks.
“I can’t leave.” Her eyes fill with tears, and she bats them away. I look to Elliot, his own eyes shining. “I can’t leave them,” she adds.
Their sadness seeps into me as their heartache becomes my own. How can someone be here one day and gone the next. Just like that.
“Then we will come here. Give me an hour, yeah.” Elliot looks at me, and my stomach drops. I stand conflicted because that means an hour away from Mase. But Scarlet needs me too.
I nod my head, letting him know he can go.
“You don’t have to stay. You can go to him,” Scarlet tells me.
“I know, and I will.”
We sit in comfortable silence, her head resting on my shoulder as we allow the calmness in the house to settle between us.
* * *
After twistingmy key in the elevator, I stand with my foot tapping, and my hands running through my hair.
Emotions. I know he will be feeling so many of them right now. I expect it. But the unknown scares me because I have no idea what I will be walking into.
The only thing I do know is he will be hurting.
The doors slide open, and my heart sinks as the smell of cigarette smoke fills me, along with a heavy beat. It’s so loud I can’t make out the words.
Broken shards of a whiskey bottle lie at the bottom of the staircase, the amber liquid that it bathes in telling me he didn’t drink much of it.
Taking the steps two at a time, I push through the bedroom door, my shoulders dropping when I hear the shower running.
“Thank god.”
Just as I pass the bed, I kick a bottle. An empty bottle. Picking it up, I walk to the bathroom door and push it open, steam billowing out as I enter.
I can’t see anything. “Mase?”
Stepping around the tile wall, I find him lying motionless on the shower floor and completely naked.
I remove my shoes and drop down next to him, my clothes getting soaked through.
“This helps?” I ask, looking at him.
He shrugs, not giving me his eyes, but I can see the bags that sit beneath them. I didn’t notice before, but seeing him now, he looks tired.
“You don’t need to be here.”
“Yes, I do.” I take his hand and sit him up, pulling us both out of the spray.
He sways as he rights himself.
Looking up at me, his cold stare slices through me. “You’d be better off without me.”
I lick my lips, trying to find the right words. I get why he is lashing out, but it doesn’t make it easier to listen to.
Dropping my eyes, ignoring his comment as I grab a towel. “Get up, the water is going cold.”
“You should go, Nina. You shouldn’t be here,” he slurs.
“I want to be here. Now, get up.”
He grasps my face, bringing me close. “You wouldn’t want to be, not if you knew,” he snarls.
I go to grab his hand that holds me, and he yanks it back with a hiss. I grab his wrist, noting the stream of red running down his arm. “You’ve cut yourself.”
“I’m fine.” He shrugs me away, getting up in a rush and staggering from the shower as he makes his way into the bedroom.
“Here,” I hand him a towel to cover himself, but he doesn’t take it from me. “Let me see your hand.”
I watch as blood drips to the plush carpet.
“You’re perfect; you know that? So. Fucking. Perfect,” he sniggers. “You made it so easy for me. Then you left.” He swipes the blood from his forearm, and it splatters the bed.
His perfect body ripples as he jerks around the room on unsteady feet, and it only makes my heart hurt more.
“Mason, now isn’t the time, please.” I plead, holding out the towel to him.
He’s talking rubbish, and despite how much his words hurt, I know they’re coming from a place of pain.
“I didn’t come here to argue with you.”
“Why did you come here then? Huh? For this?” He starts to pull at his hardening length, and I turn, disgusted, leaving the room and leaving him. “Off you run.” He laughs at my retreating back.
Once I am out of sight, I take a moment, leaning on the bannister and taking in a deep breath.
Don’t let him push you away.
I go to the kitchen, find the first aid kit, and then grab the dustpan and brush and some kitchen roll. I clean up the mess at the bottom of the stairs, then make my way back to the bedroom, hoping he will have calmed down a little.
Mason is sitting on the ottoman when I enter the room, his eyes cast down at the ground. He has a pair of boxers on, and a towel is wrapped around his fist, the blood already tainting it a deep red.
I kneel at his feet and take his bloodied hand, not wanting to look into his eyes in case I find the anger that was there before.
The cut isn’t overly deep, but the alcohol he has consumed is making it bleed heavier. I try to wrap it the best I can, but I know he will need to get it checked.
Once I’m finished, I sit for a moment and stare at the ground between us.
Silently, he takes hold of my chin in his bandaged hand, lifting my head. Tears line his face, his eyes filled with so much pain it threatens to destroy the both of us.
But it’s my Mase.
“Promise me when I’m sober.”
“Baby.” I pull him to me, wanting nothing more than to take it all away.
I want to tell him that everything will be better in the morning, but I can’t promise that right now.
* * *
It’s beentwo weeks since Anthony passed away. The funeral was four days ago, and it’s only sent Mason deeper and harder into his grief. He won’t let anyone in, me and Scarlet included.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that he attended the funeral, but I was, considering I almost left without him when he refused to leave his office that morning. I felt proud when he joined me in the foyer, dressed in his sharp suit, face stoic as he masked the hurt.
Scarlet struggled through the ceremony, but Mason was there to hold her together.
They held each other up.
The boys have visited daily, but with Mason out of the office, Elliot needed to be in his place. He hates to see Mason hurt like he is, but he knows it’s part of the process.
We all want to help, but none of us knows how.
As much as Mason tried to change my mind, I decided to cancel my place in the showcase. I couldn’t put in the time it deserved, and with everything else that happened, it didn’t seem so important. I knew I couldn’t go away and leave him, not when I was afraid he would break at any minute.
I had all the time in the world to pursue my dreams.
Routine fell over us. Every morning I’d wake to an empty bed, the shower running, and the en suite door locked.
He works out, showers, goes to his home office until eleven at night, and then crawls into bed where he wraps me in his arms, neither of us getting any sleep.
Scarlet has been over twice, but I know things are strained between them since she asked Mason to come to the house to go through Anthony’s things. It’s probably the reason I’m lying alone in bed at two a.m. I know it has been on his mind since she asked.
Climbing from the bed, I make my way to his home gym, finding him running flat out on his treadmill with his earbuds in.
Satisfied he is home and safe, I go to the kitchen and make him a protein shake, then I leave it on the side and go back to bed.
* * *
Mase
My arms surround her,sweat dripping from my body and landing on her delicate throat. Her lashes fan out over her cheeks, and I watch as her chest rises and falls, full of life.
“Nina,” I whisper.
She stirs slightly, then jolts awake when she sees me hovering over her. I know she hasn’t been sleeping long.
“Mase?” Her hands push back my damp hair, her eyes searching my face. “What’s wrong?”
“I need you.” I drop my mouth to hers, pulling on her bottom lip before sweeping my tongue inside.
“Hmmm,” she moans, making my cock grow stiff.
She pulls at my vest, and I adjust my knees on the bed, leaning back to pull it over my head while she whips off her T-shirt.
“Baby,” I hum, my mouth wrapping around her nipple. “I have missed this. Us.”
Her back arches off the bed as she pushes herself farther into me. “Me too,” she whispers.
I pull her pyjama shorts from her legs, chucking them to the floor with our discarded tops.
With the need to feel her, I thrust forward, filling her. A sound rumbles from deep in my chest as her heat sheaths me. She calls out my name, my jaw slack against her neck as I hover over her, unable to move.
I roll my hips. Slowly. “Fuck!”
“Mase,” she pants, writhing on the stark white sheets.
She looks like an angel.
Lifting her leg around my waist, I slide in deeper, and we both moan out loud. I drop my head to hers, rocking into her, savouring the feel of her after being deprived so long.
Why did I keep myself from this?
* * *
Nina
“Morning, Pix.”
The hairs on my neck stand to attention as his arm wraps around my waist. I’m standing at the sink washing up my breakfast dishes, and the feel of his body at my back warms me to my core. I don’t know what changed last night, but I woke this morning to find him asleep and next to me in the bed. I thought it was progress, but this right now is a complete one-eighty from yesterday.
“Morning, is everything okay?” I ask, looking down at the hand that rests on my waist, noticing the navy cuff of his dress shirt and his Rolex watch. “You’re going to the office?”
I turn in his arms.
“Yeah. It’s about time.”
Reaching up, I smooth out the deep line that forms on his brow. “That sounds like a great idea.” I smile, pleased that he wants to go back. I thought I’d have to push him into it, and I don’t think I would have had the heart.
He nods, and I turn, carrying on with the dishes.
“Will you come with me?” he asks me, reaching for the cereal as a small smile tugs at his lips.
I get what feels like a zap of electricity right between my legs.
Shit. I didn’t realise how badly I needed him back.
“You wish, Bossman.” I wink. “If you’re going to the office, I will go see your sister. If you don’t mind.”
He juts out his chin, not answering me with actual words.
“If you don’t want me at the house, I won’t go, but I know Scar wants to sort through your father’s things, and someone should help her.”
I panic the moment the words are out. Why am I bringing up his dad?
Baby steps, Nina!
“I know,” he snaps, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I go to him, slipping my arms around his waist. “I won’t go today.”
“Me neither.”
“What? No, Mase, go to the office.”
“I don’t want to. I just thought maybe I should.”
Dropping my head to the side, I smooth a hand down his shirt. He looks so put together in his suit, yet inside he is still so broken.
“You should go to the office,” I tell him, placing a kiss on his smooth jaw.
He nods, knowing he needs to. “You’ll help Scar? Please.”
I wrap my arms around him, needing to get closer than I am, but knowing it’s physically impossible. But if it were, I’d follow my soul into the depths of his. “Of course, I will.”
* * *
It’s nine a.m.,and Mase is still here. He refused to let me shower alone, telling me he needed ‘a good luck fuck’ for his first day back at work. My man is back, and with that comes his insatiable appetite for me. Not that I am complaining.
He hangs from my lips, pulling them between his teeth as he walks us to the elevator. “Come with me,” he says between kisses.
“No. Go, now!” I laugh.
He pulls away from me, and his eyes grow hungry, but I see the hesitation lurking in the back of them.
“I spoke to George when you were dressing, told him you were going in today.”
He quirks a brow. “Did you now?” He shakes his head, knowing he can’t back out. “What would I do without you?” He leans in, giving me one more chaste kiss. “Tell Scar I will see her soon.”
I bite my lip, a feeling of contentment settling over me. “Okay.”
He winks, stepping away from me and entering the lift. “I love you, my beautiful Pixie.”
* * *
I amfoolish to spend my time doing anything other than actively looking for a job or studio, but in all honesty, I think I am in denial. I don’t want to be working right now, not when I feel like Mase needs me.
Scarlet doesn’t answer the door, so I wave Vinny off and let myself in. I find her in the main living room, her hair covered in purple hair dye.
“Hey!” I frown, moving around the sofa to pull her into a hug.
“Thank god you are here! Have I got the back?” She fans a hand around her head. “Dad normally checked—it’s the small things!” she tuts.
Spinning around, I check her hairline and see that she has missed a chunk. “Here, give me the brush.” I paint the area she missed and hand it back. “How have you been? Are the Montgomerys not here?” I ask, frowning as I eye the blob of dye on the rug beneath my feet.
That isn’t coming out.
“No, they left two days ago. Frey is a babe and like a mother to me, but god, she is just too much.”
“That’s a bad thing?” I smile, happy to see her so upbeat.
“Uh, yeah. She offers me food when I already have food, a coffee when I am sat with a tea. I swear they are waiting for me to break.”
“And are you—going to break? ‘Cause that would be okay.”
“Nina, I’m okay. Honestly.”
I eye her sceptically but she only evil eyes me back. “Okay, you sure you want to do this today?” I ask, pointing to the pile of things belonging to her dad that she has gathered on the table.
“Yes, it’s got to be done.”
“Right, I will put the kettle on.”
* * *
Four hours later
We are only halfway through the piles of clothes and boxes. I look to Scar, noticing her beautiful full smile. We have taken our time, pausing when needing to relish in anything that catches her attention. A photo that evokes a memory or a jumper that still smells of Anthony.
I just wish Mase could have been here.
Scarlet powers up the TV as she sits in a sea of boxes. Some will go into the attic and some to charities. Scarlet wants somebody to use the items and not have them sat, but insists the sentimental stuff stays—which is why we’re watching their home videos.
“Nina, look at this.”
“Is that you?” I laugh, taking in the image on the screen.
A little girl with dark hair is sitting naked in the kitchen sink.
“Yup. Dad always said I was the feral child.”
“I can see that.”
She eyes me with a scowl. “I can just imagine you with your perfect princess dresses and frilly socks,” she mocks.
“God, no. I was lucky if I got a pair of leggings that fit.”
“Shit. Sorry, Nina.”
“Don’t be.” I chuckle, reaching into the box at my feet and pulling out a smaller rectangular one.
“Here,” she calls. “Ha! Look at how chubby Elliot was.”
I carry the box with me, moving to stand behind her at the back of the sofa.
“No! That is not Elliot,” I snort out.
“Yep, that’s Mase next to him.”
“I can see Mase, but that does not look like El. I need to send this to the girls.”
I pull my phone out and snap a picture, sending it to Lucy and Megan with the caption ‘guess who?’
Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I bring my attention to the next box. Lifting the lid, I find a picture. It’s the same photo that Mason has in his home office. A photo of the Lowells before their heartache.
I pass it over Scarlet’s shoulder. “Here.”
“Oh, Dad told me about this day. Mason was stung by a bee seconds after this photo was taken.” My hand wraps around the notebook in the bottom of the box. It looks like a diary. It’s thick, heavy and worn around the edges. Scarlet carries on, “Apparently his face ballooned like it does when he is near a dog.” Scarlet laughs as I swipe my hand across the cover, clearing the dust that coats it. “Poor fucker. I hope we find that picture. Dad always said there was one, but Mason would hide it.”
“What’s this?” I ask, my thumb brushing over the initials that mark the bottom right corner.
“What’s what?” She asks, still staring at the photo in her hand, reliving memories of the past.
My brain misfires, trying to figure out what I am seeing. Without thought, I flick open the diary and begin to read the first page.
November 16, 1993.
Dear Mason.
My darling boy,
Snapping the book closed, I swallow the bile that rises in my throat. “Your mother’s name.”
“Ellis,” Scarlet tells me with a frown.
“Ellis. Marie. Lowell.” I remember Mason telling me after I danced for him that night.
“Yes, Ellis Marie. What’s wrong, Nina? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“The initials.” I trace them like I have many times before. The gilding and font exact. Unique and yet so familiar. “EML.”
“What about them?”
“I’ve seen them before, but on a piano.”
“Yeah, Mum’s. She was an incredible pianist. Dad said she would have played for the world someday, but she never wanted to leave this place.”
I suck in a breath as I lift my gaze to her. “Where is the piano?”
“Mason has it. Are you okay?”
