AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m the goddamned governor of California,” she spits and under different circumstances, I would laugh at the irony. “If Ican’t control two girls, how will people expect me to control a state?”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, flinching from the pain as she digs her nails down to my jawbone. “I’m sorry.”
She stares at me for a moment, and I think, with all manner of sickness bubbling in my stomach, that she’s going to hit me.
Instead, she releases me.
And then her hand slaps across my face so hard, I taste blood in my mouth. I stumble, managing to grip the back of a chair, my vision growing spotty for a moment, before the feeling passes, leaving behind the burning sting of a sliced lip.
There’s a sickening moment of roaring silence.
Then a throat clears from the shadows.
Mom’s eyes go wide, but when Mason Carpenter steps out from a spot by the window, her gaze narrows to small dark slits.
“The funny thing about abusers,” Mason says, voice cold as winter and eyes dangerously dark in the dimly lit room. “Is no one ever thinks it’s a woman.”
Mom doesn’t say anything for a moment, instead choosing to smooth down her already perfect hair, instead.
Something passes between them. A warning. I can’t tell from who, but the tension is so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. Mason steps up beside me, towering over both my mother and me in a suit that looks like it was hand-crafted for his body. His scent envelopes me, bringing about an odd sense of safety.
My mother ignores him completely, turning back to me with a simmering rage behind her blue eyes. “Go home. Don’t let me see your face before I leave tomorrow.”
She turns for the door, only stopping before she opens it, sinister gaze flicking back to Mason.
“Oh, and don’t forget to take out the trash.”
And with that, she’s gone, leaving me still clutching my cheek as the blood oozes from my lip.
Her ring. It cut me.
I hate it here.
I need to go home. I need to hide in my room with the door locked, away from Missy. Away from Mom. Away from Michael and his expectations. I need a bandage and a bottle of wine.
I need to be alone.
Mason doesn’t say anything, though he turns to me with that same cold indifference he’d shown my mother. He takes my chin in his hand, softer than I would have ever thought possible out of a man his size, and lifts it to face him. Something dark and caustic passes over his gaze, before he quickly snuffs it out and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket.
“You shouldn’t have said that,” I say softly while he dabs at the blood on my lip. “My mother . . . she’ll make your life hell.”
“Seems she’s already doing that enough, for you.”
I swallow, my throat constricting when he shoves the handkerchief back in his pocket and steps away from me.
I don’t miss the way his hand clenches to a fist before he shoves it in his pocket.
“Come. I’ll drive you home.”
I almost open my mouth to argue, but what’s the point? For some reason, I would rather be with Mason than anyone on my mother’s team right now.
I follow him out the door and through the back hallway to the alleyway out the back door. He stays close to me as he walks me to the parking garage and toward his truck. The same truck he took me home in months ago.
The ride home is silent, save for the rock music playing quietly in the background. Mason seems to be lost in thought, but so am I.
When he pulls through the gate at home, I realize I haven’t said a single word the entire way home.
“Thank you for the ride. Seems you’re always saving me,” I chuckle, though it lacks any humor.
