Chapter 17 #2
Mason keeps looking at the door, hoping for Elena to walk in sooner. Even if he doesn’t know who her boyfriend is, her presence always cuts through the tension that he felt around his other family members.
“I’m sure your parents are proud of you,” Aunt Josie says.
“I think they are,” Mason responds.
It’s a passive aggressive response, hoping that they would actually be forced to say they were proud.
They never were. There was always something better he could accomplish. He could replace his mom at The Meridian Tribune and publish a bestselling book, and they would still find something wrong.
“We are,” his father says from the kitchen.
Mason takes an unconvincing sip of his cider.
“Well, you’ll have to do better and make them even more proud,” Josie says, nodding.
Mason stifles a sneer at her and takes another sip of his apple cider. He’s quickly running out.
“I hardly think that’s a necessary comment, Jose,” his mom says, looking insulted herself.
“How do you mean? I just meant that he can do great things.”
His mom sighs. “He already is. I think hearing it from us is enough.”
Aunt Josie opens her mouth to retort, but the doorbell rings and his mom immediately gets up to answer it.
Mason smiles at his mom’s ability to use her words to cut someone down.
She used it all the time and they’ve destroyed people, some people who didn’t necessarily deserve it, but his Aunt Josie did this time.
“Elena! So glad you’re finally here!” his mom exclaims as she welcomes them in. Mason hears boots stomping and jackets being taken.
His father walks over and starts taking it from them, obstructed from view.
Something in his stomach twists as he thinks about who just walked into his house. He has this unsettling feeling that the evening is only going to get worse.
“The traffic was terrible, luckily Elena has the patience of a saint, unlike me,” a familiar voice says in the foyer. A voice that makes his skin crawl and his stomach sink. He already knows before he walks in that his night is truly going to get worse.
Elena walks in and exclaims. “Mason!” She runs over to him, and he gets up and she hugs him so tightly.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. And Mrs. Fanning, I’m Joel.”
He can’t even process seeing Elena again as his eyes lock on the foyer and the emerging figure.
He squeezes Elena tighter, trying to grab onto something stable. One last fleeting moment of happiness before cold, blue eyes meet his.
For a second, he thinks it’s a coincidence, but all his hopes and dreams crumble as Joel Whitlock walks into his living room.
Metal forks and knives clang on the china as everyone silently eats their dinner.
Mason and Joel have been making tense eye contact all evening but haven’t said anything other than “hello” to each other. Mason’s waiting for the shoe to drop.
To think that Joel could at one point be his family member if his worst nightmares comes true and Elena decides to marry him.
“So, Joel, what’s it like to be a Montgomery student?” his dad asks in between bites.
“It’s good fun. I’m on the football team,” Joel says as he makes unwavering eye contact with Mason.
Mason clenches his fork harder and cuts into his turkey harder.
Both his dad and mom glance at Mason with confused looks.
“So you both must know each other then?” his mom asks.
Mason nods. “Yeah. I’ve mentioned him in some of my game coverages.”
“We also went to Northwood together,” Joel adds.
His mother squints at Mason and glances between Joel and Mason like there’s something they’re not telling her. Technically there isn’t, she just doesn’t know how much they dislike each other.
“He’s made quite a name for himself reporting on Callum at Montgomery, though,” Joel says with a smirk on his face, glancing between the table to gage their reactions.
Mason wants to kick Joel’s shin underneath the table.
“You’re reporting on Callum?” his dad asks in astonishment.
Mason realizes through this question that his dad hasn’t been reading his pieces, only his mom has. He’s not sure if he appreciates it or not.
Elena looks troubled and is likely wondering why there seems to be so much tension at the whole table. Meanwhile, Josie seems to be eating it up, likely chomping at the bit to see trouble under her sister’s roof.
Mason sighs. “I do a piece on the whole team. Callum’s the quarterback, so yes, he gets more attention sometimes,” Mason clarifies, shooting daggers at Joel, who seems to be reveling in Mason’s misery.
“And the player profile on Callum, of course.”
Mason wants to lunge at Joel, especially as Joel smirks before he eats a mouthful of pot pie.
Mason knows he’s one sentence away from his secret being revealed to his parents and when everything comes crashing down.
He should have known that he never should have said anything about his degree to Joel.
Joel likes to manipulate everyone to his own advantage, and this is probably making him so happy.
His mom takes this moment to try to get him to change his mind again.
“Mason, you should really try for another section of the paper. Reporting on Callum—”
Mason has to hold himself back from yelling at her. She thinks she’s protecting him, but she’s just infantilizing him.
“Mom. It’s fine. I’m in university now. I’m eighteen. I can hold my own.”
“Is there something I don’t know about Callum?” Joel asks innocently, even though he already knows the answer.
“Nothing. It was awhile ago,” Mason answers before anyone else can.
“Huh. Guess he and Mason don’t matter as much to each other than I thought,” Joel says, stabbing his green peas and shoveling them into his mouth as he chomps on them and stares with his steely blue eyes at Mason.
Mason fantasizes about hurling a saltshaker across the table at Joel, tackling him down, then picking him up and throwing him out onto the concrete, along with his Aunt Josie, who seems to be loving every minute of the tension, but then it would only make things worse for him. He’d never hear the end of it.
“Excuse me,” Mason says as he wipes his mouth and gets up, the wooden chair screeching across the floor as he walks off to the kitchen.
He stands in front of the sink and puts his hands on it, bracing himself as he takes deep breaths. He has to remind himself that it won’t all come crashing down. He won’t allow it.
Joel doesn’t have all the power over him.
His parents would have no reason to believe Joel if he told them about him majoring in physics instead of journalism. He’s on the paper, and he’s doing well. It would mean nothing coming from him.
Mason whips his phone out of his pocket and brings up his text thread with Callum, hovering his thumb over the message bar.
He thinks about Callum’s dinner table now. How quiet and tense it must be. Devoid of warmth and coziness. How Callum must be wishing could be anywhere else.
He sighs and starts typing.
Mason
I need to get out of here. Meet at our place?
He paces around the bathroom waiting for a response. He wonders if Callum even cares this much. What if he was overstepping? What if everything that happened between them was not as important to Callum as it was to Mason?
His phone buzzes and he picks it up immediately, biting his thumb nail.
Callum
I’ll come pick you up. Same house as always, right?
Just say when.
Mason’s chest clenches as he glances through the hallway to the dinner table. Would he even be able to leave? Maybe if he comes up with some kind of lie.
He watches as Elena and Joel snicker and laugh at something Aunt Josie says, and he hates looking at it. It’s a picture that makes his stomach churn and fear for his future. That he’ll be stuck in this house and stuck with his unsaid words forever.
He can’t let that happen.
Mason
Now. Please.
He clenches his phone harder in his hand and tries to pick up the courage to tell his family that he has to go. They can’t force him to stay. He can just say Aunt Josie was bothering him too much. He’ll pay for it later, but right now, he needs to go.
Callum
I’m getting in my truck now.
His phone feels lighter now, like all the pressure and doom of the day is removed with just one text. One message is all it took.
He takes one breath in and walks to the table.
“My friend is having an emergency, and she needs to see me. I’ll try to be back soon,” Mason says.
Worry paints his mom’s face. “Is Jenna okay?”
Mason nods. “Yeah, she’s fine, she just—needs a friend right now. I’ll be back soon.”
He immediately turns away, gets his coat, and walks out the door.
He’s free. For now.