Epilogue
Sophia
My eyes burned as I sank into Sebastian’s overly soft leather sectional. The lights were off, and the windows were open, letting the far off song of crickets fill the room as I watched the news for the millionth time in the last fourteen days.
“It’s been two weeks since America’s Sweetheart, French Popstar Mason Albright, died in a tragic house fire in rural Hartwood Maine.” The news anchor’s voice was unbearably smooth, like she was discussing the weather, and not the love of my life burning to death.
And, just to twist the knife, Sebastian wasn’t even mentioned.
Not once.
Not in any of the reports.
Not in the obituaries.
Not at the candlelight vigils or the specials they aired in the middle of the night, looping clips of Mason’s most iconic performances like it would somehow soften the loss.
The man who likely followed her into the flames didn’t even make the crawl text.
Just Mason.
The pop icon. The sweetheart. The tragedy.
Never the person.
Never the woman who dropped two cubes of sugar in her tea and then forgot to drink it.
Never the one who hummed while brushing her teeth or stayed up way too late reading filthy monster smut with tabs sticking out of every dog-eared page.
They didn’t talk about the mother who spent her days covered in toddlers and couldn’t have been happier if she tried.
They never saw that version of her.
But I did.
And now she was gone.
In December, we’d all been prepared for Mason to die.
She’d been unresponsive. Fragile. Fading.
And even though it was sudden, at least we had time to brace for it. To start grieving before her final breath and get a plan in place.
But this?
Now we weren’t just mourning one unexpected loss, we were drowning in two.
Admittedly, the boys were taking it much harder than I was. Which... made sense.
I never really felt sadness. Not the way they did. Not in the way that stole your breath and pressed grief into your ribcage until it shattered you from the inside out.
But I still had to play the part.
Still had to nod at the right moments, cry when someone else cried, hold shaking hands and say all the correct platitudes.
It was exhausting.
Not because I didn’t care.
But because grief was heavy, and pretending to carry it in the same way as everyone else was starting to break my back.
Cameron hadn’t spoken a single word since we got news of the fire. That type of silence was weird for him. In all the time I’d known Cameron, he’d been a big man with an even bigger personality. A gentle giant who always had a smile on his face.
Now, he was a shell of a man who did his best to hide a growing drinking problem. He’d hid his sadness in a sea of cheap whisky and watered down beer. Last night, I’d found him passed out on the couch clutching one of Sebastian’s hoodies and the tanktop Mason had worn on her last night alive.
And I should’ve stopped him.
Should’ve said something.
Should’ve tried to save him from himself, that’s what a normal, loving partner would have done.
But I didn’t know how, which made me hate myself in ways I’d never expected.
The only one doing anything remotely productive right now was Lucian, which didn’t even make sense to me–and I was usually the one who made excuses for his less than savory behavior.
But, while Cameron and I crumbled, Lucian buckled down. For the last two weeks, every single thing the kids needed, he did.
Diapers.
Meals.
Grief counseling for toddlers who didn’t know how to spell death, but were somehow already mourning it.
He dried every tear, stayed up through every nightmare, and comforted three children who had no idea their lives had just ended twice over. He even found donor breast milk for Rosie when the stash Mason left in Leona’s freezer ran out.
And now, he was gone for the night, not out of avoidance, not to disappear, but because he took all three kids with him to deal with his family at Sebastian’s funeral.
Alone.
He hadn’t even asked for our help this morning, just packed them up and left. And, while I think he liked the distraction that came from playing Mr. Mom, I wished he was here. It was a lot easier to shoulder the burden when there was someone who’d loved Mason and Sebastian as I had.
I buried my face in my hands and let the weight of the last two weeks finally press down.
The news kept playing. The anchor’s voice was still too smooth for my liking. Another segment rolled, yet another montage of Mason singing under stage lights, dancing in ways I didn’t even know she could.
It was surreal. All of it. Like I’d been shoved into some alternate universe where Mason and Sebastian were still here instead of being gone.
And here I was, torturing myself with highlight reels of a life that didn’t exist anymore. Of a person the world thought they knew but never really did.
I reached for the remote, ready to shut it off. To end the performance. To stop pretending this grief felt the way it was supposed to.
But then–
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Violent pounding exploded against the front door.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. My head whipped toward the sound.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The pounding came again, louder this time, almost frenzied. It was as if someone was using their fists to break down the door.
For a second, I couldn’t move. My heart sputtered in my chest, and I debated running up stairs and pulling Cameron's big butt down stairs to see what was going on. That would have been the smart thing to do, but my body moved before my mind could.
Against any solid judgment, I stood and headed toward the front door. My socked feet slipped against the hard wood as I crossed the room in record speed, not even stopping to grab a weapon.
Again–that would have made too much sense.
My hands shook as the fumbled with the lock, my breath caught somewhere between my ribs and throat.
Eventually, the deadbolt clicked, I yanked the door open, and then I froze.
Blinking twice, I examined the person in front of me, not at all sure I was seeing them right. But, there in the pale porch light stood Mattie.
Her chest heaved and her face was streaked with dirt, and dried blood, and a hint of road rash. A half soaked hoodie clung to her body and her jeans looked as if someone had drug her for miles behind their car.
“Mattie?” I breathed.
Dark, feral eyes locked onto mine.
Mattie swayed forward half a step before catching herself on the door frame. Her mouth parted like she had something to say, but no words came out, only ragged, barely there breaths.
“... Are you okay?” I asked, despite the fact she was very obviously not okay.
I just wasn’t sure what else to say.
Mattie swallowed hard, her fingers curling into her hoodie as if that alone could keep her up right.
“I–I didn’t know where else to go.” Her voice was low and raspy. “I can’t go to the police. They wouldn’t understand, they wouldn’t believe me. But you–you will.”
I blinked, my mouth dry. “Mattie, believe you about what?”
Mattie looked over her shoulder as if she expected someone to appear behind her and yank her back into the darkness. After a moment of searching, she returned back to me.
“They’re alive,” she whispered.
And just like that, the world stopped spinning.
“I–What?” There’s no way I heard her right, or maybe this was all a stress induced nightmare.
Mattie took a deep breath and stood tall before resting her calloused hands on my forearms. She was as cold as a corpse.
“Mason and Sebastian. They’re alive, and I left them.” Her voice cracked as her grip on me tightened. “And I need your help to get them out.”
My lips parted with an exhale as my brow furrowed.
“What?” That was such a dumb word, but it was the only one I could manage.
“They’re not dead,” she pressed. “They’re trapped. Somewhere off-grid. Some kind of compound. And if we don’t help they’ll die for real.”
I stared at her, and for a long moment all I could do was listen to the crickets and feel the air thick with disbelief. The house behind me was still full of grief. But, slowly that grief morphed and reignited into something new, something more powerful.
Rage.
Pure, unadulterated fury.
And while I should have been skeptical of all of this, something in Mattie’s desperation made me believe her.
So, I straightened my back and plastered on a smile.
“Come inside.”
Mattie blinked. “What?”
“Come inside,” I said again, voice steel. “you’re going to tell me everything. And then we’re going to find them. And then I’m going to squash the insect of a man that decided they could hurt my pets.”