Chapter 23
By the time I got home, I felt wrung out, like someone had stripped me down to nerves and bone. My chest still ached from holding myself together all day, and my head was pounding with everything I was trying, and failing, not to think about.
The cold cut deep as I crossed the parking lot, sharp enough to sting the inside of my nose. My fingers were stiff by the time I pulled my keys out. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, bury myself in blankets, and shut out the world for just one goddamn night.
But then I saw the shadow near my door.
My breath caught hard in my throat. My body locked up, and every ounce of warmth drained from my limbs. Andrew. My mind screamed it before my heart even had the chance to start racing.
I backed up a step, keys clenched tight between my fingers like some makeshift weapon. “What the hell are you doing here?” My voice cracked halfway through, raw and sharp.
The figure stepped into the weak light from the hall fixture.
Not Andrew.
Mason.
He looked… wrecked. Like someone had wrung him out and left him to dry. His hair was a mess, his clothes creased, and his usually tan skin was pale and blotchy. His blue eyes, normally so steady, were rimmed red, like he’d been crying.
“Mason,” I said, my voice hard despite the relief crawling up my spine. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Cass…” His voice cracked around my name, splintered and unsteady. “Please. I need to talk to you.”
I stared at him, caught between anger and confusion. “You show up at my apartment, after everything with Clara, and think this is a good idea?”
He scrubbed his hands over his face, shoulders slumping. “I didn’t know where else to go. I need... I need help, Cassidy.”
For a long moment, I hesitated, every protective instinct screaming to shut the door and lock it behind me. But something in his expression, raw, desperate, broken, stilled me.
With a sigh, I unlocked the door and stepped aside. “Don't make me regret this, Mason.”
Inside, I dropped my bag by the couch and turned on the lamp. He hovered by the door, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn’t sure if he should sit or bolt.
“You’ve been drinking,” I said flatly.
He winced, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“I went for a drive after I got the latest from Clara’s lawyer.
Ended up at a bar for… longer than I meant to.
Then I remembered you live nearby, and I…
” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I’ve been sitting out there for an hour trying to figure out what the hell to do. ”
I walked to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of wine, and popped the cork. Because, of course, this was my fucking life now. Without looking at him, I poured two glasses and handed one over.
“You want to explain why you’re here, Mason?” I asked, moving to the door and bolting it before sinking onto the couch and pulling a cushion tight against my chest like a shield.
He dropped into the armchair opposite me, looking smaller somehow, like the weight of everything was crushing him. He turned the glass in his hands, not drinking, just… stalling.
Finally, he whispered, “I fucked up, Cass. I fucked up so bad.”
“Yeah,” I said, sharper than I meant to. “You think?”
His gaze shot up to mine, watery and wrecked. “I need help.”
I waited, letting him come to terms with what he needed to say next.
“I’m going to lose everything,” he said, his voice cracking on the last word. “Clara. Jackson. The house. The business. Everything.”
My jaw clenched, anger and sympathy warring in my chest. “Start talking.”
He put his glass down on the side table and dragged both hands down his face, on a choppy exhale.
“I thought if I worked hard enough, made enough money, gave her everything, I could keep her, that she’d never want to leave me.
She's got it all backwards, Cass. I love her so much, so fucking much. But I never really felt good enough... like I didn't deserve her. When she got pregnant, I was… happy, Cass. Really fucking happy. Because I thought, ‘She won’t leave now.’ I married her, thinking I could be the man she deserved. But the more I tried to be enough, the more I kept falling short.”
I gripped the cushion tighter, my nails digging into the fabric. I wanted to lash out at him, but part of me understood. I knew what it felt like to not be enough on your own and want to be something, prove your worth.
He kept going, words spilling like he’d been holding them back too long.
“I hired Mel... Clara’s convinced I’m sleeping with her, but I swear to God I’m not.
.. I hired her to help clean up the mess at the company.
I was drowning, Cass. We were behind on deals, and I couldn’t keep up.
She was supposed to fix it. Instead, it got worse.
And when I was about to fire her, she offered to work for half her salary if I kept her on.
Said she’d make it right, Clara never had to know how bad it had gotten. ”
My stomach turned. “How bad, Mason?”
His silence was enough to make my heart pound harder.
“How. Bad.”
Finally, he whispered, “I had to double-mortgage the house. The company’s bleeding out. If something doesn’t change, in six months, there won’t be a business left.”
I stared at him, stunned, then snapped, “Are you fucking kidding me? Clara and Jackson are going to be left with nothing?”
“I didn’t want this!” His voice cracked, and then he buried his face in his hands.
“I never wanted any of this. I’ve never cheated on her, Cassidy.
Never. I swear on my life. I brought Mel to meetings because I needed to look like I had my shit together, and she made it seem like she was fixing everything.
But I dug in deeper this week, and it’s worse than I thought. ”
“How much worse?”
“She’s been buying shit on my credit cards. Expensive stuff. Things I never authorized. And I found emails. I think she tanked a few deals on purpose. I don’t even know why. I don’t know what she wants.”
I stared at him, my thoughts spinning so fast it made me dizzy.
I should’ve been disgusted. I should’ve walked away.
Instead, part of me wanted to tear Mel’s smug little narrative apart, because if Mason wasn’t lying, she wasn’t just destroying him; she was dismantling Clara and Jackson’s world too.
“Why would she do all that if nothing is going on between you?”
He raked both hands through his hair, looking one breath away from unravelling completely. “I don’t fucking know, Cass. I don’t know her outside of work. Someone referred her, and I thought she’d help. I thought I was fixing it. I thought I was fixing everything.”
I closed my eyes, drawing in a long, shaky breath, because if I didn’t, I was going to start screaming.
When I opened them again, I asked, “Do you have your laptop?”
His head snapped up, hope flashing across his face. “You’re… you’re going to help?”
“Not for you.” I set my glass down and levelled him with a hard look. “For Clara. For Jackson. And because I want to wipe that smug little smirk off Mel’s face. But listen to me carefully, if I find out you’re lying, if you did have an affair, I will bury you, Mason.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I’m not lying. I love her so much... I... I could never.”
“Good,” I said, standing. “Then you’re going to fire her. You’re going to get counselling. Individual and couples, if Clara’s willing. And you’re going to start telling her the truth. All of it.”
His eyes widened, panic flaring.
“And,” I sighed, rubbing my temples, “I’ll loan you enough to keep things afloat until we figure this out. But that’s it. No more secrets, Mason. We get to the bottom of this, and we figure out why the hell she’s targeting you.”
He nodded quickly, like a drowning man grabbing onto a lifeline.
A moment later, his laptop was on the coffee table, and I was elbow-deep in files and emails, combing through everything she’d touched.
I could do this. For once, I wasn’t cleaning up my own mess. I was making sure no one else's mess drowned the people I loved.
As I started to dig, one thought wouldn’t leave me alone:
Why was Mel doing this?
And how the fuck did we all end up here?