42. Mason #2
I reluctantly hit answer. It’s silent at first, and I just sit there waiting. I’m not gonna be the first one to say anything. I don’t even want to be a part of this call.
“Mason? Are you there?”
I swallow. “Yep.”
“What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps. “Do you have any idea the kind of situation you just dropped in my lap?”
No, are you okay, son? No, how are you feeling? Nothing. I close my eyes, my head throbbing instantly from this conversation.
“Hey to you too.”
“Don’t get smart,” he fires back. “I just got off the phone with people who never should’ve had to call me in the first place. Do you know what an accident could do to football, to school? You can’t afford to be doing something as reckless as running a stop sign!”
“Well, good thing I’m alive, right? Wouldn’t wanna be more of a disappointment to you by dying.”
“I need you to cut the crap, Mason, and take this seriously.”
“I am!” I snap. “My friend is currently in surgery! Sorry if I’m a little more worried about him being okay than a damn sport or school!”
“And I’m stuck having to contact people I shouldn’t have to use to get your ass off a reckless driving charge! You’re lucky you didn’t kill anyone!”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to calm myself, trying not to think about whether that’s actually true or not. We still don’t know Tank’s state yet.
Before I can respond back to him, there’s a knock on the door. Two police officers walk in, all calm and professional. One older, one younger. The older one gives me a look of disappointment, and it makes my stomach drop.
“Mr. Sinclair?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Mind if we ask you a few questions?”
I hear my dad’s voice get sharper over the phone. “Who’s that?”
“The police,” I say quietly.
“Put me on speaker.”
I don’t want to. I really, really don’t want to.
But I do.
The officer glances at my phone, then at me. I give him a small nod.
“Yes, sir,” the officer says once my dad’s voice fills the room. “This is Officer Reynolds.”
My dad switches up his tone, making it smooth and professional now. The voice he uses when he needs to fix something or get his way.
“Officer,” my dad says smoothly. “I understand there was an accident involving my son.”
“Yes, sir. We’ve completed the initial assessment,” Reynolds replies. “The other driver was confirmed to be traveling approximately thirty miles per hour over the posted speed limit. However…your son failed to stop at a stop sign, and…his blood alcohol level was also brought to our attention.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
“What was it?” my dad asks, more irritated now.
The officer hesitates. “Point one-zero.”
That’s when my dad exhales sharply, not even surprised, just annoyed that this is something else he has to deal with.
“Christ,” he mutters. Then, to the officer, “I assume this complicates things.”
“It does,” Reynolds says carefully. “We’ll be filing a report.
Once he’s medically cleared, he’ll be transported for booking.
Given the circumstances, he’ll be charged with Operating Under the Influence, and depending on the status of the passenger after surgery, we may be looking at additional felony counts for serious bodily injury. ”
The emotions instantly rise in my throat, making the tears threaten to fall. But I hold them back, knowing I have to right now.
I hear a huff on the other side of the phone from my dad. “Okay, thanks. I’ll be reaching out to my lawyers here soon to get this all straightened out.”
AKA make it like it never happened.
I shake my head, so annoyed with his arrogance.
They leave quietly after that, telling me they will have someone stationed at the door at all times until I’m taken into custody, which my dad is adamant about having this cleared up before he lets that happen.
I’m still holding the phone when I notice her. Simone stands there frozen in the doorway, hearing everything that was just said. And I can see the disappointment in her eyes. They probably reflect mine and everyone else’s around me.
I drop my head, pressing my nails hard into my palm like I deserve the pain. I need it to distract me.
My dad’s voice snaps me back. “You want to explain to me why you were drinking in the middle of the day?”
“I wasn’t drunk,” I say, my voice cracking despite myself. “I didn’t crash because I was drunk.”
“You were over the limit, Mason.”
“I got distracted,” I insist. “Tank was talking, and I looked away for one second—”
“One second is all it took,” he cuts in. “And now I’m cleaning up another one of your messes.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” I snap.
“You don’t get a choice,” he fires back. “You represent me. You represent this family. You’re not throwing away your future and my legacy because you can’t seem to get your crap together.”
I laugh weakly. “That’s all you care about? Your name? I don’t think you’ve asked once how I was doing or if I was okay.”
“What I care about,” he says coldly, “is not wasting time on someone who doesn’t even care enough about himself to make smart decisions.”
My leg bounces under the sheet, the anger coursing through me, needing somewhere to go. I crack my neck, trying to ease the tension. “Well, that’s great. Is there anything else?”
Silence.
Then he finally speaks again. “Get your act together, Mason.” Then the line goes dead.
I let out a breath, throwing my phone down in front of me.
Simone walks closer, stopping beside my bed. “The officers said I only have ten minutes to talk to you, then I have to leave, and you can’t have any visitors.”
“I’m sorry,” I say immediately, pressing the palms of my hands to my eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
She cuts me off. “Why were you drinking during the day in the first place?”
I look at her, and I hate seeing the disappointment in her eyes. Hate it more than my dad’s anger. Hate it more than the pain in my head.
“You don’t make dumb decisions like this,” she continues quietly. “What’s going on with you?”
“I thought I was okay to drive,” I say. “I knew I was fine. I just—” My voice breaks.
“I was stupid.” Tears burn, and I wipe at my eyes angrily.
“This is all my fault. Tank is hurt because of me.” She reaches for me, but I shake my head.
“They won’t even tell me anything. There was so much blood, Simone.
So much. He’s in surgery right now because I didn’t stop at a damn stop sign, because I was too fucking distracted.
” My chest hurts so badly as I try to keep it together enough to talk.
“He’s fighting for his life because I couldn’t keep my damn eyes on the road. ”
Simone grabs my face firmly, forcing me to look at her. “You can’t change what happened,” she says, almost tenderly. “But right now he needs for you to stay positive. He’s going to make it, and then he’s going to need you after he does.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t hear how panicked they were when they brought him in.”
She leans down and presses her forehead to mine. The tears start to fall—anger, fear, and guilt all strangling me at the same time.
“Hey. He’s gonna be okay. It’s Tank.” She laughs weakly. “He’s gonna make it, and in a couple of weeks, he’s gonna be milking this whole thing with every girl on campus.”
A shaky laugh slips out of me before I can stop it.
“Yeah,” I sniff. “That sounds like him.”
I place my hand on the side of her face while her head is still pressed against mine. “Thank you for coming.”
“As soon as Tanner texted me, I was already in my car, speeding to get here.”
She steps back, one of her hands still holding on to mine.
“You actually care about me?” I tease.
She scoffs and shakes her head, then lightly slaps my arm. “Of course I care, idiot. Don’t you ever scare me like that again. You’re not allowed to leave me.”
If only she knew how much I’ve prayed that I never have to, even if I don’t deserve being around her in the first place.