Page 109 of Played

Chapter

Fifty-Five

MASON

King is going through his emails on his laptop, chewing on his lip and looking adorable. Thanks to Elijah’s glowing recommendation, alongside the fact that my boyfriend is incredibly good at his job, he’s been inundated with work and is able to cherry-pick the cases he wants to take on. While he’s still recovering, he’s agreed to focus on the less dangerous ones. No hunting down murderers for a while at least.

I zip up my hoodie and his head snaps up. “Where are you headed?”

I’ve been preparing myself for this conversation, but I’m still anxious about having it with him. And I have no idea why. I’m certain he won’t have an issue with it. Maybe because I still don’t identify as a “survivor of sexualabuse,” or maybe because I should have told him before now. I drop onto the sofa beside him. “I’m going to my support group.”

He blinks. “Support group?”

I nod. “It’s for male victims of abuse—or survivors, I’m told is the appropriate term. I’ve been going for a couple of months. This will be my fourth one.”

“And does it help?”

“Yeah. It does actually. And the guys I’ve met there are great. They listen and don’t judge, and they made me realize…”

King places a reassuring hand on my thigh, and I find the courage to finish that sentence. “That there was nothing I could have done to stop it from happening.”

“I’m glad it’s helped, baby.”

“So you don’t mind me leaving you alone? I’ll only be gone a few hours, and I really could use some of their help right now. Finding out about Cassidy is bringing up all these feelings of guilt and stuff.” I screw my eyes closed, hoping that me needing them doesn’t make King feel like I don’t need him.

“Of course. Do whatever you need to.”

“They just get it in a way that other people don’t and?—”

“Mase!” He takes my face in his hands. “I understand. I can tell you one million times that you have nothing to feel guilty about, but I get that talking about it with people who’ve been through something similar must offer an entirely different perspective. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

“That goes both ways, King. I’m here for whatever you need too.” I don’t mention that I think he’d benefit from some therapy to deal with all the trauma from his childhood and what happened a few days ago. He needs time to process everything, and for now, he prefers to do that by keeping himself busy.

“I know.” He kisses me softly. “Right now, you are all I need. I promise. Go to your meeting, and I’ll be here waiting for you to come back and tell me how it went.”

“I love you so fucking much, mi rey.”

“Love you too, baby boy.”

King was right.Speaking with people who’ve been through a similar experience offers me a different perspective. After I shared the immense feelings of guilt that have been dredged up after discovering my abuser went on to hurt other people, many of them share comparable stories of their own.

“Abusers very rarely have just one victim,” Peter tells me solemnly. The others in the group voice their agreement.

“Ain’t nobody responsible for what he did but him,” Chris, the guy who runs the group adds—a statement that is met with more fervent agreement.

By the time I leave the meeting, I feel much lighter. The same way I always do. I can see why Maddox still attends his support groups after seven years of sobriety.

But there’s still one thing I need to take care of. I dial Nathan, and he answers after a few rings. “Hey, Mase.”

“Nathan, I need a favor.”

“Anything.”

I brace myself and ask. “Can you get me into a jail?”

“A specific jail, or will any of them do?”

“Wherever King’s father is being held. I want to see him. Can you make it happen?”