Page 105 of The Spare

The smell of the smoke as the bullet released and hit Father in the head.

The sound of his body when he hit the floor, so close to Stephanie their fingers touched. The lifeless look of their blue eyes as the blood pooled between them.

I shudder, bringing my hands to my face to try to scrub the memories away. But they won't leave like Maribel just did.

No.

Out of everyone and everything that leaves me, the memories won't go. Gripped tightly around my psyche, planted deep. So deep that no amount of culling has helped because, like with all things invasive, they come back, even if I think they're gone. But they'll never be gone.

The memories and the pain of that night are here to stay.

Chapter thirty-two

My Tears Are Yours

"Mason?" I call softly, knocking on the closet door. "Mason, can I please come in?"

My heart races, and tears prick my eyes at the sound of him weeping beyond the door. I crack it open, not waiting for a response, and my eyes widen at the sight of Mason sitting on the bench on the other side of the room, elbows on his knees, his phone in one hand and his forehead in the other, crying so hard he'sshaking.

Big heaving breaths fill the air, and I swipe a tear off my own cheek as I advance closer. His pain is my pain, always has been. However, I've only ever seen the strong Mason, never the broken down and hurt boy that lives inside of him. And everything in me wants to heal what's broken.

To make him whole again.

"Mase?" I call softly, reaching out for his phone.

He doesn't answer me.

As I pull the phone away, the phone lights up to show me a picture of him and his dad when he was much younger, probably around eleven years old, laying a floor together. I put the phone to the side, and my heart beats wildly as my fingers brush against his hand, seeing blood smearing his fingers, and noticing he's clutching something else within his grasp.

"Oh honey, you've-you've hurt yourself. Let me see." He lets me pry his fingers apart, and I gasp at the mangled paperclip wrapped around his forefinger so tight it's cutting off his blood circulation."Oh my God. Masey!"

"Go away, Melody. I don't want you to see this," he says in a raw voice.

My fingers fly to it, unwinding it from his finger and rubbing the raw skin. I lean in, nuzzling my lips to his jaw and running my hands up his arms. I snuggle in deeper, forcing his head back and straddling his lap slowly. I pull his head to my chest and stroke a hand down his hair and another down his back.

"You can cry, my love," I sniff, crying also. "You can tell me."

"He hates me, Melody."

My heart skips a beat at how tortured he sounds.

The blood turns to ice in my veins, and I shake my head because it simply isn't true. "No, Mason, he doesn't-"

He pulls back, his face red and damp with tears and his eyes swimming with misery as he stares into mine.

"Melody, all that man has done his entire life is push me away. He doesn't respect me. He thinks nothing of me.Nothing!"he spits. "All he cares about is Hendrix and thatstupid fucking company!"

"No, don't say that!" I gasp sharply. I put my fingers to either side of his cheeks and lean my forehead to his. "Mason, he loves you. Richard loves you!"

"No," he gasps, clutching at my hips so hard I wince. "No, he doesn't."

"Mason, he loves you so much. I know he… he approaches you with a tough love style. But hedoeslove you." I rock him slowly, feeling his tears soak my blouse. "When we fence, he's brought you up. He not only loves you, but he's also proud of you."

He pulls away from me, his eyes flickering between mine. Sad. "Then why doesn't hetellme, Melody? Why does he treat me like this?"

I wet my lips, feeling a shiver race up my spine. "Mason, he's been hurt."

"I'm hurting, too."