28. Reed

Reed

28

Being on the road was one of my favorite parts of my childhood.

Still to this day, long car rides remind me of my father.

He'd bring Sage and me on short trips when he had club business that wasn't dangerous. We'd take the truck, since we wouldn't all fit on a bike, and I'd always be stuck in the middle seat.

I didn't mind being sandwiched between the two of them. It was the safest place when my father's world didn't always feel that way. I'd relax in the center of the bench seat, watching the landscape change out the window as we drove from one town to the next.

Each place has its own heartbeat. Every city is a little different. On the road, you get to know what makes them unique, and you never know what's going to happen next.

Glancing over at Mason, I'm reminded of those peaceful times.

He's relaxed, sitting with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on my knee, avoiding the laptop in my lap. He's leaned back in his seat, and even though it's as far back as it will go, he still looks a little cramped.

But he doesn't seem to mind it as the breeze moves through the cracked window.

He's at peace.

Something changed in Vegas, and I sense he let go of a weight he was carrying around. After that meeting with his father, the burden on his shoulders seems lighter. It's almost enough to make me want to stay with him at his house in the desert forever.

We could be lost and just disappear.

Mason squeezes my knee, glancing over at me. "Hit a sticking point in the research?"

"Not exactly." I shake my head, turning back to my computer screen.

I've been scouring the internet since we left Vegas, and we're already on the outskirts of LA. Digging into how Carter operates his businesses and what his plans are with the hotel in San Francisco. Trying to understand it now that I've taken off my rose-colored glasses.

When I was dating Carter, I didn't know much about how he ran his business, and I didn't care. I was blinded by what I thought was love. This article was meant to be a puff piece to make him look good because I would have done anything to help him out.

Which is why, when he asked me to set my journalistic ethics aside for one article, I did. I was willing to do anything to appease him. But now that I have a clearer understanding, I'm relearning this story from every angle so I can write it for what it is.

I'm going to tell the truth.

Not just to get back at Carter, but because it's the right thing to do.

Honesty used to be the backbone of who I was. It was Carter who chipped that away.

When we met in college, he pretended he was impressed with how I was chasing my dreams without apology. He said the world of journalism can be brutal, and more times than not, someone ends up pissed off over what's been written. And he said he respected that I wanted to have a voice in that loud, overwhelming space.

I thought he appreciated that bravery, when really, I realized later, he just wanted to use it for his own benefit someday.

There are so many things about Carter I'm just now seeing. Six years, and I can't differentiate what part of our relationship was love and what was me molding myself to be who he needed. Every day I regain a little more of my backbone, and I'm faced with the sides of myself he started to erase.

Now, I just need to find the strength to hold onto that when I'm inevitably faced with him again.

"Your dad gave me an idea." I shut the laptop and slide it into my bag.

"That's not usually a good thing." Mason chuckles.

"Hear me out." I turn in my seat as Mason slides his hand between my thighs, not letting go of me. "I've been so focused on Zane Enterprises dismantling a historic building with their expansion, that I've been overlooking the key element… It's a historic building."

"I thought that was the problem. Technically it isn't. It's just old."

"No, technically, they just never applied for designation. But there's no time limit on that. So, if they can get it underway before the building proposal makes it through the Board of Supervisors, there's still a chance."

"Aren't you a little detective." He smiles. "So, you're going to convince them?"

"I emailed the owner and suggested it, but that's the best I can do." I sigh. "Otherwise, there's not really much that can kill the deal. No matter how terrible of an article I write, it's all going to be white noise if they throw enough money at it. Residents can complain all they want. If it's going to make the city money, they'll get their permit approved."

"Well, let's hope the owner hears you then."

Somewhere along the line, this building became a representation of my fight for freedom. I don't care about Carter's money or our apartment. I don't want anything I left behind. But I do want to stand on my own two legs and find my voice again.

I'm no longer hiding behind the fear. Carter uses his influence to his advantage in every relationship—to hurt me and to dismantle historic buildings.

I'll make sure he can't do that any longer.

The fate of this one building might not impact me personally, but it's my mission to set it free from him just like I'm doing for myself.

Or, at least, as I'm trying to do.

I briefly opened my emails to send a message to the owner of the building, and I saw Carter had once again found my new email address. Every time I try to change it, he figures it out.

His messages this time trail back to the day he trapped me in the alley outside of Twisted Roses. He's not giving up, and I don't know what he's fighting for anymore.

By the time I ran from him, he was beating me so frequently there were barely any good days between the bad ones. He doesn't like me. It's all a game of power and possession. Maybe it's that his ego took a hit, or that he's frustrated I'm not doing what he's telling me to. But he isn't holding on for love. And somehow, that's even more terrifying.

I glance over at Mason, thinking about what he said. He's the opposite of Carter, handing me himself without any expectations. And I keep taking him up on it, no matter who it hurts in the end.

The smart move would be to walk away before I leave us both in shambles. If only I could do it.

When we were in Vegas, I considered taking Sage up on his offer. But every time I do, it draws out that familiar ache in my chest. I've spent so many mornings waking up alone, and with Carter that was a comfort because I rarely had the strength to face him. But with Mason, I want to blink my eyes open and see his face.

With Mason, I wake up with a reason to leave my bed and start the day. With him, I'm met with his smile, and care, and a breakfast I probably don't deserve. And even on days he has early morning appointments, he leaves a note in that same spot on the fridge, with a plate inside to make sure I don't forget to eat that day.

Consistency.

Comfort.

Are my feelings for Mason a crutch or am I falling?

I shake that thought from my head. It's ridiculous. I just got out of a six-year relationship. If there was ever a time for my heart and my head to battle it out, now isn't that moment.

The noise of the city slowly fills the car, and the scenery changes as we enter LA. There's nothing pretty about this place, no matter what Hollywood wants people to think. The shine wears off when you've lived here for a few years.

Still, it's home, and my body relaxes at being back here.

"I think I'm going to sell the house." Mason cuts through the silence.

Glancing over at him, I see he's watching the road. And his admission feels like another loss I'm about to face.

I force a smile anyway. "It makes sense if you don't plan on ever moving back there."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." He taps the steering wheel. "Plus, then it'll free up some funds to get my own place in LA."

His own place.

I shouldn't be surprised when I'm not actually offering him anything. Still, it's a little kick in the chest with all we've shared.

"If space is the issue, I can talk to my brother."

"No." He squeezes my thigh. "That's not what I'm saying. I've just been one foot in and one foot out for a while. I moved here without actually moving here, if that makes sense."

"It does."

"I'm not going back to Vegas. There's nothing but bad memories in that place. It's time for me to actually put down roots."

I glance down at my leg when he says that. My jeans are cropped, showing off the bottom half of my calves, and I can still see the remnants of the tree he drew on my leg. The roots that reach down to my foot. I wish they were capable of grounding me.

"Where are you thinking of moving to?"

"Somewhere not too far from the shop." His gaze follows mine to my leg. "But maybe a halfway decent neighborhood."

"I can't figure out why they insist on keeping Twisted Roses in that location. Echo said there was a mugging next door just last week."

It made sense when the Twisted Kings ran it. It was a front for laundering dirty club money. But now they're a legit tattoo parlor with a reputation for inking celebrities, so it doesn't make sense that they still operate out of one of LA's most dangerous neighborhoods.

"Sage said they've been considering relocating the shop actually."

"They have?" And why don't I know that?

I've been so disconnected in San Francisco that even if I talk to Sage and Lyla regularly, I haven't been listening.

"Yeah, they've been scoping out some new locations. Nothing is final yet. I'll probably wait to buy until I know where we're going."

"That sounds like a good idea."

The question is—where am I going?

Back to San Francisco?

The thought has my skin crawling.

That city stopped being home the moment I stepped foot outside of it. And even if I know I always have a home at the Twisted Kings compound, I'm going to have to put down my own roots at some point.

It's the final ties I need to cut to break free from Carter. If I'm not going back, I need to rebuild my own life.

Mason rubs my leg. "Nothing's happening anytime soon."

I swear he reads my mind sometimes. He senses the worry I'm failing to bury.

"I know." Still, it does nothing to settle my nerves. "It's just a wild thought. My brother is married. Lyla is pregnant. The shop is moving. Everyone's taking next steps."

"You feel like you aren't." It's not a question because he reads me so easily. "You're only twenty-six, Reed. You're allowed to still be figuring it out."

"I'm not used to being the one figuring it out when I thought I'd already done that."

At eighteen, I had planned the rest of my life. I knew exactly how it was going to go. Now, it's all murky and none of it makes sense.

"Well, I'm here if you need anything."

The smile that beams out of him breaks my heart a little. It's so big and genuine, I believe it.

"Thank you, Mason." I place my hand over his. "For everything."

"Nothing to thank me for, Sticks. Happy to do it."

But as we sit in silence, heading back to reality, there's a lingering tension of who we are and who we aren't.

What we want and what we're running from.

Mason's scars aren't unlike mine. They're the catalyst in us trusting each other, while also what holds us back from trusting ourselves.

As we roll to a stop outside Twisted Roses, and I look up at the sign, something about it feels like a warning. Just like Mason, I've been running for a long time now. It might finally be time to stop.