Home > Reputation (Mason Family #2)(43)

Reputation (Mason Family #2)(43)
Author: Adriana Locke

I take a deep breath.

“This is going to be fine,” I tell myself. “You have nothing to worry about. Just trust the process. Manifest your future.”

I laugh at myself as I pull up my text app.

 

Me: Good news! Bree is sick. That sounds horrible. That’s not what I mean. Anyway, do you want to come over? *winks*

 

Immediately, his reply pops up.

 

Coy: On my way.

 

I look down at my shirt. It’s soaked from the dishes because I can’t seem to wash a glass without taking a bath right along with it.

I bite my lip as a crazy idea pops into my head.

It’s so … unlike me. But it might be fun.

It would definitely be fun.

I giggle.

“Screw it.”

I race to my bedroom and strip naked. The air is cold on my skin, and my nipples harden. I run a brush through my hair.

Just as I reach for my red satin robe, a knock sounds at the door.

A surge of excitement blasts through me as I slip the fabric against my skin. I start to tie it at my waist but decide to leave it open in a moment of confidence.

And leave my body on display.

“Who are you?” I ask myself as I pad down the hallway.

Well, he’s the one that promised oral reciprocation.

My body hums with anticipation. My heart fills with the comfort that being with Coy brings. It’s the only place I can find that sensation, and I never want to let it go.

I check the peephole to make sure it’s him before I open the door.

I lean against the doorframe and grin. “Hey.”

He looks me up and down, clearly not expecting me like this. He smiles appreciatively.

“Well, hello to you,” he says, stepping inside. He kicks the door closed. “Come here.”

I step in front of him. My heart thunders in my chest as he drags his gaze up and down my body.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m usually entirely too self-conscious to stand naked in the daylight in front of a man.

But, with Coy? I feel beautiful. Confident. Like … me. The me I’m supposed to be. The me that’s buried under insecurities and fears and obligations.

The me that loves him.

I stand on my tip-toes and kiss him. He kisses me back, but there’s a hesitation that has me pulling away before I’m ready.

My brows tug together as I peer up into his eyes.

The humor and mischief that I usually see in them are gone. Instead, uncertainty takes the stage in Coy’s handsome features.

I feel my spirits fall.

I grab the dangling ends of my tie and cover myself.

Something is wrong.

I know it.

But he wasn’t gone that long. What could’ve happened in that little while?

I open my mouth to ask but then it hits me: Meadow.

Fear licks at me. It’s a form of oral that I wasn’t expecting.

I back away from him as he wars with himself, biting his fingernail and shifting his gaze to the floor. Whatever this is about isn’t good. If it were, he wouldn’t look so miserable.

“Just tell me,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest in defense. As if, somehow, my posture will keep whatever Coy is about to say from inflicting damage on my heart.

“It’s … not a big deal.”

“Cool. Then tell me.”

He clears his throat. “Meadow called.”

“I know.”

“No, she called again.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he forces a swallow. “And I have to go to Nashville.”

Okay.

“I knew that.”

He stills. “Today.”

My arms drop slowly to my sides. What does Coy mean today? Like now?

My brain scrambles to make sense of this development—one that takes me by surprise. There are so many things that are still up in the air. He can’t just go.

But he’ll have to.

I take a deep breath and try not to let my anxieties take over.

“Did something happen?” I ask. “This seems … sudden.”

“There’s going to be a story drop today—it’s already on some sites—that says I’m either going to rehab or that I’m there now or something. I don’t know.”

That doesn’t make any sense.

“Why would that be a headline? It’s not true,” I say.

“I know. But apparently, Willa Welch and a new boyfriend of hers or something ran into a photographer last night and said something about it. So, naturally, that gets printed because I’m the easy target. It makes for a good headline.”

“So, because some girl you use to date—”

“Fake date.”

“A girl you fake dated,” I say, correcting myself, “can just say what she wants, and then that’s it for you?”

“Apparently.”

I close my eyes and try to stay calm.

Breathe, Bellamy.

“There’s something else,” he says carefully. “Meadow texted me on my way over here. There’s a picture of us at the hospital yesterday. Meadow’s team is trying to get it pulled, but I can’t guarantee that it’s not going to show up somewhere online.”

My breathing gets shallow. I stare at Coy in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

He shakes his head.

“Who is it of?” I ask.

“You, Joe, and me.”

“It’s of my dad?” I ask, bewildered. “At the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of … monster would do that?” My jaw continues to drop. “I mean, I knew those women at the desk figured out it was you, but they took pictures of my dad?”

“Yes. And you,” he says, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Lord, help me.

“What are they saying about it?” I ask. “Is that why you’re ‘at rehab’? Because you’re at an oncologist with an old man?”

He shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense but, in this world, it doesn’t have to.”

I pace a circle around the room, licking my lips.

“They could say anything, right? Like, if they can say you’re at rehab, they could say anything about any of us. People could show up here. Call my dad. Hound us.”

He nods. “Yes, that could happen. But it won’t. No one bothers my family. If it does happen, I’ll hire security for you. You know that.”

My shock turns into disbelief. “Hire security? What? Coy … how do you live like this?”

“It’s the business. I mean, I’m used to it. But …”

“But I’m not.”

I walk to the couch and sit down. I try to process this.

This is a lot. More than I bargained for, and I should’ve thought about this, but I didn’t.

But it’s fine. I’m fine. It’ll all be fine.

I look up at him. “So, you’re leaving. That’s what you’re telling me.”

“Yes. I have to. Meadow says I’ll likely lose my record deal—or, at the very least, my position in negotiations—if I don’t show up tomorrow morning. I don’t have a choice.”

Everyone has a choice.

Except my dad. He didn’t have a fucking choice about cancer.

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