Page 92 of Foxx
I smile and pick up my phone, and my stomach instantly drops.
Mason
I’m at the house. Where are you?
My heart beats faster, and I wonder if Dagger already got to him.
I thought you weren’t back for a couple more weeks?
Mason
I’m in town this weekend for Robby’s birthday, and wanted to check on you.
I conclude that if Mason knew anything, he’d be losing his fucking mind rather than talking the way he would any other day.
Mason
Where are you? When was the last time you were here? The plants are half dead.
Fuck me. I have to tell him the truth.
I’m working out.
Mason
What the fuck is going on, Mia? There’s barely any food here.
I don’t have a chance to reply before he sends another message.
Mason
Grady’s at 11.
Grady’s is the diner my family has gone to since we were kids, and it’s an order for me to meet him, not a request. I can’t tell Aiden I’m meeting him, or he’ll want to come, which would be a disaster. This might actually be perfect timing, with Aiden heading to Henderson. I have to handle this and make Mason understand.
I’ll be there.
* * *
My hands shake slightly on the wheel. I pull into Grady’s parking lot on the outskirts of Lakeside. Aiden left for the prison just before I headed out, so I didn’t have to explain anything. The sooner Aiden finds out if Dagger was involved in Nic’s rape and where he is, the sooner Dagger will be dead, and we can put all this behind us. But first, I have to survive this breakfast.
My dad used to take me and Nic to Grady’s for toast and strawberry jam when we were little, and a pang of grief hits me. They’re both gone. The orange booths and the smell of bacon frying are the same as they’ve always been. I walk through the door and see Mason sitting by the window.
“’Bout time, where the fuck have you been?” he says and takes a sip of coffee, then stands. “The house smells stale, Mia.” He gives me a brotherly hug, examining me closely as we take a seat. “Shady as fuck.” He shakes his head.
“I have a hard time being there, Mase,” I say truthfully. “I’d rather be anywhere else, especially with you gone.” This seems to appease him for the moment. The server interrupts, and we order breakfast. I make idle conversation as we eat, asking about Virginia, sharing which courses I’ve picked for the fall. I talk about everything and anything except Nic and the house, but he doesn’t let me off the hook as I push what’s left of my bacon and eggs around my plate.
“If you’re not at the house, where have you been, Mia?”
“I’ve made new friends… I’m getting shit ready for school…”
“Where?” he asks pointedly.
“Where?” I repeat.
“Where have you made new friends?”
I throw his question back at him. I get it. I’m his sister, but I don’t need a babysitter.
