Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“So …” Harley says.
Blake slinks down in his seat and throws his head back. “It’s starting already.”
I reach for a fresh bottle of whatever’s left in this car and hand it to him. “Here. Drinking helps drown him out.”
“Oh, so that’s what you were doing for seven years on tour? Trying to drown out Harley?” Blake grins.
“Ha, ha, ha, so funny.” Though if that was my excuse for drinking in excess back then, I don’t know what my reasoning has been for the last two and a half years.
Oh, wait, yeah I do. His name is Mason Nash.
“Just you two wait,” Harley says. “I’m going to get you to agree to something by the end of the night.”
“We already agree you’re an overbearing workaholic, doesn’t that count?” I blink innocently at him, and Blake snorts.
“I’m not agreeing to anything unless all five of us are on board,” Blake says and then turns to me. “Mason’s still a hard no on this, right?”
I’m supposed to laugh, but it doesn’t come. Instead, I frown because I have no idea what Mason thinks. The more I try to think about where his head would be at, I’m reminded of the last time we saw each other, and that just depresses me.
“Done with this?” I take the bottle back off him and take large gulps.
“It’s like old times,” Blake says.
Yeah, it is. Harley’s focused on work, Blake’s as laid-back as he always was, and I’m drinking to forget.
It’s exactly like old times except for two big differences. Ryder’s missing, and so is the only voice of reason I’ve ever had: Mason.
A hand tries to rouse me from sleep, but I let out a muffled “Fuck off” and cuddle into … leather? Where am I? What is that loud humming? And why does it taste like I ate a bag of cotton balls last night?
I crack open an eye, and then Harley’s face comes into view. He looks perfectly perfect in every way, like he’s not as hungover as I am.
A laugh bounces off the walls of wherever we are, and when I sit up, I realize we’re back on the private plane and in the air. “Wha—”
“Who let Denny drink so much?” Blake.
I turn my head to where he is in a seat across the small aisle from me. “Why are you … Shouldn’t you still be in Vegas?”
“Road trip! Oh wait … Air trip?” Blake shakes it off. “We all decided last night to ambush Mason. Don’t you remember? We agreed if Mason says yes, we’ll all do the Eleven reunion.”
Those cotton balls suddenly feel like lead. “M-Mason?” I half expect him to be on the plane too, but when my gaze darts around the small space, it’s only the three of us and Brix.
Harley sits in the seat in front, the one facing me. “About that. Want to tell us what last night was about?”
Of all the times to get blackout drunk, last night was not the night to do it. Over the last ten years, I’ve built a tolerance to alcohol, and it takes a lot to make me forget. Trust me, I’ve tried. I usually don’t touch the stuff unless it’s at one of my parties—the ones I throw to try to stay relevant because they remind me that I’m not. Which makes me drink just to get through them.
“I remember jack all after everything we drank. What the hell was that? And why don’t you two look half as bad as me?”
“We stopped drinking after we decided to come to Montana.”
My eyes widen. “Montana? You know where Mason is?”
“You told us where he is.”
Oh fuck. “No. I mean … I don’t know if he’s definitely there or not.”
“We’ve heard from numerous sources where he is, but his address is difficult to locate. Even for Brix, who has hackers on speed dial.”
“He does?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t believe half the stuff Brix has access to. I will say, C4 is super fun to play with. But anyway, you told us how to find Mason. You’ve been to his house before.”
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. “We can’t go to Montana,” I blurt.
“And why is that?”
I shift in my seat. “This thing got parachutes on board? I’ll let myself out here.”
“Hey,” Harley says softly. “What happened between you and Mason?”
I swallow thickly. “Nothing!”
I’m sweating, and all I can smell is alcohol.
“Why don’t you want to see him?” Blake asks. “You two were solid back in the day.”
“Exactly. Back in the day. Want to know the last time we saw each other? The last night on tour.”
Both Harley’s and Blake’s eyebrows shoot up high.
“How is that possible?” Harley asks.
“We promised we wouldn’t drift apart and we’d keep in touch and then …” Then I kissed him. I can’t tell them that. I also can’t tell them the entire reason for radio silence now is me. I avoided Mason’s phone calls like the plague until one day he finally gave up.