Mistakes belong where they’re made, in the past.

I knew better, I knew this wouldn’t last.

It left me numb, dead in the ditch.

Love is wrong and my heart’s a bitch.

I stare out the window of Mason’s car as the city lights flicker on, although it’s not even dark yet. Classical music fills the cabin and my body is still humming from the rush of pleasure he gave me moments ago.

But nothing is okay.

I need to end this. What’s the saying? Get over one man by getting under another? I’m not interested for two reasons:

I’m not over what Jace did to me.

I’m not ready for another man to do the same.

That’s what I’ve been telling myself all day ever since I left Mr. Walker’s office. I don’t have time for fooling around and I’m not ready for anything serious. And that’s what this has become; it’s staring me right in the eyes.

This is serious. It’s too serious. I’m suffocating and what’s worse is that the minute I’m with Mason, the very second that he looks at me just right, says all the right things, the moment his lips press against mine and his skin touches mine, I’m done for.

I’m head over heels for Mason. I didn’t even hesitate when he told me to bend over my dining room table for him. I didn’t hesitate in the parking garage either. He’s had me from the very night we met.

There’s something about him that makes me weak, and I’m so very tired of being weak.

I can’t do this. I need to end it. Just the very thought ... it hurts.

“I—” I start to give him the honest truth, my whole truth. I don’t know how to be okay on my own and that’s my priority right now. That’s the bottom line. Pressing my back against the smooth leather and glancing at him in the driver’s seat, the words are right there on the tip of my tongue. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know what’s real and where I stand with anything, and I need space to figure it all out, but my phone goes off in my purse, the ringtone loud and obnoxious.

I let out a frustrated sigh, pulling it out and just missing a call from my mother. I almost call her back, but then I see the text messages. Dozens of them.

I hit the first one from Kat.

The last message makes me sick to my stomach. It’s going to be okay.

What’s going to be okay? What now? I scroll up to read the messages starting from the top.

OMG I just saw, are you okay?

Minutes later:

I can’t believe he did that to you!

Everything is all right, we’re going to get it taken down.

A chill slips like ice down my skin.

I don’t have to ask her what she’s talking about. Maddie sent me a link to the online article. It’s already been taken down, but she screenshotted it.

My heart sinks as I skim it, but my eyes keep flickering to the picture. It shows me and Jace, and right next to it, Jace and some beautiful woman. It’s obvious what the article was about and it makes me sick. My throat goes dry and tears prick my eyes.

Really? They posted this now? I think back to who I told and who would have heard about the apartment. It’s up for sale as of 4:00 p.m. today, so that was only five hours for someone to dig up the dirt. I can barely breathe.

“Jules?” Mason’s voice doesn’t stop me from reading. It’s not the worst thing that’s been said about me but it’s not kind, and it’s not true. I wasn’t turning a blind eye. There’s a difference. I truly didn’t know.

My anger only increases when I see what they’re saying about me now. I’m not running around town. I’m not spreading my legs … I can’t even finish this article. The last paragraph I read is:

Now that her husband is gone, she’s letting loose but choosing the same kind of man. The socialite doesn’t seem to care about her reputation anymore.

Whoever gave the details to the Daily Word knows that I’m seeing Mason but they don’t know how often, since they claim he cheated on me two nights ago. I’ve been with him every single night for weeks now.

Every insecurity in me is replaced by raw rage.

Heat dances along my skin. I’m not this person that they’re painting me to be. I’m on the edge of breaking into a million pieces. I told Mason this is why I didn’t want us to be public. I knew something like this would happen. I knew it!

Is that a stage of grief? Wanting to murder everyone?

I just want to be left alone.

I bite the inside of my cheek and place the phone in my lap as Mason’s hand lands on my thigh.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his eyes darting from me to the road.

“Take me home,” I say. I don’t bother to answer his question and and I lick my dry lips. My heart hurts too much.

“What’s wrong?” This time his voice is harder. The one he uses right before he turns me into a damn rag doll for his will and then magically fixes everything.

I’m done listening to men and I’m done rolling over for them.

“What’s wrong is that this isn’t working for me anymore,” I finally tell him, although I don’t know how, in an even tone that splits my heart right down the center. Guilt consumes the anger immediately. It slices through every emotion with the sharpest knife, the cut clean and quick, but the blood is pouring out and I know it’s not going to stop anytime soon.

I lean my head back against the headrest. “I want to go home.”

Mason’s quiet although his pissed-off expression reads loud and clear as he pushes down his turn signal.

The silence stretches between us and this awkward, horrific dread makes me squirm. I find myself going back to the screenshots. What’s really and truly messed up is that I feel safe and happy with Mason. If it were a different time, I could easily fall for him. I am easily falling for him. It’s as if I’m tumbling down a well in slow motion, giving me enough time as I fall to look up and admire the stonework before crashing to the black bottom of the abyss.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I say, reaffirming myself and him. “I need to be on my own.”

He doesn’t look at me and a long moment passes before he says anything at all. Mason’s voice is low when he asks, “Because of an article?” He grips the leather steering wheel until his knuckles are white. “I’ll take care of it,” he says. I’m sure he could fix all my problems. He’s so good at that.

But I need to fix myself. I need to be whole before I can give myself so completely to someone.

“It’s not the article.” The words drop one by one and my eyes burn.

“Is it your prick of a former husband?” he asks with disgust so apparent, I hate him in this moment. I confided in him about my deceased husband and yes, he may have hurt me, cheated on me and lied to me, but that’s not for Mason to judge. I still don’t even know how to feel about it all. How dare he speak about him like that?

“That’s exactly why this needs to stop.” My heart rages in my chest, hating me for being so raw, but I can’t stop.

“I’m not okay,” I say, feeling a burn in my eyes dampened from tears, but I don’t care, let them fall. Let everyone see and call me whatever they want. “I haven’t been okay and I’ve been running from it. You can’t just fix me. I can’t fall into another man’s arms and forget about everything I’m going through.”