“No, I’m all right.” He pauses, and I begin to feel hot from his scrutiny. “Are you okay?”

Those three words seem to flip a switch inside of me, and immediately the weight of what happened today presses against my eyelids. I’m not okay. Everything keeps blowing up in my face, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

“Yeah,” I mumble, trying for a fleeting smile. But it wobbles, and I quickly turn around, covering my face with my hands. I don’t want him to see me like this.

It’s quiet for a couple of beats, and I focus on trying to force the tears back into their ducts, until I feel gentle fingers prying my hands away from my face. My stomach flips at his touch.

“Alina,” he coaxes softly. “You don’t have to pretend to be okay around me.”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“Talk to me.” He reaches forward to push some of my hair behind my ear, fingertips skating across my cheek.

For a moment I’m too distracted to register what he said, but when I do, I force myself to take a step back, breaking the spell. With a sigh, I slink onto a stool, and he takes the one next to me, not unlike the night before. I wish we could go back to that.

“I got into this massive fight with Audrey.”

“About what?”

“I—I did something awful to her,” I say. “But she didn’t know until now. She immediately packed up her things and left when she found out.”

I peer at him to see his eyebrows have raised, though his face is free from judgment. “Must’ve been pretty serious.”

“I kissed her boyfriend,” I admit before I can stop myself, shame burning on my skin. Even though this is an ugly side of me I’d rather not show, there’s something about Mason that feels safe. “Before the accident. He wrote a letter to tell me he was in love with me, then he broke up with her and moved out. She found the letter today. I didn’t even know it existed.”

Mason processes the words, impassive, and nerves twist my insides. “Were you in love with him?” he asks finally.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t think so. He told me we were best friends before. Maybe I was just confused.”

“Sounds complicated,” he says, and the words are gentle.

“She probably won’t ever talk to me again.”

“Give her time. I’m sure she’ll come around.”

I can’t help the scoff that escapes me as I shake my head, thinking of the way her voice dripped with venom. “You didn’t see the way she looked at me. I fucked up big time.”

“We all fuck up,” he offers. “That’s what second chances are for.”