Freedom after prison hadn't delivered me to a new life. It had dropped me into a different kind of void.
The world was vast, and I had nowhere to go. Who would take in someone with a record?
While I stood there lost in thought, Mason came back. He was carrying breakfast.
I glanced at the steaming coffee and pastries on the table, and my stomach lurched.
Years ago, I would have been wolfing it all down already.
Back then, I'd believed life held two perfect happinesses:
Good food, and the company of the person you loved.
Mason watched me standing frozen in place. He walked over, took my hand, and led me to the table.
I looked down at his fingers gripping mine, then at the food, and without warning a wave of nausea tore through me so violently my whole body seized.
I bolted to the bathroom and heaved over the sink, retching until there was nothing left,
until my eyes brimmed with involuntary tears.
In the mirror, I could see Mason standing behind me, his gaze fixed on my back.
His brow was furrowed. He looked terrible.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm taking you to the hospital."
He was already scrambling to gather his things before he'd finished the sentence.