This was an absolute, full-blown disaster. Cyan was an emotional tornado. Nick was a cold-hearted, prideful mess. The two of them were trapped in some dark, toxic orbit, pulling each other apart and destroying everything near them.
And Mason—sweet, simple, golden-retriever Mason—had just waded straight into the nuclear fallout with a smile and a pocketful of good intentions.
"Mason…" I began slowly, rubbing my temples. "You need to be really, really careful."
"I just want to check on him!" Mason said defensively. "Do you… do you have his actual number? Or his Instagram? Please, Noah. Just so I can make sure he's okay."
"Mason, Cyan is… he's complicated," I tried to explain, feeling like a mother trying to explain fire to a toddler. "He's got a lot of stuff going on. And Nick… if Nick finds out you're messaged him, he might make your life a living hell."
"I don't care about your brother," Mason said stubbornly, setting his jaw. "Please, Noah. Just his socials. That's all."
