Rose's Point Of View
"Talk to me, baby," Mason whispered, his voice a gravelly, trembling rumble against my mouth. One hand came up to cup my face, his thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. The gesture was so tender it made my chest ache with a longing I couldn't afford to indulge.
"Look at me and tell me the truth," he continued, his breath warm against my skin. "What the hell is going on?"
I just stared at him, unable to form words. The darkness of the media room felt like it was closing in, trapping the two of us in a tiny bubble of stolen air. My heart practically threw itself against my ribs, loud and frantic, while his hand on my cheek remained completely steady, warm, and entirely grounded. The contrast between his calm and my chaos felt almost cruel.
