The NSC Boxset: Heart of Stone (270 page)

And that in itself shows us how strong the human race is, how resilient and brave each of us is. Even in death, even when our loved ones can no longer join us in that fight, we still carry on without them, striving to keep their memory alive. And that is how it should be, we fight when they couldn’t, when they lost their battle, we will one day win the war.

And I very much believe that.

This book has been a very difficult struggle for me. It has gripped my heart and twisted it until I could feel each drop of blood seep into my soul, until the tears I wrote through finally took my ability to write, but I got there in the end, I took Mason and Ava’s hands and I dragged them through to the bitter end with me.

And now, as we finally say our goodbyes to the most amazing couple I have adored from the very start, it’s time to hold each other’s hands and say a small prayer for those who this story is very near the truth. As we follow The Fox’s struggle through cancer, please bear a thought to each and every victim out there who has been taken from many loved ones due to this horrific disease.

And to those who managed to touch the light at the end of the tunnel and drag themselves through the hell just to reach that goal, I admire, respect and give each of you a piece of my soul.

You won. You fought and you kicked ass.

Fuck Cancer!

PART ONE

Sometimes, the only way to face the future is to accept the past.

Chapter One

Refusal

Ava

“BECAUSE I HAVE cancer.”

The towel dropped from his grip. His knees buckled and he dropped to his knees before me. I watched him fight to control the cry that left him when I uttered the words that destroyed him.

“I’m dying, Mason.”

He stared at me, confusion and disbelief contorting his beautiful face. I was surprisingly numb, I just stood staring back at him as he looked up at me. The room was so silent I could actually hear Greg snoring in the bedroom next door, the air sweeping in and out of Mason’s nose and the small gurgle my stomach made like clockwork every morning.

“Say something.”

He blinked at me, his legs now spread to the side of him as he sat on his hip. He dropped his gaze to my toes, his eyes unfocused but watery. “When did you find out?”

His voice was mechanical, almost robotic and I gulped at the lack of emotion. “Three days ago, the day before Greg’s funeral.”

He nodded slowly but refused to look at me. “Where?”

“Where?”

“Where is it?” He snapped at me. “On you,
in
you, where?”

“They’re umm, not too sure. Maybe . . . maybe everywhere.”

“Nah, where did it start? Your liver, your breast, in your stomach? Where?
WHERE?”

I jolted and fought back the tears that I knew would devastate me. I knew he wasn’t meaning to be cruel but his anger was too much to bear on top of it. “My breast.”

He finally looked up at me and narrowed his eyes. “No, you’re lying. I haven’t felt anything.”

“It’s more under my arm, just a tiny one.”

“Well a tiny one is good, right? Means it isn’t too far on, so you’ll be okay.”

“Mason . . .”

“They can do wonderful things now, baby.” He shot to his feet, his face now animated and his eyes back to life.

“Mason, it didn’t start in my breast. I just found the lump there but they think that may be a secondary site.”

He shrugged and smiled happily, “Ahh, you’ll be okay. Right, breakfast.”

I stared at the closed door for a long time when he shut it behind him. I didn’t know what to do. I had known Mason would need more support than I would to deal with it, but he wasn’t dealing with it at all. He was denying it. I needed him to be strong for me, I needed his determination and grit to get me through this.

I needed him to accept I was going to die.

* * *

I stood watching him from the kitchen door as he whipped the pancake batter. His firm muscular back rippled under the soft grey cotton t-shirt he always wore with his bed shorts. His arms swelled with the force of his beating as his legs visibly shook.

“Mason.”

He ladled a spoonful of the batter and poured it into the smoking pan, his long fingers curling around the handle as he tilted it left, right and then around, spreading it evenly and thinly. I was mesmerised by the action, my eyes following each shift and transfer of the mixture around the skillet.

“Mason, please.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as the frying pan flew across the room. It and half cooked pancake bounced off one of Courtney’s pristine glass cupboard doors, shattering the smoked glass and splintering the surrounding white wood. The pan skidded across the tiled floor until it came to rest under the sleek glass table to one side of the room.

My eyes flew open when my back hit the fridge, the contents of it rattling furiously behind me as jars and bottles fell and crashed against other items. Mason’s mouth collapsed over mine. His tears wet my lips, the salty liquid tingling my tongue as his fingers clawed at my vest until the material was crushed between his fists. His kiss was angry yet full of terror and heartache as a small sob ripped up his throat and I swallowed it from him, urgently trying to engulf his pain with it.

My own fists clawed at him as I splintered inside. “I won’t let you do this,” he hissed hurtfully at me as a hand yanked my hair and one cupped my chin harshly. “You won’t leave me, ever. You promised me Ava, you fucking promised you would stay with me.”

“Mason . . .”

“No.” He swiped desperately at his tears. “No.” He pushed back away from me and shook his head. “No.” That was all he said as he turned from me and walked out of the back door.

I stood immobile and silent as I listened to his car speed off the gravel driveway and disappear. He wasn’t going to let me die. He would fight with the devil to stop this, either that or he’d sell his soul to Satan himself for the chance to go with me.

He would never let me go, even in death.

Chapter Two

Repetition

Mason

NIRVANA HIT FIVE minutes after the snow tickled the back of my throat. My head flopped back against the back of the chair as my veins substantially relaxed and sighed in relief. “Fuck, yes.”

The blonde tart who hadn’t taken her eyes off me since I’d walked in, tilted her head to one side and studied me as my eyelashes slowly flickered in front of my vision. I was awestruck by how brown they were, they seemed to thicken with each slow blink until they tangibly swept the air away in front of me.

Blondie’s lips twisted until her sultry smile fascinated me. She was quite pretty, for a blonde anyway. Her tits looked plump and firm, her waist rounded out to sumptuous hips and her legs were long and slender, the short skirt she was wearing displaying the lean length of them openly. She reminded me of someone, and it wasn’t until she licked her lips that I realised it was Grace.

I pointed a finger at her as though thanking her for reminding me and pulled my phone from my pocket. The contacts blurred but I found who I needed and connected the call, cringing at the time. He wouldn’t be best pleased but whatever.

“What the hell, Mase?” He growled as he answered. His voice was full of sleep but I shrugged.

“Ava has cancer and she needs you.” He was silent for a moment and I chuckled, “Yeah, shit huh?”

“Mason?”

“Mmm,” I murmured as Blondie stood up and started swaying across the room towards me. I smiled at her before I dropped my eyes to watch the rhythm of her hips swing, her little pink skirt brushing over the top of her thighs.

“Please tell me you’re not high and that you are actually just drunk.”

“Ummm, no. I’m high.” I laughed at his gasp, “And fuck if it doesn’t feel good.”

“Jesus Christ.” He groaned and I narrowed my eyes on the blonde slut when she sat beside me and ran one of her long claws along my arm.

“Why are you in your pyjamas?” She asked with a humorous expression.

“Who the fuck is that?” Kade barked at me.

“No idea, she’s quite pretty though.”

“Mason, listen to me.” I could hear the restraint in his voice. I shivered when the tarts nail drew across my jawline. “You touch that bitch,” he continued, “and I swear to god I will personally hurt you.”

“Touch the bitch?” I lifted an eyebrow at
The bitch
as if she could hear Kade and she would take offence to his derogatory term. “Why would I touch her?”

“Where’s Ava?”

“Umm, at home I think. I dunno, I don’t want her. You can have her if you want.” As the words left me they cracked the ice forming around my heart but it soon solidified again, pushing the hurt back once again to where it was safe.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

He sounded mad but I would have thought he’d have been happy at my offer. After all, I was giving him something he’d wanted for over twenty years. “Ava, you still love her don’t you. Well, you can have her. It’s up to you though, I’ll leave it with you. I’m off, catch you later.”

“Maso . . .”

I brushed off the blonde’s hands as I pushed out of the chair. “Why are you touching me? I’m broken love, all of me. You’d be better off fucking someone who gives a shit.”

She stared at me with her pouty lips parted. I just shrugged and walked off.

* * *

“Baby,” I whispered as I slid in behind Ava. “Ava?”

“Mason?” she murmured as she twisted round to face me in bed. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, her nose was glowing and red and her hair was stuck to her face in clumps from where she’d been sweating.

“You look like shit, baby.”

Her eyes closed slowly then sadness overpowered her when she opened them and looked at me. “You’re stoned.”

“I—am.” I gave her a quick nod to confirm her statement and smiled at her. “But you are still so damn beautiful, stoned or not.”

I frowned as a tear slid from her eye and rolled down her cheek until it hit the pillow, the material soaking it up almost instantly. “You’re crying because I said you’re beautiful?” I asked as I wiped at another tear with my thumb. “That’s a bit daft.”

Her hand covered her mouth as her other reached out and cupped the side of my head. I nuzzled into it, planting a soft kiss into her palm as I inhaled her sweet scent. “Even your hand smells beautiful.” I told her with a soft sigh.

She gave me a small smile, “Thank you.”

I nodded at her, she was always polite, had always had perfect manners. I twisted my lips as I studied her, “Will you lose your hair?” I asked as I slid my hand into the soft copperness and twiddled a section between my fingers.

She swallowed but held my gaze. “I don’t know baby, but I would think so.”

I nodded again, “And your breast, will they take it away?” She cringed slightly and I pursed my lips, “What?”

She shook her head and forced a smile, “I . . . I would think so, maybe both.”

“But I love your tits, baby. That’s really not fair, is it?”

“No,” she whispered as another tear trotted across her cheek, its pace speeding up as it hit the edge of her face like it wanted to actually dive off her and hit the softness of the pillow with adventure.

“You’ll have to get one of those special bras they do, you know, for women that have had their boobs removed.” I told her as she continued to smile at me, but it wasn’t a happy smile, it was full of misery. “Don’t be sad, baby, I’m sure they do pretty ones, maybe even like that sexy red one you have. God I love that red lacy thing, with the matching thongs, Christ they drive me wild. But then again, that could be just you, you’re so bloody sexy.” I sighed and popped my lips, “I hope you’re still sexy with no breasts.”

“Uh-huh,” she choked out. She was coming down with a cold, I could hear it in her throat. “I hope so too, baby.”

I shrugged at her, “Well, I would imagine so, you’d be sexy with cavewoman armpits and a nanny McPhee wart.”

She smiled properly then, her eyes twinkling brightly. “Why Mr Fox, you do know how to woo a woman.”

“Well I should fucking hope so. You’re my wife, I’m supposed to make you feel sexy and beautiful.”

A small strangled sob caught in her throat. “And you do, every day Mason. Every god damned day.”

“Uh-huh,” I muttered when my eyes started to close. I sighed as her fingers slid through my hair gently, her caress rhythmic and hypnotic.

“Go to sleep, baby.”

I tried to nod but the lights dimmed and an angel reached for my hand. I was in awe as she looked identical to my wife, her wings the same copper colour as Ava’s hair and her bright green eyes smiling at me. “Wow,” I managed to say before I fell asleep. “You make a stunning angel, baby.”

“I hope so, Mason. I really hope so . . .”

Chapter Three

Rejection

Ava

I SLID THE pastries onto the rack as Courtney came up behind me. “What the hell, babe. You been up all night?” She asked as her eyes scanned the numerous plates of pastries and cakes.

“Yeah, Mason will be hungry.”

She narrowed her eyes on me before she repeated her curious perusal of the baked goods. Her eyes snapped back to mine when it sank in. Mason always used to be famished after a night on the coke. “Aww no, Ava. Please . . .”

I shrugged as I removed the next tray of apple muffins from the oven and hissed as my arm caught the oven door, my skin shrinking at the scorch. “Mm-hm.”

She stared at me in confusion, her pretty blue eyes dulling by the second. “I don’t understand. I mean, I know he’s been under pressure with Greg and everything.”

“This isn’t about Greg.”

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about Ava leaving me.” Mason cut in from behind us.

I turned to look at him. The muffins skidded across the room when I caught the suitcase in his hand. He was stood leaning against the frame, his gaze slowly inspecting each cake as if he was deliberating which to go for first. Even though he wasn’t looking at me I could tell he was coked up already.

“What?” Courtney gasped and turned to me.

“Oh didn’t she tell you?” Mason asked casually as he swiped up an almond croissant. “Yeah, she’s dying.”