Forever Mason – Beaumont Series Read Online Heidi McLaughlin

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 126436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Forever Mason - Beaumont Series

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Heidi McLaughlin

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B09HL6XKTD
Book Information:

The long-awaited prequel to Forever My Girl is here!
Mason Powell. Best friend. Boyfriend. Husband. Father.
He’s the young man you know but have never met. He’s the man who chose love over friendship. He’s the man who would do anything for his family and friends.
He’s the man who stepped up when someone wasn’t there. He’s the man who has a story to tell.
Be there when Mason tells his life story. Be there when Mason falls in love with Katelyn.
Be there when Mason makes the fateful decision that ends his friendship with Liam Westbury. Be there when his life changes forever.
Be there when...
Books by Author:

Heidi McLaughlin



PROLOGUE

I lay in bed, staring at Mason’s pillow. The normal indent from his head is gone, and his side of the bed is cold. So very cold. I close my eyes and take myself back to last Friday when I’m standing in the parking lot before the bus leaves. I can’t remember if the rain had stopped, but it was cold out. The girls and I made the two-hour trip to watch Beaumont play, but we left early because it was cold.

Everything in my life is cold.

I’m cold.

The house is cold.

Mason’s cold.

Cold.

Cold.

Cold.

Today’s going to be cold despite the town turning out to pay their respects to my husband, but it’s not going to be enough, not for me.

Elle screams, and something crashes against the wall. I stay in bed and let my mother deal with it. She’s been so absent in my life and thinks showing up after my husband has died will erase the years of mental abuse she’s inflicted on me. The twins don’t like her. They’re particular about who they want around them. Peyton only wants her daddy, but since he’s not here, she’ll settle for Noah. Elle doesn’t want anyone. She wants to be left alone so she can grieve in her own way. My mother doesn’t understand this. She doesn’t grasp the fact she’s not wanted. And still, I lay in bed because moving hurts. This is the only time when my thoughts can be my own, when I don’t have people coming up to me and telling me how sorry they are Mason died. People come to my car during drop-off and make the stupid roll-down your window motion so they can express how sad they are. Does their sadness compare to mine? No. It never will. I lost my husband, my life as I have known it since I was fifteen years old. My twins lost their father, and because of their age, they’ll have very few memories of him as they grow older. I lost my fucking best friend, and people want to tell me that they’re hurting as if their pain should be on my shoulders.

When glass shatters, I throw the covers back and sit up. The girls are throwing a fit, and this isn’t fair to them. They’re five, and they don’t understand a loss like this. Sure, they lost their grandma, but the grief is different when it’s your parent, your sidekick, your constant.

With slow, methodical movements, I get out of bed and make my way to the kitchen. My mom stands at the stove, ignoring the fits happening behind her. Elle lays on the floor, kicking her feet and pulling her hair, while Peyton’s in the corner, balled up and sucking her thumb.

“You need to leave,” I say to my mom without getting her attention. Elle quiets and sits up.

She turns slowly. “You’re up.”

“You need to leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Leave. I don’t want you here. The girls don’t want you here.”

“Katelyn—”

“Fucking leave!” I point to the door.

My mother nods and takes her apron off. She folds it into a small square and sets it on the counter. It pisses me off, and I stomp over to it and unfold it so I can hang it on the hook where it goes, where she took it from.

“If you need—”

“The only thing I need is my husband, and he’s gone. Please don’t act like you care.”

She says nothing as she disappears into the garage. I fall to the ground, and within seconds my girls—mine and Mason’s—are in my arms. I hold them while they clutch onto me, and we cry. We cry so damn much for what we have lost and can never ever get back.

This is where my father-in-law finds us an hour later. He doesn’t chastise me when he comes in and sees us sitting there, he doesn’t tell me I need to get up, and he doesn’t try to take the girls away from me. He sits down and wraps his arms around us, and cries with us. We are all he has left of his family. He’s lost his wife and now his son.

It’s Elle who reminds us that we have something important to do today. I hug my girls and father-in-law tighter, and then we start to disentangle ourselves. My dad, because that is what he is to me, restarts the breakfast my mother attempted to make. The girls head off to their room to get ready, and for once, they’re quiet. They’re not arguing.

In the bathroom, I stand there and wait for my curling iron to heat up. On Friday, Mason shaved and left his shaving cream on the counter. He used to do this all the time, and on Saturday morning, he would put it away. Except Saturday has come and gone, and it’s still there. A stark reminder he’s not coming back. Part of me wants to convince myself he’s on a road trip and will be home at the end of the week, but the other half of me wants to know what I’m going to do when he doesn’t walk through the door.


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