Chapter Thirty Mason #2
“Your age and maturity are only so much of an excuse. You have no idea the kind of pain you’ve caused me. I can’t believe you had the fucking gall to show up holding hands with a boy who convinced you he’s better for you than a mature, reliable, financially stable man.”
…
“So, here’s what’s going to happen. First, you’re going to apologize.”
…
“I’m waiting.”
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
…
“For what, Mason?”
“…Not giving you another chance.”
“But you are. Right now. So what else are you apologizing for?”
“…Being immature.”
“Right. You’re young. You’ll make mistakes. But I can’t let this be one of them. Down the road, you’ll thank me for knocking sense into you.”
…
“Don’t look at me like that. I promised I’ll be better for you, and I intend to keep that promise. Which is apparently more than what you can do.”
…
“So this is what happens next. We go inside and tell our parents the good news. You tell your little boyfriend to walk his ass home. After the banquet, I’ll properly propose again. We’ll pretend the last several months didn’t happen. Okay?”
…
“Hello? Am I talking to a fucking wall?”
“Okay.”
“That’s better. So let’s head inside and—”
Suddenly, Liam’s grip around me disappears. His eyes widen as he stumbles, having been wrenched back by a blurred force. Before I can come fully into focus, I’m being swathed in someone’s arms, my head nudged into their chest.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I promised I wouldn’t let him touch you again. I’m so sorry.”
I blink into the sapphire-blue vest. These arms…they’re not as long as Liam’s, but they’re gentler. Warmer. “Cameron,” I whisper, my eyes sagging. “Can we go home?”
“Yes. We’ll walk across the street. My parents are hanging out at a bar a couple minutes from here.”
“Okay.”
The person around me is yanked back again, sliding through my stubborn grasp.
Suddenly, I’m watching him get thrown to the ground, hard enough and at the perfect angle for him to bash his chin into the asphalt.
I feel the color drain from my cheeks as Cameron’s skin splits, causing blood to surface.
“Unbelievable,” Liam whispers, his outline quivering with rage. “The moment this guy comes within sight, you toss me aside again? You’re already this unfaithful?”
“Mason, go,” Cameron orders, his fingers scraped and bleeding as he puts his hands beneath him. “You’ve been through enough—”
Liam plants a foot in Cameron’s side and thrusts, flattening him out on the street. The sight feels worse than a thousand daggers plunging into my chest. Hot tears lick my cheeks as I stand against the brick wall, paralyzed.
“Mason, leave,” Cameron snaps again, eyes locking with mine. His own are resolute, but there’s a ring of anxiety around his irises. “I can handle this prick. Go get your parents.”
Cameron is shaken. It’s not just because of Liam’s threatening presence. This sight, this feeling, is familiar to him. Being on the ground with people looking down on him…It’s a nightmare he can’t rid himself of.
Yet he’s willing to put himself through it. For me.
“Kids your age are so damn annoying,” Liam says, looming over Cameron. “Mason, I thought you were different. But you’re just like everyone else. Immature, bratty…needing a good lesson.”
He reels his foot forward, and Cameron grimaces, preparing for the kick. It doesn’t come. Liam falters, foot hanging mid-swing.
“Get away.” The words are so pathetic, so weak, yet I can still force them out. I’m shaking violently, but I can still hold my stance, shielding Cameron. The tears are thick and relentless, but I can still glare at him.
“Move,” Liam says sternly.
My body’s instinct is to obey. I remain still, knees quaking.
Liam stares at me with incredulous eyes, and suddenly, he’s throwing his head back and laughing angrily.
“Are you kidding?” he cries out. “You bitch and moan about how much I hurt you, and now you’re standing here with the boy you’re cheating on me with, basically begging me to smack the shit out of you. What am I supposed to do, genuinely?”
“Mason, stop.” Cameron’s finally on his feet, though he’s grasping at his side. He snags my shoulder and tries pulling me behind him, but my feet stay flat.
“No,” I say. His touch reinvigorates me, easing the tremble in my limbs. Somehow, I manage to meet Liam’s icy eyes. “I’m not your property.”
“Mason,” Cameron pleads, but I continue over him.
“You have hurt me.” My fingers curl into frustrated fists.
All the while, Liam stares with a mixture of emotions—heated disbelief being the most prominent.
“You tried to isolate me. You’d say I was special, then make me feel worthless.
You accused me of horrible things so you could own parts of me. My smile. My social life. My passion.”
The words are spilling out, despite knowing this isn’t the time or place for this. But I can’t help it. With Cameron’s comforting presence at my back, I can finally say it. For the first time, Liam is the one frozen solid, unable to move.
“You never had feelings for me when I was thirteen, did you?” I choke out, blinking through the thickness of tears. “You saw my homelife, my social struggles and quiet personality, and it was perfect. You knew all it would take was a little attention to win me over.”
Liam’s exhales are coming more forcefully. Though the streetlamps framing the parking lot are dim, I can see redness pouring into his face.
“You thought you had me in your pocket after proposing,” I breathe, my fingers fumbling for Cameron’s free palm.
His hand slides into mine, coarse and still damp with drying blood from his fall.
“You pushed and pushed because you thought you could get away with it. You liked that I was becoming scared of you.”
“That’s not true,” Liam spits, to which my nose flares with annoyance.
I shout, “Yes it is! If you loved me, truly loved me, why hurt me so much? Stopping me from going to homecomings, parties, bonfires…punishing me whenever I raised my voice, pointing out my flaws over and over…” I can’t figure out if I want to scream or dissolve into a sobbing breakdown or shove him or do all simultaneously.
“I was never a person to you. Just a trophy. A box to check.”
I step forward.
Liam steps back.
“I’m not your toy anymore!” I yell, tears dripping into my burgundy suit. “You don’t get to push me around. I don’t owe you anything just because you bought me gifts or did me favors. I’m allowed to have friends, feelings for other people. I…”
My breath hitches. Cameron’s thumb presses into the back of my palm. Encouragement.
“I deserve to be happy,” I say. “Especially without you.”
Liam’s jaw is set in a tight, firm line. I can almost see the force he’s applying to his teeth—it causes his face to tremble.
Then, suddenly, tears are grating down his cheeks.
“Really?” he whispers, clutching his head. He chokes on a forced, manic laugh that causes Cameron to shift closer to my back, as if preparing to yank me away. “You think that lowly of me? You, my best friend, my fiancé…”
His knees fold, and he strikes the ground, staring unblinkingly at the asphalt.
“All I’ve ever wanted is to love you,” he breathes.
My inhale hitches. His words poke into the cracked seals around my heart, allowing guilt to leak into my chest. I almost step forward to wrap my arms around him.
But he doesn’t deserve it.
“Come on,” Cameron mumbles, drawing me toward the banquet hall. I guess this is our chance to escape before Liam gets his second wind.
And yet…why does he look so miserable? Why is he crying? Is it another manipulation tactic? The way he spoke about “bettering himself” like it was a chore says everything about how little he wanted to treat me well.
So why?
“You don’t see it, do you?” I ask quietly. “You thought the only thing you needed to fix was how angry you got. That the only way you hurt me was physically, and if you could fix that and tack on enough apologies, it would solve us.”
Liam holds his head like his world is crumbling around him. Maybe it is. Maybe somewhere deep inside, part of him did care. He’s not some unnuanced cartoon villain laughing from the shadows as his plans unfold.
But when did this “love” spiral into obsession?
Is it fair for me to assume he wanted to manipulate me from the start?
Or did part of him genuinely find comfort in me, one of the only people who looked up to him and didn’t care about his wealth or popularity, while his parents expected him to shoulder every expectation without complaint?
They’ve always pulled his strings behind the curtain, crafting him into a respectable individual worthy of inheriting their wealth.
So many times, he told me he felt he had no control over his life, no direction aside from the path his parents pointed him toward.
Then was I the result of that?
In his hectic life throughout which a step out of line was met with reprimanding from his parents, isn’t it natural he wanted to latch on to something he could control?
Maybe he felt butterflies when I smiled, and this, combined with his desperation to have something to call his own, drove him to acquire me.
Maybe he didn’t even realize it.
I shouldn’t give him the benefit of the doubt, especially when there were so many intentional moments of manipulation.
The night he got me blackout drunk. The way he cried after he hit me, and then his tears would vanish after I apologized for overreacting.
The jealous accusations when I told him I was going to a school event, which were relentless until I canceled and stayed home, away from my peers.
Yet there were many soft, loving moments, too. When he’d bring me somewhere I was desperate to explore or fall asleep draped around me while we watched movies or call me every night to let me rant about my parents or to make sure I’d eaten.
It doesn’t matter. Nothing excuses what he did.
He opened wounds in my heart with his hands and shattered pieces of my soul with his words.
Whether each instance was accidental or intentional makes no difference.
The fact is that I shouldn’t be required to heal, over and over, or cover my chest to prevent the possibilities of further injuries.
I’m not sure I’ll ever stop shielding myself. I’ve allowed Cameron peeks, but I can’t say I’ll ever allow him to fully hold my heart like I allowed Liam. Time will tell if I can manage to find all the shards that crumbled away each time Liam struck my self-worth. My fervency for life. My face.
“It’s over, Liam,” I say, shoulders slumping under the weight of my own words. “Don’t come to my house, or text me, or go to my parents, or show up at my school. I won’t talk to you.”
Liam sits there on the ground like he’s been frozen in time. The tears rush down his face, but his expression is stoic, his hands still latched to his head. Even after everything, this is the best he can offer me.
The chance to leave.
So I do. I draw Cameron toward the banquet door and pull the handle in.
“I love you,” Liam whispers.
My stride pauses in the doorway. “Your love isn’t love,” I murmur. “Hopefully you’ll realize that before you charm someone else looking for an escape.”
I tug Cameron into the building and let the door close, cutting Liam away. Permanently.
Before promptly collapsing against the carpeted hallway, gasping for air.
Cameron doesn’t speak. Just kneels and scoops me into a hug, tucking my head beneath his chin. I’m not crying. I’m too exhausted and I’ve shed too many tears over Liam. My legs are so weak I can barely get them under me, but I manage to, with Cameron’s support.
“Let’s go home, okay?” he says.
I look at him through the blur of fatigue, then gently stroke some of the dried blood from his chin. I don’t care that my phone isn’t on me or that I haven’t spoken to my parents as he draws me to the front doors.
“That painting,” he says. “What do you think?”
He’s pointing at one of the gold-framed pictures he noticed me slowing down for when we first entered the building. “It’s pretty,” I mumble, examining the flecks of gold atop splotches of black. “Not a big fan of abstract, but the colors work together nicely.”
“Eh.” Cameron shrugs, ushering me past it. “Your stuff is better.”
My eyes sear hotter. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“It’s the truth.”
“Not just for that.”
Cameron’s brows shift up, as does the edge of his mouth. He taps the back of my hand with his index finger, then guides me away from this mess.
Just like that, it’s over.