Chapter 36 – Mason
Chapter
Thirty-Six
MASON
Ican’t get the sound of his laugh out of my head. The image of him sitting on the sofa next to Mel, bouncing Luke on his knee is burned into my mind. King was so at ease with my whole family. Like he belongs here with them. With me.
All of this should make me happy, so why doesn’t it? Why does anger burn in my veins like my blood is made of fire? It makes no sense at all.
I unclench my fists and stare at the crescent-shaped grooves my clipped nails have left in the soft flesh of my palms. It’s a pity I took down my old punching bag. I sure could use it. The urge to punch a hole through the goddamn wall is fierce.
There’s a knock on my door, and my body responds the way it always does when he’s near, sizzling with energy. But this time it’s drowned out by my rage. “Mase, can I come in?” he asks.
Can’t exactly say no. This is his room tonight too. I’ll tell him I’m tired again. We can get some sleep, and maybe I won’t feel like this in the morning. “Yeah,” I grunt.
A few seconds later, he’s standing in front of me. “Everything okay?” he asks.
I refuse to look up at him. “Yeah. I’m just tired.”
He steps between my spread thighs. “You sure? Did I do something wrong?”
I look up and find him staring at me with concern. “You tell me, King.”
“I would if I knew, but I have no idea. Seems you’re pissed at me about something, baby.”
“Don’t call me baby,” I snarl, and I’m shocked at the vicious edge to my tone.
“Then tell me what’s wrong.”
I jump up and push him out of the way. I can’t stand him looming over me. Having him so damn close is only fueling my anger. “I don’t fucking know.”
He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah you do.”
I run my hands through my hair and shake my head.
He takes a few steps closer, invading my space once more. “You do, but I think maybe you’re too scared to say it.”
I snort. Is he fucking kidding me? “Don’t fucking psychoanalyze me, King. I’m not a case you can solve.”
His jaw tics and his shoulders tense. He looks like he wants to punch me in the mouth, and there’s every possibility that’s what I want too. Maybe that would make me feel better.
I take a step back, but he moves with me.
I keep going until my back hits the wall and I have nowhere to go, and he’s still there with me, his body inches from mine.
My hands curl into fists at my sides, my blood thundering through my body.
So much anger and hurt boil up inside me, a swirling vortex of emotion that I can’t hold in for much longer. And if he doesn’t get out of my way …
“Just say it. Tell me why you’re so pissed at me.” His voice is low. Commanding.
I glare at him, every muscle in my body vibrating with pent-up rage. “You fit in here so well.” I spit out the words. “You act like you care about them.”
His eyes narrow. He inches closer. “They’re all easy to get along with. And it’s not an act. They’re important to you, and they’re easy to care about. You’re easy to care about, Mase.”
And there it is. The root of all my rage.
“So why was it so fucking easy for you to stop caring?” I roar, pushing him hard in the chest. He staggers back a little before regaining his footing.
“Why did you tell me it was all a lie? Why did you fucking leave me?” Tears are streaming down my face, and I don’t bother wiping them away.
This house is full of my memories of him.
Memories I buried so deep because they hurt too much to recall.
Every important sexual first I had was with him, right here in this room.
And on one occasion in the den when nobody was home.
I refuse to make him feel better by pretending this doesn’t hurt.
Let him see what he did. Let him see the damage he caused.
“Mason.” He says my name like a plea, his green eyes dark with concern.
I push him again, harder this time, and although he staggers once more, he comes back to the same spot. “I’m sorry” is all he says.
But I can’t bear to listen to his apology.
I’m too overwhelmed by the pain, anger, and betrayal that I’ve kept buried for eighteen long years.
I glare at him, and all I see is eighteen-year-old King, arrogant and cruel.
His face twisted in a sneer as he told me how I disgusted him.
How everything was fake. Part of me wants to slam my fist into his face, but the other part of me is too exhausted to move.
“You fucking broke me.” I slide down the wall, my legs unable to hold me up any longer.
Resting my head on my knees, I do nothing but sob. And I don’t care that he sees or if he thinks I’m weak or pathetic. Too much of my life has been wasted craving his approval, and I’m done. I let it all go in a mess of tears.
I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting here, keeping my head buried so I don’t have to look at him. He probably left anyway. Can’t imagine he’d hang around to help clean up the mess that I’ve become. Thirty-five years old and sobbing on my bedroom floor like a kid. Even I know I’m pathetic.
But then I hear him moving, feel the heat of his body.
He wraps his legs awkwardly around my waist, wedging one leg between my back and the wall, and crushes me to his chest, cocooning me in those huge biceps.
My cheek rests against his chest, my tears soaking through his T-shirt.
He rests his lips on top of my head. “You been holding onto that for a while, huh?”
I don’t answer, and he doesn’t speak again.
He simply holds me until I stop crying and all the anger has bled out of me.
Instead of the cruel King who humiliated and betrayed me, he embodies the version of himself I first fell in love with all those years ago.
The one who always made me feel safe. Who made me feel loved.
I wriggle my head out of his hold and scrub at my wet cheeks. Gently, he moves my hands away and, cupping my face in his palms, wipes my tears away. “I know it’s not enough, but I am sorry.”
I swallow hard so I don’t start crying again. “I know. I don’t know where the fuck all of that came from.”
“I get it. You saw me here in the same place we spent so much time together, playing happy family with your dad and brothers, and it brought it all back. That’s understandable.”
“It wasn’t only that. It was …” I take a deep breath. “I saw you with them and saw what we could have had. We might not have made it, but we could have had something special.” Fuck me, I sound like I’m in a rom-com.
“We did have something special,” he says. “I fucked it up, but that doesn’t change what came before.” His eyes are pleading with me to believe him, but I’m not sure I can.
“I’m sorry if I fucked up a perfectly nice evening.”
He offers me a small smile. “You didn’t. I had fun, and your brother seemed to have a good birthday. But this all had to come out sooner or later. It’s not good to hold onto that kind of hurt.”
He’s right. I’ve spent my entire adult life convincing myself I was over him, not to mention what happened afterward, and that clearly wasn’t true. “I’ll take unresolved issues from adolescence for five hundred, Alex.”
His grin widens and makes me smile in response. “I’ll sit on this floor with you all night if I have to. But my ass is getting kinda numb and there’s a real comfy mattress right there.” He jerks his chin in the direction of the bed.
I groan as the pain in my spine makes itself known. “Yeah, the bed sounds way more appealing.”
We both stand, and for some reason I feel like that awkward teenager again.
Does he mean go to bed to sleep? I don’t want to sleep, but I’m not entirely sure I want to fuck right now.
King strips to his boxers and tosses his clothes on the floor.
I do the same, except I fold mine and place them on the back of a chair.
He’s already lying under the covers with his arms behind his head when I’m done.
His gaze rakes over my chest. “Come here.” The words lack his usual commanding tone.
I slide beneath the covers, and he rolls onto his side to face me. He reaches out and strokes my cheek. “I regret the way things ended between us, Mase, and I wish I could take back those awful things I said.”
“You were right—we were kids. I should have let it go a long time ago.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do that.
I was eighteen and knew exactly what I wanted, but I didn’t have the balls to fight for us.
Not like you did. I was a fucking coward.
” He closes his eyes and sighs. “But what I regret more is never coming back and putting it right. That I let you carry that with you for so long is my biggest regret.”
I cup his jaw and tilt his head up, leaving my hand there until he opens his eyes again. “Why didn’t you come back?”
He shrugs. “I followed you in the news. I’d see the pictures of you online. I remember the day you were announced as COO of Jamestech. The suit you wore looked fucking incredible on you, by the way.”
“Of course it did. It was Tom Ford.”
A small smile plays on his lips. “You always looked happy. Free. I told myself that you wouldn’t want me turning up here and ruining your perfect life. But I used that as an excuse. I was a fucking coward, and I couldn’t bear to look you in the eye after the awful things I said.”
And the awful things his father did. Does he know I came looking for him?
I don’t believe he does, and there’s no point in bringing it up now.
Everything is already so raw and vulnerable between us.
“My life has been pretty good. And I’m sure it does look perfect from the outside.
I’m incredibly privileged, and I know that. But yeah, it would have meant a lot.”
He nods, his jaw working. “You know, mostly, I …” His voice cracks. “I hoped that you’d know I couldn’t have meant any of it.”
Tears burn my eyes again.