Chapter 8
Sebastian
My self-worth took another hit as Sophia tossed a dry paper towel at me and asked if I knew how to clean myself.
Luckily, the second she disappeared upstairs, Mason offered to shower with me.
I agreed immediately. Too eager, honestly. Minutes later, the two of us stood beneath the scalding stream in the guest bathroom, steam rising thick around us. Recently, Mason had hired a plumber to install a second showerhead. Sophia insisted it was unnecessary, but in this moment, it felt perfect.
Leaning back against the jade tiles, I sighed as heat soaked into my bones. The glass walls fogged over, cocooning us in a private little cloud fortress. My eyes fluttered shut, and instinctively, I opened my arms.
Mason crashed into my chest like she hadn’t seen me in weeks, and I wrapped her up without hesitation. Her damp hair clung to my skin. I kissed the top of her head and let my chin rest there.
She fit against me so perfectly, it made my chest ache.
But no matter how good it felt having her in my arms, I couldn’t shake the hollow, gnawing thought echoing in my head:
I’m not good enough for her.
The words came from a different version of me, as if spoken by the whiny, insecure teenager who used to follow her around like a lost puppy. I hated myself for feeling that way, so I tried to push it down.
Then she looked up at me.
“Are you okay? You’re very quiet.”
I forced a smile—meant to be reassuring—but it probably looked more like a constipated grimace. Her multicolored eyes scanned my face like she could read the truth hidden behind my crumbling facade.
“I just…” I hesitated, then finally asked, “Do you think I’m lucky to have you?”
I couldn’t bring myself to be more specific than that. Asking if I was good enough to fuck felt crass. Too shallow for what I was actually feeling.
Because it wasn’t just that.
Mason, when she let herself shine, was warm, bright, kind, and devastatingly beautiful, inside and out. In the back of my mind, I felt sick over the fact that there had been a time when I wanted to crush that light. Drag her down to my level just so I wouldn’t feel alone.
Toxic love was the only kind I’d ever known before her, and it left its stain.
She never knew what I used to think. How little I used to think she was worth. And yet, here she was, letting me hold her.
I felt unworthy in a way that didn’t burn. It ached.
Mason snorted and pressed herself harder against me, like she wanted to fuse our skin together.
“I think I’m lucky to have you,” she said easily. “Why do you feel like that?”
My tongue swiped over my teeth as I searched for a version of the truth that didn’t sound like I couldn’t handle a little degradation.
But the truth was… I couldn’t.
Years of being bullied, the insecure god complex that came with being a prodigy, topped off with my groomer ex-boyfriend... all of these traumas had left me more emotionally raw than I wanted to admit.
Even though I’d come hard earlier, had a good time in the moment... that haze of arousal had cleared.
Mason didn’t rush me. She never did, in moments like this. She just stood there, pressed against my chest, her hands lightly resting on my hips like she was anchoring me in place.
I wished I could ask her to scrub this feeling out of me.
I wished I could be enough just by holding her.
But I wasn’t sure I ever would be.
“Did I do something?” She asked innocently, cracking my glass heart.
My lip quivered as I fought through a shaky exhale. Every part of me wanted to reassure her that she’d done nothing wrong. Mason was perfect, as always. She deserved someone who could shrug things off. Lucian and Cameron could.
Why couldn’t I?
“Not you.” My voice broke.
Mason tilted her head back, brows furrowing as she stared through me.
“Sophia?” Mason’s brows lifted, her eyes wide, like she couldn’t possibly fathom Sophia hurting anyone.
That was the problem. Sophia hadn’t meant to hurt me.
She wasn’t cruel, not in the deliberate, soul-crushing way I used to know. She’d spent a good portion of our childhoods teasing me. Bullying me, really, like most people did. Sophia knew how to be mean, but this was different.
This was just supposed to be kinky. I should’ve been able to shake it off instead of internalizing it. But I couldn’t.
I had enough pills in the medicine cabinet to stock a small pharmacy. They were supposed to dull the sharp edges of my brain, quiet the violent, obsessive thoughts and help me float through the day.
And mostly, they worked.
They dulled the chaos. Softened the storms.
But they couldn’t touch the self-doubt. They couldn’t give me back the confidence I had faked for so long.
“Do you think I’m lucky to have you?” I repeated, softer this time. I just needed her answer.
I knew I was lucky to have Mason. Just like I was lucky to have Cameron. And Rosie. And Jasper and Juniper. But some twisted part of me needed someone else to confirm the thing I feared most.
That I didn’t deserve any of them.
Mason’s eyes filled with resolve, warm and unwavering. She cupped my chin like I was precious.
“I think I’m lucky to have you,” she said, beaming. “You loved me when I was at my worst.”
“And you did the same for me.” My voice cracked as I lifted her wrist and kissed the faded scars that told stories her lips never would. “You’re the first person to love me unconditionally.”
My eyes burned. I blinked hard, trying to chase the tears back down my throat, but they wouldn’t go.
Mason guided me closer, and I followed instantly, like a dog on a leash. I would’ve followed her anywhere.
She kissed me with the same softness she always did but I never deserved it. Mason always loved me like I was a prince and not a problem.
And that broke me.
Because why the fuck hadn’t I been able to do that for her?
My composure shattered. I sobbed against her mouth.
I didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to.
But I couldn’t stop it.
Shame surged through me. I pulled away and ducked my head under the stream of hot water, letting it burn down my neck and over my face. I tried to pretend the tears weren’t real.
“I think you need to talk to Sophia,” she whispered.
Weak-kneed embarrassment washed over me.
“No, I’m okay,” I protested, but Mason wasn’t having it.
She shook her head, quiet determination marred her face. “Sex is supposed to feel safe—even degradation. And if it’s a hard line for you, you need to tell her.”
But it wasn’t a hard line. At least, I didn’t think it was.
“Princess, I’m fine.”
“If you don’t do it, I will.” Mason crossed her arms, a stubborn wiggle dancing across her shoulders.
“It just—I don’t know. It would’ve been nice if she stayed to make sure I was okay after.”
Was that really what I was struggling with?
Mason didn’t get rough with me, but Cam did. And when things weren’t vanilla, he always helped clean me up—mentally and physically.
Did it make me spoiled to want that?
“You need to tell her that,” Mason whispered.
And deep down, I knew she was right.
I just didn’t know how to bring it up.