19. Chapter 19
Mason
I tried not to be a hateful person. Cameron and I had agreed on that during a late-night conversation: in this life, we only had so much energy, and wasting it on hate didn’t make sense. If someone pissed me off, I wouldn’t dwell. Simple.
But there were still a few things I hated.
One: Mommy bloggers who turned their kids into profit.
Two: waking up in bed alone.
And as my fingers grazed the cooling sheets, I realized Mattie was gone. My stomach knotted painfully as I propped myself on my elbows.
The room was dim, lit only by the stained-glass butterfly on my shelf. Royal blue and amber shards stretched across the walls, making the emptiness feel sharper. I pulled my knees to my chest and checked the time.
Just after six. Too early to bother Lucian.
Just early enough to bother Cameron. Not that I was sure I wanted Luci’s company anyway.
He’d been off lately—more fights with his baby mama, and after that night with him and Seb, I was certain he was using again.
I asked, and he swore he was sober, even offered to piss in a cup, then got angry when I didn’t believe him. I hadn’t had the energy to argue.
Curling up with Cam sounded a hell of a lot better than dealing with Lucian right now.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, carpet soft under my fuzzy, aloe-infused socks, and closed my eyes as a sharp, concrete-heavy nausea surged—one hand shot to my stomach, the other to my mouth.
Breathe. Slow. Through the nose.
With Rosie, the morning sickness had been relentless, striking anytime I dared to be even a little hungry. I’d let myself hope this time might be different. Apparently not.
I opened my texts with Cameron. Usually, our threads were me talking while he sent thumbs-up emojis and endless pictures of Rosie.
Lately, we’d been sneaking awful photos of Seb back and forth, too—blurry, unflattering, guaranteed to piss him off if he ever found out. I loved every one of them. Loved them.
I typed a half-assed request for a granola bar and water, then stopped. I wasn’t pregnant enough yet to ask for favors. Hell, for twenty-six weeks with Rosie, I’d been a prisoner in my father’s house. Meals rationed. Forced workouts. Nausea ignored. I could ignore this, too.
Through spite alone, I trudged upstairs to Cameron’s room.
He sat on the edge of his bed, tugging on socks. Normally, Seb was sprawled beside him, but the bed was empty. My gaze darted to Rosie’s crib—also empty.
“Where’s the baby?” My voice cracked sharper than intended.
Cam’s head snapped up, a lazy smile curling his lips.
“She wasn’t big on sleep last night. Seb took her, they’re probably in her room.” He shifted his legs toward me but didn’t stand. “Come here, Mama.”
The words hit me harder than I wanted to admit. Not because of the nickname—he called me Mama constantly, hoping Rosie would too. He said I’d risked everything to get her here, so it was only right.
No, it was the comfort in his tone that unraveled me.
I drifted to him and collapsed into his lap, looping an arm around his neck. His body was warm and solid, his clothes smelling like sunshine and fresh air.
“How you feeling?” he murmured, breath warming my ear.
I picked at my thumb for a moment before his fingers interrupted me, gently guiding my hands to the hem of his flannel instead.
Bile burned my throat. I swallowed hard.
“Mentally or physically?” My voice rasped raw.
“Both. You’ve been quiet. I know how you get.” His hand moved in slow circles between my shoulder blades.
Leaning against him, I let my eyes close. “Mentally? Better now that I’m with you.”
He snorted softly, jostling me, then kissed the top of my head.
“I’m glad. How ‘bout physically? Baby giving you trouble?” His free hand rested over my stomach.
I stiffened. His baby. Even if he didn’t make it, he’d treat it like it was. We both assumed Seb was the father—after all, Lucian and Cam both used condoms with me. Sebastian usually did, but he also believed in the pull-out-and-pray method. And to be fair, until now, I did too.
“I’m hungry,” I admitted. “And I feel like I’m going to vomit. It’s like my body’s punishing me for not eating soon enough.”
Cam’s thumb stroked slow arcs across my tank top.
“I was hopin’ you wouldn’t be as sick this time.”
“Me too.”
He kissed my temple, beard scratching my skin just enough to make me smile.
“Your body’s tellin’ you it needs more. Don’t fight it, Mason. Let me take care of you.”
My throat tightened. God, he always knew what to say.
“Hey,” he added softly, pressing firmer against my stomach. “Any idea how far along? I know the doctor won’t see you yet, but give me a ballpark.”
I hesitated. My OB said not before nine weeks. Since I’d just tested positive, they assumed four or five—but I wasn’t sure. My cycles had been a mess since Rosie. It’d been two months since the last one.
“Between five and eight weeks? Maybe more?” My voice squeaked. “What do you think?”
He studied me, cautious. “If I say somethin’, you gonna be mad?”
“No,” I lied.
“You’re gettin’ a bit of a belly. I’d say more.”
I slapped his hand away and stood, ignoring the churn in my stomach.
“I am not.”
“Go look in the mirror.” He nodded toward the antique glass in the corner.
I wanted to ignore him. But if he was right, I’d need to change before anyone noticed.
The mirror bore our palm prints—mine small, Seb’s larger. Cam liked making us look at ourselves while he praised us, stripping away the self-hate. Normally, it drove me wild. Now, it filled me with dread.
From the front, I looked fine—just tired, hair messy.
“Turn sideways, Sweetpea,” Cam coached, stepping up behind me.
His hands settled reverently on my shoulders, then slid down to hold my shirt close. His chest pressed warm against my back.
And I saw it. Not a bump, not yet. Just the faintest firm curve. Enough to make my shirt cling and dip at my belly button. My lip quivered.
Cam beamed. “See? Told ya. Since it’s your second, you’re gonna show earlier. I’ve been reading up on it.”
I forced a nod, throat burning.
“I think it’s cute as heck. Can’t wait to tell—”
“I need a shirt,” I blurted. “I don’t want anyone asking yet.”
His smile vanished. He stepped back, clearing his throat. The loss of his touch ached.
“Cam—”
“No, it’s fine.” His eyes dropped to the floor. “You don’t owe anyone anything you’re not ready for.”
God, he thought I was shutting him out.
“I just—Mae, I know you’re twisted up about this. It wasn’t planned. But I’m excited. I won’t pretend I’m not. Please don’t be upset about that.”
His words hit like a punch. Because he was right. He was always right.
My hands fisted in his flannel.
“Cam,” I whispered, trembling.
I didn’t realize I was crying until he brushed my tears away and pressed his forehead to mine. He was shaking too.
“I’m not mad you’re excited. I won’t ask you to hide it. I’m just… scared. Embarrassed.”
“I know, Sweetpea.” His breath ghosted my lips, his hand firm on my stomach. “You’re allowed to feel that way. Just know—I’m in your corner. Always. I’m excited for you and Seb and the baby, but you come first. Always.”
“I love you,” I whimpered.
He pulled me close, wrapping me tight. “I love you, too, Mason. More than you’ll ever know.”
I buried my face in his chest, letting his heartbeat ground me as I cried into his flannel. With Cameron, crying never felt ugly. Just human. And he made me feel like I was human, after years of being forced to believe less.
When I finally calmed down, he handed me a white shirt from his drawer. It hung loose on me, hiding everything.
“Better?” he asked.
I nodded. His smile returned.
“Now, what do you want for breakfast? You can’t go too long without eating. I don’t want’cha gettin’ sick.”
Last night, I’d told Mattie I couldn’t stop thinking about breakfast carbs—grits, biscuits, potatoes, all of it.
“I don’t know,” I mumbled, voice rough. “Everything.”
Cameron suppressed a laugh. “Everything?”
I nodded. “It feels like I haven’t eaten in weeks.”
“You ate a whole medium veggie lover's pizza last night.”
“Don’t remind me,” I pleaded, though it sounded more like a whine.
He leaned a little closer before patting my stomach, “I’m startin’ to wonder if there’s two in there.”
My head snapped up as I gasped.
“Don’t you dare say that,” I hissed.
He chuckled. “I’m just pickin’ on you, it’s nice to see you’re getting some energy back. You’ve been kinda dead to the world these last few weeks.”
I didn’t argue, mostly because I couldn’t. And, I was sure in a few hours, I’d go back to being dead to the world.
“Here, you go lay down. I’ll cut you up an apple and bring you breakfast in bed.” He started guiding me to the bed.
But I didn’t want to lie down.
“No,” I grabbed his wrist before he could nudge me down.
“No?” Cameron arched a brow.
“I’m pregnant, not disabled.” I dropped his wrist. “Plus, I’m barely pregnant. I can help.”
Cameron parted his lips as if to argue, but the words died the second we heard the front door crash open. My spine snapped straight, and Cameron looked toward the sound as if he could see it through the walls.
We both froze, and Cam placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Did you hear that?” I whispered.
“Shhh.” Cameron placed a finger on my lips. “You sit and lock the door. I’m gonna check.”
“What, no–”
“Mason,” his deep drawl wrapped around the word, turning my name into a warning. “You stay put. I’ll check it out. If it's nothin’ I’ll text you, and you can come out.”
“And if it’s something?”
Another round of crashes came from the front, causing me to jump out of my skin.
“Then I’ll handle it. And if you come out before I say you can, I’m taking you over my knee.” Cam turned away from me as if to say that was final.
But it wasn’t final. No one ever came out this way, and we were the only ones awake right now. If there was someone dangerous in our house, I wasn’t leaving Cameron to die on his own.
Plus, he threatened me with a good time.