Chapter 25
I wake slowly.
Not all at once.
Just fragments returning piece by piece.
Warmth.
Weight.
Soft morning light through the curtains.
For one confused second, I don't remember where I am.
Then everything rushes back.
The nightmare.
The panic.
Mason holding me down while I fought him, thinking he was—
My stomach twists hard.
I open my eyes fully.
The bed beside me is empty.
Panic flickers instantly before I can stop it.
Then I hear it.
Ava's soft babbling from the kitchen.
And Mason's voice answered her quietly.
Relief crashes through me so hard it almost hurts.
I push myself upright slowly, still heavy with exhaustion.
The apartment smells like coffee.
And something is cooking.
I walk toward the kitchen on shaky legs, oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder, hair probably a complete disaster.
Then I stop in the doorway.
Mason is standing at the stove barefoot in grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, one arm holding Ava against his chest while the other flips pancakes with ridiculous ease.
Ava is half-awake, chewing happily on the chain of his dog tags while he balances her effortlessly on his hip.
Like this is normal for him.
Like this is normal for us.
The sight hits me so hard my chest physically aches.
Mason glances over his shoulder.
The second he sees me, his expression softens immediately.
"Morning," he says quietly.
Ava spots me right after and lets out an excited little noise, tiny hands grabbing toward me.
And suddenly—
Suddenly, something inside me breaks completely.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Just all at once.
My eyes burn instantly.
My throat closes.
Mason's expression changes immediately.
He turns the stove off without hesitation.
"Hey," he says softly.
I shake my head quickly.
Which only makes tears spill harder.
God.
I hate crying.
I hate it.
But I can't stop.
Because no one has ever looked this gentle in my kitchen before.
No one has ever stayed after seeing the worst parts of me.
And after last night—
after fighting him, after him seeing exactly how broken my fear still is—
He's here making pancakes with my daughter on his chest, as none of it scared him away.
It hurts.
In the best and worst way.
"I'm sorry," I whisper automatically, wiping angrily at my face.
Mason's brows pull together immediately.
"For what?"
"I don't know," I choke out honestly.
That seems to affect him more than anything else.
His jaw tightens slightly before he crosses the kitchen toward me, Ava still tucked securely against him.
"You don't apologise every time you feel something," he says quietly.
The words crack something open wider.
A broken sound leaves my throat before I can stop it.
And then I'm crying properly.
Exhaustion.
Humiliation.
Relief.
All of it is pouring out too fast to contain anymore.
Mason carefully shifts Ava onto one arm and reaches for me with the other.
I go immediately.
No hesitation.
He pulls me against him gently, solid and warm and safe, while Ava squishes happily between us, completely unaware of the emotional devastation currently happening.
"I fought you," I whisper against his shirt.
"You were scared."
"I thought you were him."
At that, his arms tighten around me slightly.
Not possessive.
Protective.
"I know," he says quietly.
No anger.
No discomfort.
Just understanding.
Which somehow makes me cry harder.
"I'm embarrassed," I admit shakily.
"You shouldn't be."
"But you saw—"
"Yes," he says softly before I can spiral further. "And I stayed."
My chest caves inward painfully at the certainty in his voice.
Because he did.
He stayed.
I pull back just enough to look at him.
Really look at him.
At the exhaustion still sitting beneath his eyes from being awake half the night.
At the way he's holding Ava so naturally she's practically melted against his chest.
At the calm steadiness in his expression, even after everything I showed him last night.
"How are you real?" I whisper before thinking.
Something shifts in Mason's face instantly.
Softens.
Deepens.
His hand slides gently against the back of my neck.
"I was about to ask you the same thing," he murmurs.
God.
I let out a shaky laugh through tears.
Ava babbles loudly between us like she's offended that neither of us is paying full attention to her anymore.
Mason glances down immediately.
"There she is," he says softly, pressing a quick kiss against the top of her head.
The tenderness of it nearly destroys me again.
Because he loves her already.
I can see it.
Maybe he doesn't fully realise it yet.
But I do.
And the terrifying part is—
I think I love him, too.
The realisation lands silently.
Heavy.
Certain.
Unavoidable.
Mason looks back at me, still close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath against my skin.
"You should eat," he says quietly after a moment.
I laugh weakly.
"There's the bossiness again."
"Yeah," he replies easily. "And you're still ignoring basic human needs."
I roll my eyes despite everything.
But the warmth in my chest stays.
Because the apartment feels different now.
Not temporary.
Not fragile.
Like somehow, without either of us noticing exactly when—
This stopped being just survival.