Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
When I arrive home, I’m still riding the high of my post-orgasm bliss.
There’s a stupid grin plastered on my face as I kill the engine and sit in the quiet for a second, the truck ticking as it cools. My tongue lingers with the taste of Hunter’s release. My jaw still aches in a way that makes me smile harder.
I wasn’t expecting tonight to go like that. And I certainly wasn’t expecting to feel… whatever this is. Giddy? Hopeful?
There’s an extra bounce in my step as I approach the trailer. Maddie’s bedroom is dark through the sheer purple curtains in her window, so she must be asleep. When I walk inside, I close the door softly, careful not to wake her.
I kick off my sneakers and drop my jacket in the entryway. I head to my bedroom, keeping my footfalls light, trying not to let the floorboards croak beneath my weight. Then, of course, one of them groans loudly, and I wince.
“Mason? Is that you?”
My head spins toward the familiar, raspy sound of my mom’s voice, hoarse from decades of smoking cigarettes. I find her sitting at the dining table.
She’s like an indoor-outdoor cat who comes and goes as she pleases. I never know when she might vanish on a week-long bender before showing up again like nothing happened.
She looks… small. Not strung out or drunk. Just tired. Her hair is scraped back in a messy ponytail, and she’s wearing a T-shirt that reveals her bony arms. Her hands are wrapped around a chipped mug, and her gaze lifts to mine like she’s been waiting.
“Hey,” she says, her voice strangely gentle. “Can you sit down for a minute?”
My smile instantly fades.
I hesitate. “What’s going on? Where were you?”
She nods toward the chair across from her. “Please. Just sit.”
The seriousness of her tone makes my stomach twist. The room is quiet except for the quiet hum of the refrigerator. She stares down at her mug, twirling a spoon in her coffee.
Then I notice the plastic band wrapped around her wrist—a hospital bracelet.
“I haven’t been feeling well lately, Mason. I’ve been trying to ignore it, but then the other day, I… I found a lump in my breast,” she admits. “I didn’t want you or Maddie to worry before I talked to a doctor.”
The air leaves my lungs. I tense in the chair and grip my thighs, squeezing the fabric of my swim trunks.
“What’d the doctor say?” I ask, my voice surprisingly hoarse.
“Well, I had a mammogram, and they ran some tests,” she says, swallowing hard. “They confirmed it’s breast cancer. Stage four. It’s already spread.”
That dreaded word hangs between us in the air, quickly filling up the room like smoke. I faintly register the movement of my own hand reaching across the table, squeezing hers.
“So, what’s the next step? Chemo? Radiation?” I ask, mind racing.
She lets out a shaky breath. “No,” she says softly. “It’s… far too progressed. The doctors said I should just focus on being comfortable, for however long I have left.”
My throat feels tight. I try to speak, but nothing comes out.
The ecstatic golden feeling I carried home is gone, swept away in an instant. Now, I just feel hollow.
She frowns. “I know I haven’t been the mom you needed me to be. And I know I’ve screwed up a lot, but I didn’t want to hide this from you.”
Any resentment I feel toward her is irrelevant now. As angry as she makes me sometimes, she’s still my mom. The good memories with her far outweigh the bad ones.
“It’s okay, Mom.”
She glances toward Maddie’s bedroom. “Please don’t tell her yet,” she says. “Tomorrow is her last day of school before the summer, and she needs to focus on her finals. I’ll tell her afterwards.”
I feel myself nodding numbly.
“I know I don’t say it enough, but… I’m grateful for you,” she says gently. “For the way you’ve stepped up. I’m so glad Maddie has you. I love you.”
I can’t remember the last time I heard those words from her mouth. Maybe it was in the hospital after her attempt. It shakes me to my core, and I choke down the painful sting in my throat.
“I love you too.”
She releases my hand and sips her coffee. “You should go to bed. It’s late.”
I swallow hard, my throat like sandpaper. “Okay. Goodnight,” I mutter before numbly drifting to my bedroom.
I collapse onto my bed, lying in the dark, blinking hard against the sting in my eyes. I stare out the window and watch the big oak tree, leaves trembling in the breeze, its branches scraping against the glass like nails on a chalk board.
Just an hour ago, I felt weightless. Now, everything feels heavier.
Tomorrow, I’ll wake up and pretend everything’s fine. I’ll pack Maddie’s lunchbox and get her to school. I’ll go to work. If I’m feeling bold, maybe I’ll text Hunter.
I’ll slap a smile on my face and try to hide the fact that I’m barely holding it together.
***
On Maddie’s last day of middle school, she hops off the yellow bus with a huge grin plastered on her face. I’m waiting for her on the front porch, lounging in a folding chair, sipping on an ice-cold diet root beer—my favorite kind of pop. Nothing hits quite like a root beer on a hot summer day.
As she runs up the walkway, her pink backpack bouncing on her shoulders, I can’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over me.
I’ve been counting down to summer almost as much as she has.
No more early alarms or packed lunches, no more racing across town to soccer practice or choir concerts, no more late nights spent double-checking her math homework at the kitchen table.
I love showing up for her—I always will—but the truth is, it’s exhausting.
And now that Maddie’s done with school, I’ll have more time to focus on work… and Hunter.
Of course, I know it won’t last. Come fall, I’ll be back to early mornings and the daily chaos of raising a high schooler. But for now, for these few fleeting, golden months of summer, I can let myself breathe.
“I’m free!” Maddie shouts, twirling in her floral-printed sundress, a blur of excitement.
“Congrats, Maddie,” I say as she drops into the plastic chair beside me.
“Pretty sure I aced my finals,” she says, brushing a mess of dirty blonde hair out of her face.
“I’m sure you did,” I say truthfully.
She’s a smart kid—much smarter than I was at her age. Especially in math, which I always hated. I was more of a history-and-government guy, back when I had time to care about those things.
“To celebrate,” I say, reaching into my pocket, “I got you something.”
Her brow lifts as I hand her the envelope. She takes it slowly, as if she thinks this might be some kind of brotherly prank. She rips it open with her finger and unfolds the paper inside, scanning it quickly.
“Oh my God!” she shrieks, practically leaping to her feet. “You got me the Harmony Heartz concert ticket?!”
I nod, biting back a stupidly large grin. “Told you I would.”
“I know, but I didn’t think you actually could!” she squeals, throwing her arms around me. “This is, like, the biggest tour of the year!”
“Yeah, well, that’s just the email receipt,” I say, laughing. “I’ll transfer the ticket to your phone. Physical tickets aren’t really a thing anymore.”
“Thank you! Thank you!” she chants, squeezing me tightly. She’s surprisingly strong for a thirteen-year-old girl.
“Can’t… breathe…” I choke out, but she just laughs and lets me go before bouncing on her heels excitedly.
“I’m gonna go plan my outfit right now!” she shouts, already halfway to the door. “I need glitter! And face gems!”
Without another word, she disappears into the house so fast I can almost see a cartoonish cloud of dust trailing behind her. I chuckle to myself and sip my root beer, leaning back in my chair, letting the warm breeze roll over my face.
Over the past two years, I’ve had to tell her no to a lot of things. New phones, name-brand jeans, overpriced trendy lip glosses. I’ve lost sleep over bills, skipped meals to make sure she eats, dropped out of college, and worked shitty jobs just to keep the lights on.
But watching Maddie light up like that? That’s the kind of thing that makes it all worth it.
Pretty soon, she’ll find out about Mom’s cancer, and I’ll have to deal with the emotional fallout. She’ll cry. She’ll be angry. She’ll ask questions I won’t know how to answer.
But not right now. Right now, she’s smiling. She’s thirteen and daydreaming about a stupid boyband.
And for now, that’s enough.