Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The applause still echoes in my ears as the lights come up and students begin to file out. Professors shake my hand, their smiles wide, their words tumbling over each other— impressive work, polished presentation, promising research. I grin until my cheeks ache and nod until my neck stiffens.
By the time I pack up my laptop, I’m still buzzing with excitement. Maybe, despite how it ended, this summer was a blessing. Seeing the looks on the faces in the audience made all of it worthwhile.
I push open the doors into the cool night air, the energy of the crowd still pulsing through me—then stop dead.
Mason stands just beyond the glow of the campus lights, dressed in dark pants and a blue collared shirt, a bouquet of red roses clutched awkwardly in his hands.
His curls fall loosely to his shoulders like a golden waterfall.
His eyes lock on mine, wide and uncertain, but there’s no mistaking the raw emotion written all over his face.
My heart stumbles. For a second, all the noise from the lecture hall, all the praise, all the validation—it fades away. It’s just him. Him, and the raw ache of his rejection.
Mason steps toward me. “Congratulations, Hunter.”
He thrusts the bouquet of roses into my arms. I just stare at them, stunned. He’s really here—in Shelby Harbor, on campus—trying to swoon me like he didn’t already tear my heart to shreds.
My jaw tightens. “What are you doing here?”
His throat bobs. “I came to watch your presentation. You did great.”
“You drove over three hours just for that?” I ask dryly. “There was a livestream, you know.”
“I know.” He shifts on his feet. “But I wanted to see you.”
Anger boils inside me. I shove the bouquet back into his chest, hard enough to make him stumble. “Fuck you, Mason.”
I turn to leave, but his hands catch my shoulders, holding me in place. His grip is firm, grounding, and my body betrays me with an involuntary shiver. His hazel eyes lock onto mine, raw and desperate.
God, I hate how much I missed him and his stupidly beautiful face, his stupid lips, and his stupid freckles.
“I’m sorry, Hunter,” he says, voice wavering. “I was an asshole.”
“Was?” I bite back.
He grimaces. “I am an asshole.”
“You are. You ruined my goddamn summer. You used me and threw me away.”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t want to hurt you—”
“It’s fine.” My laugh is sharp and bitter. “It was just sex, wasn’t it? You got what you wanted—another notch on your bedpost. Now you can move on.”
His eyes soften. “It was never just sex, Hunt.”
“Right,” I scoff.
He lets out a shaky breath. “You have to know how much I care about you. You felt it too. I know you did.”
My voice rises, sharp against the quiet night. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to show up with flowers like I’m supposed to forget the way you tossed me aside.”
He reaches for my face, but I flinch back and slap his wrist away. A flash of anguish ripples in his eyes.
Good. I want him to hurt the way he hurt me.
“I’m going to re-enroll here next year,” he says quietly.
My brain stalls. “What?”
“I’m finishing my degree.”
My fists curl so tight my nails bite into my palms. “What about Maddie?”
“We came to an agreement with Stephen.” His throat works as he swallows. “After… after Mom’s gone, Maddie’s going to live with him. It’s what she wants.”
I study his face. “And you’re… okay with that?”
He bites his lip, eyes glimmering with something fragile. “I trust her judgment. I’m tired of carrying everything on my own, pretending I don’t need help. And for once in my life, I just want to choose myself.”
His hand lifts again, slow with caution. This time, I let his warm fingers brush my cheek.
“I want to choose us, Hunter.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I’m still mad at you.”
“I know.”
“You really hurt me, Mason.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” His voice cracks just slightly, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. “Please… let me make it up to you.”
My eyes flick to his lips before I can stop myself. I quickly look away, but he catches my chin gently, coaxing me to meet his gaze again.
“Hunter,” he murmurs, voice rough with something unsteady.
“You know how the lake looks calm on the surface, even when there’s a current underneath?
That’s how I’ve felt for years—keeping it together, pretending I’m fine, even when I was on the brink of drowning.
” He swallows hard. “And then you came along this summer and gave me something to swim toward. Something worth wanting again.”
His hand slips to the back of my neck, fingers threading gently through my hair. Pain pricks my throat, sharp and tight, as I fight the sting in my eyes.
“You’re my shore, baby,” he breathes. “My safety. My calm after every storm. You’re my goddamn everything.”
Before I can protest, his lips press against mine. I stiffen, every muscle coiled tight with the urge to push him away. I should shove him back. Tell him to go to hell. Remind him of what he did to me.
But his mouth moves against mine with a tenderness that splits me open. The kiss is slow, trembling, full of ache and apology—as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he breathes too hard. The fight drains out of me, leaving only heat and desperation.
My fingers fist in the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer. I let myself drown in the familiar ache of wanting him.
When we finally part, our foreheads stay pressed together, breath mingling.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers, his nose brushing mine.
“Me too,” I admit, my voice trembling. “I hated myself for missing you—but I did.”
Mason searches my face, his expression uncertain. “Do you still want me?”
I bite my lip, chewing the chapped skin between my teeth until I taste blood. “Yeah, Mason. I do.”
His smile spreads slowly, soft and disbelieving, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He threads his fingers gently through my hair, tucking my fringe behind my ears. When his gaze lowers, his breath hitches.
“You pierced your ears,” Mason says, eyeing the small gold studs decorating my lobes.
Tension creeps under my skin. “Oh, yeah. Derek convinced me. I’d been thinking about it for a while, and apparently I’m a sucker for body mods when I’m going through a breakup.” I let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “Not that we technically broke up, but… you know what I mean.”
“I like them. They suit you.”
The way he looks at me assures me that he means it. He makes me feel beautiful.
He presses a kiss to my temple. “By the way, would you mind unblocking my number?” he asks.
My head jerks up. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”
He shrugs. “It’s fine. I deserved it.”
I scoop the bouquet back into my arms and raise it to my nose, inhaling the sweet, heady scent. “I’ve never gotten flowers from a boy before,” I admit.
Mason glances at me, and something raw flickers across his face—not quite sympathy, but something close to it. A promise, maybe. “Baby,” he murmurs, brushing the back of my hand, “if you let me, I’ll bring you flowers every day.”
I can’t help it—I kiss him again. His lips dance with mine, slow and devotional, like it’s a form of worship. He tastes like cinnamon gum and desire.
“You look fucking incredible tonight, by the way,” he breathes against my mouth, his voice velvet and dangerous.
God. The effect he has on me is indescribable. It should honestly be studied. There has to be some kind of scientific explanation for this phenomenon.
His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me closer—only for a shrill beep to explode from his pocket.
“Sorry,” Mason mutters, untangling himself from me. He curses under his breath and glares at his phone. “I’m dropping.”
He once joked that type one diabetes was the biggest cockblock in history. He wasn’t wrong, but I still hate the way he apologizes for it.
I smack his arm lightly, earning a playful scowl that only makes him look unbearably cute. “Hey, what did I say about apologizing for your blood sugar?”
He ignores me, sinking onto a bench and digging through his medical supply bag. His frown deepens. “Shit.”
“What?” My chest tightens with panic.
“I ran out of Smarties,” he mutters.
“I got you.” I plop down next to him and unzip my backpack.
The tight sound in his throat makes me glance at him. He’s staring. Because right there, nestled beside my notebooks and botany identification guides, is a bag of Smarties.
“You… bought Smarties?” he asks, brow furrowed. His voice wavers, and for a second, I think he’s going to cry.
I shrug, heat crawling up my neck. “Um, yeah. Not a big deal. I got them months ago, when I was still in Claremont Shores… just in case you needed them.”
His eyes lock on mine like I’ve just knocked the wind out of him. He doesn’t say a word—just tears open a pack and crunches through the sugar tablets, loud and desperate, his gaze never leaving mine. And I can’t look away either.
“You okay?” I ask softly, running my palm over his thigh.
“Yes,” he says, but his voice comes out timid, scared. It doesn’t sound like him.
I brush a hand over his knee. “Come here. Let me hold you while we wait for your blood sugar to bounce back.”
I wrap my arm around him, pulling him in. He folds against me, heart hammering fast against my chest.
“You sure you’re alright?” I whisper. “I can feel your heart racing. Want me to grab another roll?”
He shakes his head, swallowing hard. “No. Smarties won’t fix this.”
My brows pinch. “Won’t fix what?”
He cups my face suddenly, his hands trembling but gentle, like he’s afraid I’ll break. His thumb skims my cheek, and my whole body goes still under his touch.
I can see the truth in his eyes before it leaves his lips.
“I love you, Hunter.”
My brain short-circuits. For a second, I can’t even breathe. Did he really just say that?
I blink at him, stunned silent, my own heart slamming painfully against my ribs.
His throat bobs. “Hunter, please… say something.”
The panic in his eyes snaps me back to reality. “I—” My voice cracks as the words tumble out. “I love you too.”
The air between us shifts. Mason lets out this shaky laugh, relief pouring out of him. It makes me laugh, too, and then we’re kissing again—messy, smiling against each other’s mouths. The taste of candy still lingers on his tongue.
When we finally break apart, breathless, he cups my cheek, his fingers still trembling. “So… does this mean you want to be my boyfriend?”
I grin, my chest overflowing. “Yes.”
He lets out a shaky exhale. “Thank God.”
I laugh, swiping at my damp eyes. “Holy shit. I definitely didn’t expect this tonight,” I admit, still breathless. “You’re unbelievable.”
“So are you,” he murmurs, brushing away my tears with his knuckles. “God, I can’t wait to date you.”
“Me too.”
He laces his fingers through mine, squeezing gently. “We’ll have to figure out the distance—at least until I re-enroll and move back next year.”
I brush my nose against his. “We can still see each other on weekends.”
He nods, though his expression wavers with apprehension. “And we’ll text and call all the time, right?”
“Of course.”
His shoulders ease as a soft smile curves his lips. In the quiet that follows, it feels as though something tender has taken root—bright, fragile, and ours.