Chapter 8 The Age Gap #2
Mason hated how much he appreciated that.
Most people interrupted.
Most people rushed toward solutions.
Liam simply listened.
"You know what the worst part is?"
The question escaped unexpectedly.
Liam didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Mason stared toward the repaired section of wall nearby.
"The worst part isn't that it ended."
His voice sounded rougher than usual.
"It's knowing I helped ruin it."
The admission lingered.
Painful.
Honest.
Real.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Liam shook his head.
"You don't know that."
Mason laughed quietly.
"I do."
The younger man opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Because some arguments weren't easy.
Especially when the person making them genuinely believed they deserved blame.
Mason continued before Liam could try.
"I spent years getting things wrong."
The words came easier now.
Once they started.
"I ignored problems."
A pause.
"Worked too much."
Another.
"Stopped talking about things that mattered."
The familiar memories returned.
The kitchen table.
The final conversation.
Sarah's exhausted face.
The words she'd left him with.
"You fix everything except yourself."
The sentence echoed through his head exactly as it always did.
Mason looked down.
"Some days I still hear that."
The confession surprised even him.
He rarely admitted it aloud.
Liam's expression softened immediately.
Dangerously so.
Because sympathy from Liam felt different.
It mattered.
Far more than it should have.
"You aren't him."
The words arrived quietly.
Mason looked up.
"What?"
"You aren't the same person anymore."
The younger man's voice remained calm.
Steady.
Certain.
The certainty unsettled him.
Because Liam believed it.
Without hesitation.
Without doubt.
Mason wished he shared that confidence.
"You don't know that."
Liam stared.
The disappointment appeared immediately.
Not dramatic.
Not obvious.
Just there.
A small crack in his expression.
One Mason hated seeing.
"You're doing it again."
The accusation caught him off guard.
"What?"
"Talking about yourself like you're permanently broken."
The words landed harder than expected.
Mason looked away.
Because part of him knew Liam wasn't entirely wrong.
That didn't make hearing it any easier.
The silence stretched.
Then Liam sighed.
A familiar sound.
One Mason had heard countless times over the past several weeks.
Usually when discussing tuition.
Or exams.
Or stress.
Today it sounded different.
Tired.
Frustrated.
"What are you really afraid of?"
The question arrived softly.
Yet it hit like a punch.
Because suddenly everything became much simpler.
Not easier.
Simpler.
Mason knew exactly what he was afraid of.
Liam.
Losing him.
Hurting him.
Repeating old mistakes.
All of it.
The realization settled heavily inside his chest.
For a moment, he considered lying.
A harmless lie.
Something vague.
Something safe.
Instead, honesty won.
Again.
"I'm afraid of hurting you."
The younger man's eyes widened slightly.
Mason continued before courage disappeared.
"I know how this looks."
He gestured vaguely between them.
"The age difference."
Another pause.
"The fact that you're still figuring out your life."
His voice lowered.
"You're talking about graduate school."
The words felt important.
Because they were.
"You've got opportunities."
Dreams.
Possibilities.
A future still unfolding.
Mason understood that.
Understood it far too well.
"I don't want to be the reason you limit yourself."
Silence followed.
Deep.
Heavy.
Necessary.
For a moment, Liam simply stared at him.
The younger man's expression remained impossible to read.
Then something shifted.
Not anger.
Not frustration.
Something quieter.
Sadness.
The realization hurt.
Far more than expected.
Because suddenly Mason understood what Liam was hearing.
Not concern.
Rejection.
The thought twisted painfully inside him.
"Liam—"
The younger man looked away first.
The movement felt small.
Yet somehow devastating.
"I didn't ask you to make decisions for me."
The words remained calm.
Careful.
Which made them worse.
Mason opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because Liam was right.
The younger man wasn't asking to be protected from his own choices.
He was asking for honesty.
For trust.
For a chance.
And Mason wasn't sure he'd given him any of those things.
The silence returned.
Neither seemed capable of filling it.
Outside, sunlight filtered through the windows.
The repaired house stood stronger than it had weeks ago.
Inside, things felt far less stable.
Eventually Liam nodded once.
As though reaching some private conclusion.
"Okay."
The word landed heavily.
Too heavily.
Mason immediately hated it.
Because it sounded like acceptance.
Not understanding.
The difference mattered.
A lot.
For several seconds neither moved.
Then Liam picked up a notebook from the nearby table.
The action seemed normal.
Ordinary.
Yet it felt like watching someone step farther away.
And that realization hurt.
More than it should have.
Far more than a customer should matter.
Far more than a temporary connection should matter.
As Liam turned slightly toward the dining room, disappointment lingering quietly across his face, Mason felt something sharp settle beneath his ribs.
The age difference.
The divorce.
The history.
Every reason he'd spent days convincing himself to keep his distance suddenly seemed far less convincing.
Because seeing Liam disappointed hurt far more than Mason expected.
And that frightened him more than anything he'd admitted out loud.
· ? ·