32. Mason
THIRTY-TWO
MASON
When you know something, you just know.
She doesn’t have to say the words. I can piece things together well enough. It’s unexplainable, the feeling of wishing like hell you could erase someone’s pain, but knowing there’s nothing you can do. She cries in my arms, and I breathe in her hurt, hoping that somehow letting her relieve her burden and place it on my shoulders will help her find some peace.
But the shadows of monsters linger long after they’re gone. The best we can hope for is to pull ourselves from the darkness.
I didn’t intend for the date to end up this way, and then suddenly, boom. Just like that, some of the information I’ve been dying for since I first walked into Dina’s Diner fell into my lap. None of it explains why she ran away. If anything, it makes indecision flare even stronger in my gut, because more than ever, it’s clear that Chase isn’t the bad guy. He seems to be one of the best.
And it’s that realization which makes a small piece of me think about giving him the information he’s desperate for, jumping on my bike and getting the hell out of Dodge before my father even steps foot into Arizona—about giving Lily back to someone who will love her unconditionally, who won’t keep things from her that she deserves to know.
But as soon as the thought starts to grow, I rip it up at its root. I can’t do anything until I tell her everything.
I have to come clean.
Leaning in, I press another kiss to the top of her head, her sobs dying down, slight hiccups the only thing that remains. It’s ironic, how she was running toward the vision of the perfect family I was trying to escape.
“I’m s-sorry,” she stutters. “I ruined the date.”
I smile, my hand smoothing the flyaways of her hair. “Little bird, without you, there is no date.”
She sinks lower until she’s lying with her head in my lap, her gorgeous hazel eyes peering up at me with all the trust in the world, and I know that now is my moment. I could lay it all on the line and beg for her forgiveness. Wipe the slate clean and tell her that I swear to fucking God I’ll never abuse her trust again.
But selfishly, I want more time, even though I know I don’t deserve it.
I run my hand through her hair, peppering her face with kisses instead, and she giggles, the sound lighting up my chest like a strobe light.
“I didn’t think it would be this easy,” she sighs.
My brow quirks. “What would?”
She waves her hand between us. “ This. I mean…it’s not easy. Saying things out loud has never been my strong suit.” Her nose scrunches. “Not the words that really matter, anyway. But it feels nice to have someone who knows about my past.”
I continue smoothing her hair. “What made you leave?”
Her brows raise and my heart slams against my ribs, hoping I’m not wading into dangerous territory. But I need to know. Maybe if she tells me what I want to hear, the guilt will loosen its choke hold around my neck.
“What made me leave my family? Drugs.” She raises her arms, showing off her tattooed-covered scars. “What made me leave Tennessee entirely? A psychotic ex-boyfriend who I’m terrified will find out about his son.”
Her brows draw down, her fingers scratching in a staggered rhythm against her wrist and I…feel like a piece of shit at how relieved I feel that I finally have a reason to not give her up to her brother.
For her safety. For Chase.
Another tear seeps out of the corner of her eye, and my chest burns at the sight. I don’t have nice words to say or anything that can lessen the sting of her memories, so I stay quiet instead, hoping that holding her through it will be enough.
“Let’s talk about you now.” She gives me a sad smile. “What do your parents do?”
I smother my cringe, the craving for nicotine suddenly flowing through my veins, more potent now that the taste of tobacco is fresh on my tongue. “My mom runs charities.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, that’s…noble.”
A small grin makes its way onto my face. “Yeah, that’s why she does it.”
“Because she’s noble?”
“Because she wants people to think she is.”
Her lips turn down at the corners. “Oh.”
I run a hand through my hair. “My dad is a politician.”
There. I said it. Ripped it off like a Band-Aid. I don’t know how the hell to come clean about Mason, but I can start here. I can give her this, can give her the truth about Alex .
Her brows shoot to her hairline. “I did not expect you to say that.”
I chuckle. “I don’t know why you would. It’s not information I offer up in normal conversation.”
She sits upright, facing me, her legs brushing against mine as she settles into a new position, curiosity lining the edges of her eyes. “How come you don’t talk to them anymore?”
The sutures holding my heart together start to fray, but I push through the pain of the tear to give her what I can. “I didn’t want to be part of their fucked-up family anymore, so I left.”
Her head tilts to the side. “Just like that?” She snaps her fingers.
“Just like that.” Just like you did .
“I get that. I can see it.” Her head bobs.
“Can you?”
“Yeah, you don’t really look the part of a politician’s son.”
Her words are a poison arrow splitting my chest in half, the venom spreading through me until it unlocks all the whispers from my past.
Stand up straighter.
Work harder.
Be a man.
You’re an embarrassment to this family.
Get rid of it or marry her.
It’s the last one that haunts my every moment, the ghost who never leaves, reminding me that she’s right.
I’m no politician’s son.
I gave up that title on the night he killed my child.