Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
MASON
It wasn’t too long after Dakota fell asleep that I heard Micah leave his bedroom and go down the hall to the guest bathroom, then start the shower.
The fact that he wasn’t using his own shower only had two possible meanings.
Either he expected me to follow him in there so we could fuck, or something else. His vice.
Not one part of me believed him in the mood for sex, but I quietly climbed out of bed and walked through the dark hallway, past the closed door to his bedroom where Dakota was sleeping peacefully.
She had no clue that we were hooking up—even more frequently now—and I felt like shit about that.
But it wasn’t going anywhere. This was a relic of my past agony, a wound I refused to let heal, not something that would change the course of my future.
He was a drug, a needle in my vein.
Eventually I’d quit the habit. So would he.
And then I could be done with him for good.
Even with the door closed, I could smell that familiar scent mingling with the steam.
I silently pushed open the bathroom door, then shut it behind me. Micah looked over, but he didn’t say anything. His eyes slid shut, his head tipping back, water pouring over his body, tinted pink as it dripped off his elbows. He didn’t try and hide it from me, even as his muscles stiffened.
It was so starkly familiar it took my breath for an instant.
Without speaking, I took all my clothes off, then pulled the glass shower door open and stepped in with him.
“I don’t want you in here,” he said as he rinsed his hair, fingers twitching.
“You’re still doing it.” My gaze flicked to the matching vertical slashes on his forearms, blood trickling down with the water. The same ones I’d seen carved into his skin dozens of times over the years we were together.
It was his signature. Something he’d taught me, too.
Not necessarily because he hated himself, but because he needed a way to free himself from the shackles of his mind sometimes. He could take emotions from everyone else, but not from himself. Those had to be bled out.
“Did you think I’d stop because we broke up?” He tilted his head forward, silver-blue eyes piercing mine with icy anger. “I didn’t get this from you.”
“You have your life now.” The mist from the spray wet my skin, accumulating into droplets. “I thought it might’ve changed things for you.”
“This isn’t the life I wanted.”
I tried to hide the way his words knocked the air from my lungs. The way they fucking gutted me. Hearing him say it aloud made regret and self-hatred swell in my chest.
In a way, I’m the reason for that.
I’m the sole reason he left his entire life in Heaven.
“What life do you want?”
“Now? Her.” He jerked his head in the vague direction of his bedroom, jaw flexed. “That’s it.”
“And before?”
My question hung in the air unanswered, thickening the steam, making it harder to breathe.
I’d known Micah wouldn’t answer when I’d asked, though.
All I was doing was hurting us both by bringing it up.
Jamming my thumb into that old bruise. Pissing him off.
Reminding him exactly why he hated me now.
Still, that word haunted me.
Before.
Back when both of us were naive and hopeful, thinking we could somehow make this work for real. But neither of us would ever believe that bullshit lie again.
“She doesn’t know about this,” I surmised as I looked back at the cuts. Clean, right down the middle, spanning most of the length of his forearms.
He just looked at me.
They’ll be healed by tomorrow.
The reason both of us couldn’t ever stop to consider the implications of the ways we hurt each other—or ourselves. There was no physical evidence. Ever. The wounds disappeared long before the memories did. Broken bones, slit wrists. Bruises and blood and ichor. All of it—gone.
The lack of permanence almost made me desperate for it.
If I could’ve scarred Micah into my body instead of my mind, I would’ve done it.
“I don’t want to fuck,” he said.
“I didn’t think you did.” I dragged my eyes back to his face.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I could smell your blood,” I said as he turned around, giving me his back. Water poured down his skin, streaming over his scars. The only permanent mark either of us would ever have. “So I knew.”
“And if you knew what I was doing, why did you feel the need to come in?” The muscles in his back shifted under the water. “There’s no concern for my safety.”
“I don’t know.”
“Get the fuck out.” He turned to face me.
“No.”
Micah stepped forward, his hand flying up to slam into my throat. I pressed my lips together as he crushed my windpipe, fingers curling around the sides of my neck. The pit in my stomach grew heavier.
“We don’t do this,” he gritted out. “We fuck, and that’s it. You don’t come in here and ask me questions about my life now. You don’t come in here and look at me like you care about this shit. I don’t want you to care. I want you to leave me the fuck alone.”
I pried his hand off my neck, shoving him back under the spray, stepping forward so the water poured over my body with his.
Instability crackled along the underside of my skin like lightning.
“Well, I only came in here to see how shit you’re doing without me.
” My hand snatched his wrist, my thumbnail splitting the gash back open in the center of his forearm, fresh blood pooling in the divot created by my thumb.
He didn’t wince or pull away, but I knew it hurt him.
I felt fucking sick to my stomach. “And I got what I needed.”
“Go home,” he said as I flung the shower door open.
“Gladly.” I grabbed my clothes off the floor, uncaring that I was dripping water everywhere. Slamming the bathroom door behind myself, I yanked on my shorts then went into Micah’s bedroom, heart pounding, hands shaking.
Dakota sleepily lifted her head when I entered, barely able to see me in the dark.
“Come here,” I said lowly, pulling her out of his bed and scooping her in my arms, getting her t-shirt all wet.
But she was still half-asleep and didn’t resist me much as I carried her downstairs, then out to my freezing cold car.
I kept her on my lap in the driver’s seat as I started the engine and reversed out of his driveway, accelerating onto the road.
I didn’t mean to do that shit to him, didn’t mean to make him feel worse when he was clearly already going through something. But had he ever cared about making me feel better? Not putting me through worse?
Yes.
I ignored that voice in the back of my head, because it was a fucking lie.
Micah didn’t care about me. The only reason he helped keep me stable now was to hold it over my head.
To give himself more opportunities to torment me.
I didn’t need him the way I used to—or that’s what I told myself.
I didn’t want to need him like that. As good as it felt, I’d survived plenty of years without him.
Death chased me a whole lot closer without him, though.
Right on my heels instead of a hundred yards back. Snapping at me with teeth, swiping with claws.
But Dakota had kept me here, somehow.
With her perfect little brain, her special little soul.
Whatever it was about her that made her so grounding for me.
Was it possible that her mere presence was why I’d often been able to find other living Thrausians in this area?
Were they all surviving on whatever gift her life had offered the world?
She was waking up, becoming more aware of what was happening with each passing minute.
“What are you doing?” she asked nervously, her eyes darting around as she sat up, trying to climb off my lap. I held her down. “Where are we going?”
“We’re leaving. Going to my place.”
“Where’s Micah? What’s happening?” Dakota leaned over to see the clock on the screen.
“Micah’s still at his house. I’m just taking you with me.”
“No.” She shook her head a few times, still attempting to wriggle her way free of my grasp. “No. Take me back. What happened?”
“Nothing happened. I just want you to sleep with me in my bed.”
“Let me go back to my side of the car.” Dakota bumped the steering wheel with her hip and the car jerked to the side before I quickly corrected it.
“Stop moving,” I said, increasing our speed a bit. Her body tensed with the rumble of the engine getting louder.
“I’m not safe sitting on your lap,” she said through gritted teeth. “Let me go.”
“Dakota,” I warned under my breath, grip flexing on the steering wheel.
“Mason,” she snapped.
Something about her tone freaked me out, so I released her, letting her crawl across the center and sit herself in the passenger seat, legs tucked up to her chest. I didn’t want her to hate me.
Taking her out of Micah’s bed in the middle of the night had already put me on thin ice, and I needed to fucking cool off.
I could feel her staring at me in my peripheral vision.
“Is that better?” I asked, trying and failing to keep the irritation out of my voice.
“Yeah. It’s fine. I hate that you’re doing this, though.”
“Doing what? Trying to spend fucking time with you?”
“I was asleep! I’m exhausted! I don’t want to leave Micah’s house.” Her voice got quieter at the end of her sentence, wobbling a bit. I glanced over to see her quickly swiping tears from under her eyes.
Fuck.
I messed up.
“Why? Is his house better than mine?” I asked. I was driving too fast now, far enough above the speed limit that I’d certainly be pulled over if a cop was given the opportunity. But there weren’t any other cars on the road.
“Just stop, Mason.” Her tears were coming faster, her voice choked up when she spoke.
“Stop what? Stop trying to be with you? Stop trying to love you?”
“You can love me! And I love you! But you—”