CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
MASON
“You recovered really quickly. As long as you take your medications and follow the dietary instructions, you’ll be back on your feet before you know it.” The doctor says, looking up from his clipboard.
“Alright, sir.”
I’ve had to stay in the hospital for almost a week. I put on Saint’s leather jacket. He’d been at my bedside since I woke up, comforting me.
“Rapid recovery, Mason.” The doctor nods and leaves the ward. A soft grunt escapes my lips when I get to my feet. Behind me, Saint closes the distance between us protectively.
“Come here.” He says, sliding his arms around my waist and lifting me up. I put my arms around his shoulder and place my head on his chest. “Feel better?”
“Yeah.”
We haven’t talked about what happened at the house. We’ve only lain together in silence. And the silence was peaceful. Because I’m not ready to face what I’d done. I wish I could completely erase the dirty and uncomfortable feeling lodged in my every nerve in my body.
“Are we forgetting something?” Saint asks and looks around.
“No. I don’t think so.” He nods and walks out of the ward. Outside, Bernard sits on the green hospital bench against the gray walls. He springs to his feet, hands in pockets, as he leads the way to the elevator.
The entire drive home, my thoughts race with questions. Questions my mind can’t answer. He’s been here for me without question. He stayed close every single day. Even when he knows what I’ve done. Not just to my uncle, but to him as well.
The city around me feels bland. Too foreign. There isn’t any pressure to stay true to Vincent’s instructions, or the terror of losing my life at any moment.
We arrive at the penthouse after a long drive through heavy traffic. I’m so relieved he didn’t take me back to that house. I couldn’t bear the idea of reminiscing about what had happened, or worse, spotting a drop of blood on the ground or a fragment of bullet lodged in the wall.
“Mason, we’re home.” Saint’s voice pulls me out of the chaos. I lean off the leather seat just as he gets out of the car and circles the back to my side, unlocking the door for me. He leans forward and fastens his arms around my waist and lifts me up, striding toward the elevator.
The door claddings open into Saint’s apartment, and we enter the expansive living area. For a moment, it’s just us standing in the space until Saint’s siblings appear from the kitchen to the living room.
“You guys are home. Perfect. Lunch’s almost ready.” Olivia says. I remember her from Saint’s thirty-ninth birthday party.
“Is Virgil here yet?” Saint asks.
“No.”
“We’ll be upstairs.” He says shortly after we take the stairs to the bedroom. He sets me down against the sheets and tucks me into the bed. “Is there anything else you’d like?”
“I want to go to the bathroom.” I look up at him and bite down on my bottom lip. “Alone.” His worried expression drops, and he smiles at me even though it doesn’t reach his eyes. I get out of bed and walk toward the bathroom, leaving him behind.
As I step into the empty, quiet space, I take off my shirt and stare at my naked chest. Hands shaking, exasperated breath spilling out of my lungs, I move to the marble vanity and grip it, looking up at my reflection.
A low, broken grunt drags out of me. I can’t even bear to look at myself. Not after what I’d done.
Two scars.
I have two scars from him. One from a knife wound. The other from a bullet.
The memories storm in beyond my control. My reflection fades away. The room tilts around me. Recessed amber lights shine above my head. When I look in the mirror again, it’s not my reflection I see, but him.
Grotesque face. Broken skull. Eyes void of life.
“Monster.” His voice comes out like a whistle. Sickening. Even in death, he still haunts me. He took my parents, took my childhood, took everything from me, and the one time I tried to protect myself, he used that against me.
I thought maybe fighting back would get rid of the anger I feel.
But it still sits fresh and heavy in my chest. It lingers.
Slithers like a venomous snake. Tears stream down my cheeks, and my hands tighten around the marble vanity.
I let out a shaky grunt, eyes snapping back to the mirror. He’s still there, right behind me.
My fist collides with the glass. Red splatters on the cracked frame, and his image disappears. The door swings open, and I snap my head toward the entrance. Saint storms in and skids to a halt when he sees the blood on my fist. “I said I wanted to be alone.” I yell at him.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s quite frankly annoying that you’re everywhere.” My body vibrates with frustration. “I mean, what is it about me that makes you want to stay? Can you not see what I see when I look at myself?” I point to the mirror.
He stays still. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move.
“Are you not going to say anything?!” The pressure building behind my eyes finally explodes.
Hot tears trail down my cheeks. I move toward him and shove him in his chest. “I killed a man!” My voice trembles with equal parts fear and regret.
A chill rushes down my spine. “I’m a monster. I’m just like him.”
“If you’re a monster, then you’re my monster.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” I shake my head and turn away from him.
“If you’re worried about the crime scene, I called a cleaner. Besides, you were defending yourself.”
“But I killed him.”
“He would have killed you.”
“That doesn’t—”
“You protected yourself, you did what anybody would have done to stay alive. Are you not relieved that he’ll never get to hurt you again?”
Relieved? I was. I felt it everywhere in my body, even in my soul.
But I still felt anger and disgust, and pain.
“You know what I see when I look at you. The man I fell for the moment I laid my eyes on him. The man who saw me break apart and didn’t shame me for it.
The man who made me see beyond my blindness and made me accept the truth I’ve been running from my whole life.
You’re beautiful, Elio.” He steps closer.
“I’m grateful that you killed him. I’m grateful that you survived.
That you’re standing here with me, and I can look at you and feel the things I feel.
Because I don’t want to imagine what it’s like to hold you and watch you slip away from my arms again.
” His voice is firm and certain. “If it makes me a bad man that I see every part of you, that I’m happy that you got rid of him, then so fucking be it,” he finally closes the gap between us.
“If he could have survived, I’d make sure he did, and I’d fucking torture him and break his skin bit by bit for everything he’s done to you until all that’s left are his bones.
” There’s an edge of possessiveness and rage in his voice.
Not directed at me, but everything that had happened.
My face twists with pain. I don’t know what to say or do. I stand there and watch the intense devotion in the eyes of the man in front of me.
“This world doesn’t play fair, little devil, and neither should you. And no matter what side of the line you’re standing on, you’ll always have my heart.” He takes my hand and places it on his shirt, not slightly concerned about the blood he’d get on his clothes.
He pulls me closer and presses a kiss on my forehead. God, he’s choosing every part of me. The anger and resentment. The roses and sunshine. All of it.
“Please don’t treat me like I’m broken. I promise I’m not.”
“In my eyes, you’re complete, and the rest of the world doesn’t fucking matter.” He leans on my forehead. “Only you and I.”
“I want to cut my hair…” I whisper, staring at nothing. Saint waits, almost as if he knows I want to speak up again. “I don’t want to go by Mason anymore. And I want you to take me to the docks.”
“I’ll do anything you want, baby.” He lifts me onto the vanity. “Let’s start by patching you up.”
I give him a small smile.
I sit still and watch as he moves around the bathroom.
He finds the first aid, and he cleans up my hand, then he wraps it in a bandage.
When he finishes, he puts the refuse into the wastebasket.
He pulls out a clipper from the lower cabinet and turns it on.
The hum fills the air. Sharp and low. Somewhat soothing.
Thick black coils of hair falls to the marble vanity one by one.
Saint shaves down to the scalp precisely until the cut is even and clean.
My heart swells with warmth at the way he handles me.
The way he looks at me. With care and consideration.
Like that fleeting moment when we met the first time.
He turns off the clippers and sets them down beside me.
“We can go to the docks after you’ve gotten some rest.” He presses a kiss to my forehead.
“Okay.” I smile and lock eyes with him.
He pulls off his suit jacket and lays it next to me. Then he folds his long sleeves to his elbows and steps into the glass enclosure. He turns on the water, testing the heat. “Come on, let’s get you in the shower.”
He takes me into the glass shower enclosure and holds me over the lukewarm water.
Slow rivulets roll down my skin, unfurling the tension in my muscles.
I exhale sharply, face down, shoulders shaking as water patters against the marble floor.
Saint lathers the sponge with soap and washes my body from head to toe, then the streaming shower rinses the soap suds down the drain.
I walk out and take a towel from the drawer, wrapping it around my lithe frame.
We leave the bathroom together and stop at the dressing room, picking up a pair of pants.
His clothes weren’t my size, but they would do for now.
“Put this on.” He says, and I take off the towel and hand it to him, then I slip my legs into the oversized sweatpants, wincing from the pain of my wound.
His scent lingers on the fabric and shrouds me. It’s grounding. Calming. Just as I’ve always remembered. Yet I still feel shame and regret. “Does your hand still hurt?”
“Only a little.” I whisper.
“Hmm,” he grunts. “Let’s get you to bed.”
He takes me out of the dressing room to the bedroom and lays me on the sheets. “If there’s anything you need, I’ll be downstairs.”
“Aren’t you going to give me a kiss?” I ask quietly while I straighten up from the bed.
“I’m sorry.” He leans back and presses his lips against mine, taking his time with me.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Anything for you, baby.” He chuckles as he leaves me in the silence.
SAINT
My shoulders fall with ease as I take the stairs to the living room.
I take off my jacket and drop it on the arm of the couch, striding across the floor to meet my brothers and sister already sitting at the table.
Olivia looks behind me, then glances up at me with a lifted brow. “Isn’t he coming to eat?”
“He’s asleep. I can feed him later.” I say and settle into the chair.
“Father wants to see you.” Virgil says. He lifts a spoonful of the steaming brown rice and brings it to his mouth.
“I’ll see father when I want to see him. I’m busy.” I clear my throat and plate my food.
I called my siblings for lunch. I wanted them to know the truth about me. But I also want us to feel like a family again. Not just when father wants a soldier and a king to control.
Around me, my siblings eat silently. No words exchanged.
“Everything okay?” Cross, who’s opposite me, asks.
“Yeah. I just wanted to say a few words as a family.” I set my spoon aside.
“I know we rarely come together like this. We are not all fans of our father.” I exhale sharply and look at them.
Olivia and Cross both listen to me, whereas Virgil munches on his food and sips from the glass of juice.
“And he wouldn’t even listen to the words I’m about to say, but here it goes.
” A hot breath escapes me. I never thought speaking about myself in such a vulnerable way would be this difficult.
“All my life, like all of you, I have given parts of myself to the family, and I always will. But I want you guys to know. There’s this part of me I’ve always hidden from everyone.
Because my father made me believe that being that way makes me a weak man, and I have just realized that’s not true.
It took me a long time to see it, but I’m so glad that I did.
” I explain. “I’m gay. I have for a really long time, and I tried to change it, but I couldn’t.
I just wanted you guys to know this about me because we are family, and I’d love us to always remain family no matter what.
” I finally glance at my siblings, pushing through the heavy discomfort squeezing my shoulders.
But the way they look at me isn’t different from the way they’ve always looked at me.
“If it helps, I think I might be bisexual too,” Cross announces with a grin. “But this doesn’t change how I see you. You’ll always be my big brother, and I really appreciate that.” He stretches his hand across the table and caresses the back of my palm.
Olivia pushes to her feet and circles over to me. She leans forward and pulls me into an embrace, pressing a kiss on my cheek. “You are always safe with me. You’ll always be.” She promises.
“Thank you.” A tear rolls down my cheek, and she swipes it off with the back of her palm.
Virgil’s loud sigh gets my attention. “Who you sleep with doesn’t change how I see you, brother.
” Virgil lays his hand on my shoulder, his eyes brimming with honesty.
I chuckle and glance at them all. This is my family.
Father might have done a terrible job raising us, but I won’t let him break us apart.
“And I would love to suggest more of this. Family dinner to catch up on all the stuff that’s going on in our lives.”
“I second that.” Virgil raises his hand with a grin.
“Me too.” Olivia and Cross say concomitantly, and we all laugh together. “Saturdays can work for all of us.”
“Totally.” Cross adds.
“I love you, guys.” I announce.
“We love you too.”
After we finish dinner, Cross and I clear the dishes while Virgil and Olivia prepare to leave the penthouse.
Mason joins us downstairs when he wakes up, and Cross serves him a full plate of food.
He devours the delicious meal in minutes, and then I get him a glass of water so he can take his medication.
“How are you feeling?” Cross asks after he wipes his hand with the kitchen towel.
“So much better. Thanks for getting me to the hospital.”
“I’d do anything for my brother.” Cross looks at me, then at him.
“Thank you.”
“Alright, we are leaving.” Olivia yells from the living room as they head toward the elevator.
“Bye,” I tell them. “Text me when y’all get home.”