CHAPTER FIFTY
MASON
Saint walks to the dining table, and he picks up my plate.
While I take my medication, he cleans up the kitchen, and he heads upstairs to take a shower when he’s done.
I’m sitting in the living room, watching the city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
It brings me some shred of comfort knowing full well that everything related to Vincent and his hard-headed ambition for the Kings has come to an end.
Yet, I still can’t wrap my hand around the brutality that took control of me that night.
Footsteps echo behind me, and I look over my shoulder to see Saint entering the quiet space.
My lips lift into a soft smile as he circles the dark leather couch and settles down next to me.
I tuck myself into his arms, and he presses a kiss on the base of my skull.
He rests his hand on my body while we stay in the silence, and my heart feels less heavy than it was at the hospital.
While I’m firmly wrapped in his arms, he relaxes back on the couch, breathing evenly.
“Can you drive me to the docks now?”
“Yeah, let me fetch some clothes.” I sit upright, letting him regain his footing. He strides up the staircase and returns shortly after. He hands me a shirt, and we both dress up.
We head downstairs together, and he drives us out of the premises, leaving the city behind. As we navigate through the traffic, Saint turns on the stereo, and a song comes on, making the silence between us less palpable. “You know I used to play the guitar.”
“Really. I didn’t take you for someone who loves music.”
“Ouch.” I chuckle.
“Do you still know how to play?”
“I’m not sure.” He slows down and takes a turn onto a street lit by the streetlights.
“Um, wait, look…” I point at the flower shop ahead of us. “I need to get some flowers, please.”
“Sure.” Saint steps on the brakes, and the car comes to a slow halt.
He parks by the road, and we both exit at the same time.
I climb onto the sidewalk and look up at the neon sign lighting the entrance.
Through the transparent glass windows and walls, I see the young lady standing behind the counter and attending to a few customers in line.
“Are you coming in?” The bell chimes softly, pulling me out of my thoughts. Saint stands at the entrance, holding the door for me. I stride through, and he shuts the door behind us.
I take a breath of warm air around me, carrying the scent of roses and earth. It smells alive in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. Bucket of flowers crowds the room. Cream Peonies. Sunflowers. Daises. Roses.
A couple laughs as they hold each other on their way out of the flower shop.
My eyes flash with comfort as I see the two older men being affectionate with each other.
It’s the first thing I have felt since that night, and it gives me hope.
Saint stands beside me, observing the shop, waiting for me to make a choice.
I move around and peruse the several selections they have until I find the perfect bouquet of roses.
My hands close around them as I lift them from the flower stand and show them to Saint.
“I like this one.” I tell him.
“I like them too.” Saint smiles at me, then he takes my hand. As we walk toward the counter, I look up at him, heart clenching with worry at the tender gesture.
The young lady at the counter gives us a bright smile when it’s our turn to check out what we’ve got. “Are you a couple?”
“Yes.” The first time Saint says it, he sounds quite uncertain. “Yes.” He repeats firmly this time.
“Yes, we are together.” I tell her as she checks us out, and Saint pays for the flowers.
“Have a beautiful night.” She smiles as she hands me the bouquet, and we head out of the shop. The doorbell rings behind us as we appear on the sidewalk. “You said we are a couple.”
“We are, little devil. Are we not?” He faces me and smiles nervously. “I mean, I know I haven’t asked you, but I really want to be your boyfriend. Will you be my boyfriend?”
“I accept your proposal.” I grin and step forward, pressing a kiss on his cheek. He chuckles, and he walks to the car first and holds the door open for me.
“Thank you.” I tell him while I get in, and he shuts the door. He circles back in and puts the engine in ignition. He drives down the road and takes the next turn. As he focuses on driving us to the docks, I take out my phone and tap on the camera.
“What are you doing?” Saint takes his eyes off the road for a moment.
“Taking pictures. We’ve never taken pictures.” I tell him as the camera flashes several times. I stare at the moment in time I’ve captured, lips stretching into a smile. After a while, we arrive at the docks, and he parks the car along the road while we both get off and walk toward the shore.
The horizon disappears at the endless stretch of the sea. Waves crash against the shore with a steady, relentless rhythm. The wind whistles, slipping beneath my clothes and treading over my skin. I clench my arms around my body. “You’re cold?” Saint takes off his shirt.
“It’s just the breeze. I’m fine.” It feels as if the ocean could take all my grief. After all, I had been here with Saint, and it made me feel so much lighter.
“Don’t worry. I can manage.” He places the shirt around my shoulder to keep me warm.
The gesture punctures my chest with tenderness.
My eyes well with tears at how this ruthless man is taking care of me, putting me first. I still remember what he said earlier today.
The intensity in his voice. The devotion in his eyes.
He showed just how much he’s willing to put me first.
“I came out to my siblings today.”
My eyes snap up to him. “And? How did it go?” I ask, praying silently that the hope I held in my hands didn’t shatter into pieces with his response.
Growing up, I never thought my sexuality was a big deal.
I didn’t talk about it with my uncle, who was my guardian.
I didn’t feel uncomfortable even though he’d seen me kissing a guy months away from graduating from high school.
We never talked about it. Just like we never talked about every other thing that happened between us.
“They said really sweet things.” He fiddles with his hands before his gaze meets mine. I close the gap between us, putting my hands around his shoulder for an embrace.
“I’m so happy for you, and just so you know, I’ll always be your safe space, darling.” I promise and lay my head on his. He sniffles as a tear rolls down his cheek. As minutes pass, I let him go and stand by his side, and we both watch the sea crash onto the shore.
“On my ninth birthday, I asked my mama why she gave me the name Elio. She said it’s because I remind her of the rising sun.
” His hands slide around mine and hold me in a firm grip.
“She made me love my name even more. I don’t feel like the sun right now, but I want to reclaim my birth name because I believe I don’t have to be Mason Cole anymore.
I’m free, and I want to bear the name my parents gave me.
It’ll remind me of them and how much they loved me. ”
He lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss on it.
“I’d like to go by Elio Layton henceforth.”
Saint inhales sharply, eyes flickering with acceptance and affection.
“My Elio,” he smiles, and I flush. “My sun.” He’s so fucking perfect.
He’s exactly what I didn’t know I needed.
His words sink into my skin. A gentle touch.
A heart-centered comfort. It seeps deep into my bones and sets every part of me in an unquenchable flame.
A fire I have never felt with anyone else. Only him.
Bright and warm.
“My Saint,” I respond. “My moon.” I smile, and he brings his thumb up to my cheeks, caressing tenderly. “Can I kiss you?” He asks.
“Yeah.”
He kisses me gently, even though it’s short-lived, it’s everything. “I just want you to know that I’ll be here every day.”
I nod and fall into his embrace.
“Is there anything else you’d like to do?”
“Yes.” I take out a rose stalk from the bouquet, and we walk over to the shore until the waves crash against our feet.
“Mason Cole, I set you free,” I say, eyes locked on the water.
“Thank you for being strong for me. For persevering. For being brave and protecting me.” I pluck the petals from the rose stalk one after the other, scattering them into the sea.
Silence presses in from every direction.
My heart aches with the heaviness I’m trying to escape.
I shut my eyes and inhale sharply. Somewhere in my heart, a flicker of light sits quietly in my chest. For the first time in my life, I know I don’t have to look over my shoulder again.
The factor that has kept me in a cycle of fear my whole life is gone.
Saint steps closer and puts his hand on my shoulders and squeezes, “I’m proud of you. Of your bravery and strength. I’m proud that you never stopped fighting, even when the odds were stacked against you. That you were loyal to your survival.”
“Thank you, Saint.” I give him a firm nod.