50. Mason #2
Lake Somerville is quiet this time of year—peaceful. The wind skims across the water, turning it almost metallic under the setting sun. We’re sitting on the edge of the dock, shoulders almost touching.
It’s truly so beautiful out here.
“Have you always loved the water?” she asks, looking over at me.
I glance at her. “Yeah. It’s one of the only places that I always know my brain will be quiet at.”
There’s this look in her eyes, almost like she’s sad for me. “I wish you could do what you dreamed of doing in life. Doesn’t seem fair that you have to throw away everything you want because of him.”
“Me too,” I admit. “Sometimes I just think that version of me belongs to a life I don’t get to have, and I have to accept that.”
She watches me. “You don’t have to become your father.”
It feels like I already am sometimes; that’s the scary part.
“I don’t really get a choice,” I tell her, looking back out at the water.
“You think…that you could ever still try to chase your dream even while taking over your dad’s company?”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Maybe when he’s dead, and I can set my brothers up to be comfortable in life. But by then, I’d probably be too old to change my entire life around like that. I’d probably have already let that dumb dream go by then.”
She places her hands on top of mine between us. “Your dreams will never be dumb. No matter how much time passes or how old you get.”
I pull my hand out from under hers and place it on top, running my thumb over her knuckles. I watch her as she goes still, trying to swallow down her cute nerves.
She’s stunning.
Wanting her feels like wanting a whole new life—one where I’m not such a fuck up, one where I know how to love and how to give someone like her what she deserves.
I know I love her. This feeling is too intoxicating and bone-deep to be anything else.
I also know that I don’t know how to show that love.
The only way I’ve ever been able to show it to her is through sex.
That’s when I feel stripped bare with her, the only time I feel good enough for her, and the only thing I don’t really fuck up when it comes to her.
This isn’t just lust, but lust might be the only thing fueling our fire right now.
You take that away, and what’s left? A kid with a permanently broken heart who will go the rest of his life craving an escape? A kid who became an alcoholic before he even reached the legal drinking age? It’s fucking sad what’s left after you take away the mask I keep on.
Being sober has only shown me I’m even angrier than I thought. There’s nothing keeping the rage down anymore. There’s nothing making me forget how much I hate my life. I’m left on this daily loop of pretending and then being so angry that I have to pretend in the first place.
When I’m around Simone…I can almost convince myself I’m better than I am. Maybe that’s why I allow myself to be so blind when it comes to her. If I don’t acknowledge the damage I could do…I might be able to convince myself this isn’t a bad idea—her and I.
My other hand reaches up and pulls her chin toward me. I hover my mouth over hers for just a second—feeling her breath on my lips—before moving closer to kiss her, needing the only fix I can give myself anymore.
Fuck.
I get it. I really do. I understand why meaningless hook-ups and sex are so addictive to some people. I understand how much the lust cloud can fog up all logic, turn off your brain, and give you the high you’re looking for.
I also feel bad for the people caught in that loop. Because this—the feeling that this thing with her gives me—it’s something I could drown in. It’s something I’m desperate not to lose. It’s definitely not something I could replicate with some stranger.
I pull back, drinking her in for a moment before standing and offering her my hand.
“Let’s go, pretty girl. It’s getting pretty dark out here.”
The engine purrs, filling the quiet around us. The lake is darker now; the last streaks of orange have melted into it, and the only light left is the faint glow from the dash in front of me.
I haven’t said anything since getting in the car, just taking in this rare moment of bliss for myself and enjoying my mind being calm for a change. I don’t get many moments like this, and I just want to hold on to it for a second longer.
Simone turns toward me slightly, curling one leg beneath her on the seat.
“You got quiet,” she says.
I study her for a second before answering.
“I was just thinking about how peaceful that was back there.”
“At the lake?”
I shake my head. “With you.”
Her mouth twitches up into a smile as she starts blushing—her smile is soft, and sweet, and full of appreciation for all the little moments we’ve gotten to share.
“You make everything feel quieter,” I admit. “Even when my head is loud.”
Her fingers trace the seam of the seat.
“You don’t have to carry things alone, Mason,” she tells me. “You know that, right? You’ve been doing so good…and I want to watch all the amazing things you end up doing as you keep healing. I wanna be able to stand beside you through it all, cheering you on.”
Geez.