I leaned back into the couch and closed my eyes. Yes, it felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
But it also felt like an equally heavy one was compressing me right now, the weight of wondering what the hell Rachel thought about all this. In one sense, I didn’t care, because I didn’t much care what other people thought about me. But in another sense? Oh, all too well, I cared about what she thought.
I wished it wasn’t that way, but then again, as soon as I hadthatthought, my mind started disagreeing with me. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that I felt the need to open up and be honest with Rachel.
At least she hadn’t let go of my hand.
At least she hadn’t pushed me out the door yet.
At least she was still here.
And I wasn’t going to wait another decade-plus to get this weight off of me.
“So with that all said…what do you think?”
Rachel
I’ll admit, it’s not every day that the guy you’ve been lusting after believes he bears some responsibility for the death of his parents.
But then again, much of my life was a giant exercise in “not every day that this happened.”
“We all make mistakes, Mason,” I said, “and I’m not saying that to diminish what happened. I’m sorry you went through it. But you’re not the early teenager anymore. You’re a grown man. You take charge of things.”
Mason looked like he didn’t want to forgive himself of that so easily. Unfortunately, I couldn’t make him do that, but I sure wanted to push him to do so.
“We can all play the blame game on ourselves for different things, but that’s not going to help us move forward. I’m not saying I blamed myself for what happened with the Bandits, but I can say the only thing that helped me move forward was letting go and working on myself. It’s easier said than done, of course. A lot of what’s happened recently has brought back a lot of ugly memories. But the work I did helped. And now I can move forward more easily than ever.”
Mason turned to look at me. I’d never seen his eyes look so yearning for attachment. He wasn’t going to cry—guys like him never did—but beneath the hardened exterior, I saw a man who wanted me here.
“You say it like I can move on myself,” he said. “I doubt that.”
I shook my head.
“If I can move on from what happened to me, I know you can. You just have to forgive yourself.”
Mason grimaced.
“It won’t be easy. But I’ll help you whenever I can.”
Mason nodded. He was no longer looking at me, but the squeeze he gave my hand told me everything I needed to know.
“Thanks, Rachel,” he said.
“No, thank you,” I said. “Because of you, I can live my life now. I can do what I want. I can be with you. I—”
The words had almost come out on their own; I certainly had not intended to say them aloud. But when I did, it made Mason turn back to me. And the look in his eyes this time wasn’t vulnerable; it was craving.
And though I had no mirror to see my eyes, I felt like it was right. It was time. I could finally have him. I could finallybe with him.
I scooted forward on the couch, one inch at a time, almost nervous that at any moment, I would have to pull back. But such a moment never came. In fact, every inch forward seemed to encourage me to keep on pressing forward.
I closed my eyes. In that briefest of moments before I knew what would come, I had a flickering fear that this would be too much.
And then it happened.
He kissed me, and it felt…right and without a screaming, running mind.
And that was when I knew I was ready. Not when I “thought” I was ready, not when I told myself I was ready, but when I had a clear mind, one unencumbered by the insanity of the world and everything going on in it.
