There were some things you couldn’t learn by searching through someone’s life online. The nuances of interpersonal relationships didn’t translate into text. It sucked having to wait for him to tell me things I wanted to know.
“No. Not really. Though I feel like I should. They make me feel guilty enough about moving down here and leaving them.” He sounded bitter.
I put my hand over his. “Why don’t you want to see them?” I was eager to know everything about him.
Because I’m supposed to. He’s my mark,I reasoned.
Liar. Why was I even bothering to lie to myself anymore? I could be dishonest with everyone else but not with myself.
Mason furrowed his brows as if he had a headache. “After Dillon died, they sort of turned on me.”
“Turned on you?” I asked. He was holding my hand tightly, as if scared I’d run away.
I’m not going anywhere.
“That’s the only way to describe it. My mother has always been high maintenance, but she was a good mom. The den-mother-cheering-from-the-sidelines-at-your-basketball-game sort. But when Dillon died—”
“She changed,” I filled in.
Mason nodded. “Yeah. She changed. She became depressed. Angry. Everything was my fault. I wasn’t around enough. I should have been there for Dillon more than I was. That sort of thing. And my dad agreed with her. Mostly because he didn’t know how else to handle my mother but to go along with the cruel things she said. They were a unit against me.”
I got up and went around to the other side of the table and pulled a chair close to his. I wrapped my arm around his waist and laid my head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mason.” I meant it. I didn’t like seeing him sad. And he was definitely sad.
“When I got the chance to come to Richmond, I hate to admit that I jumped at the opportunity to get away. I needed the breathing room.” He looked so ashamed. It weighed on him.
“My mom was sort of the same after my dad and Charlotte’s accident,” I found myself telling him. I felt the need to give him some of my grief to share with his. To let him know he wasn’t alone.
“Really?” Mason rested his head on top of mine and we sat together so close, hardly aware that there was anyone else in the small coffee shop. We could have been the only ones there.
That was the danger of Mason Kohler.
Intimacy.
“Mom and I were never really close. I had a much better relationship with my dad. Charlotte and Mom were the pair. Then me and Dad.”
Mason kissed the top of my head. “Daddy’s girl, huh?”
I chuckled. “Something like that.” Thinking about my father brought the painful ache I was used to.
I realized those were the only feelings I was accustomed to anymore. The ones that hurt.
But with Mason it was different. I wanted to give him my history. My story. I knew it was safe with him.
And it was something real I felt I could give him.
“But Mom and I never really saw eye to eye after that. We didn’t agree on how to best take care of Charlotte. She dropped the lawsuit against the city for the accident. I didn’t want her to—” I cut off suddenly. I had given him too much.
Damn it.
“Anyway, I understand. And don’t feel guilty for protecting yourself when it comes to your parents. The ones we love the most are the ones with the greatest power to hurt us.”
Mason went very, very still. His jaw became tight and there was a strange look on his face.
“What is it?” I asked him.
His expression smoothed out and he gave me a smile, kissing me softly. “Nothing.” He kissed me again. Placating me. “You’re right, though. I shouldn’t feel guilty. But that’s easier said than done.”
He wasn’t telling me something. Something that bothered him.
