Me: That’s a Halloween costume.
The red dress she’s referring to is the one I wore for Halloween our senior year at CU when I dressed up as a sexy devil. Mason looked mouth-watering in his…stop thinking about him!
Kama: So?
Me: I am NOT sleeping with Michael on our first date. Hence, no need for slutty dresses.
Three dots start bouncing as she types her reply. When it arrives, her message is a jumble of chili peppers, eggplants, peaches, and what looks like sideways spit emojis. Oh. That’s just gross.
Kama: Wear the dress! And remember to shave. EVERYWHERE.
I send her a dancing middle finger GIF.
My phone rings.
“No,” I answer, but Kama is already talking over me.
“You need some big dick action, or at least a few fingers need to come into play. Anything. I’ll even accept heavy breathing in the ear. It’s been almost two years, Aria.”
“One year.” One and a half, but I’m rounding it down to one. I have my own way of doing math that doesn’t make me feel like I’ll turn into a lonely cat lady. “And it’s still no.”
“Aria,” she whines, drawing out the ‘a’ sound at the end.
“Love you. Call you tomorrow,” I say, hitting the red icon on the screen to hang up just as she screeches, “You better!”
My smile grows when my phone chimes a few seconds later with an incoming text message. Laughter bubbles out when I click the attached image of her holding a giant purple eggplant inone hand and giving me a thumbs up with the other. Where the heck did she get an eggplant? I miss her.
But she’s right. It’s time I give dating a chance. Move on with my life. I just don’t know how yet.
Because the pieces of my tattered heart still belong to a man who didn’t want them.
Chapter 3
MASON
Leaving the lights off, I open the back door to the house from the kitchen. The sticky night air hits me and humidity fills my lungs as soon as I step out onto the patio deck. Even after the sun goes down, you don’t get much of a reprieve from the oppressiveness of summer. Then again, I’m used to it after living in Tampa along the eastern Gulf of Mexico for over a year. North Carolina doesn’t even come close to the tropicality of Florida.
I lean back against the warmed wood of the house and look up at the inky sky. It’s a new moon tonight, making the blanket of star-lit black overhead that much more prominent.
It’s past eleven but I was too wired to sleep. The house was too quiet after Carter and Mama Mac left. My thoughts too jumbled.
Blowing out a weary breath, I slide my back down the side of the house until my ass hits the wood planks of the deck floor. With bent legs, arms draped over my knees, and hands clenched together, I close my eyes and focus on breathing. Inhale in for five beats, exhale out.
I don’t like the dark. It’s why I force myself to be in it. The only way to conquer your demons, your fears, is to face them. Stand up to them. Immerse yourself in them until the fear no longer controls you. The dark reminds me too much ofhim. Ofbeing locked in that closet. The feeling of claustrophobia and not being able to breathe. My stomach cramping from hunger; my throat so dry from dehydration it felt like I had swallowed broken shards of glass. The pain of stiff muscles from sitting in a hunched position for long periods. And the smell. I still haven’t been able to forget the smell of urine and feces that coated me like viscous tar because I wasn’t allowed out of the closet to use the restroom. I only spent eight months with Troy and Pamela, a foster family I was sent to when I was twelve, but those eight months damaged me in a profound way. Mentally, physically, emotionally. I’m twenty-six years old and still afraid of the goddamn dark.
As sweat begins to build and the panic starts to rise, I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate on loosening the constriction in my chest.Just breathe.
There’s a swish of noise several feet away, then a feminine sigh.
Aria.
I know it’s her without opening my eyes. If I was within a hundred feet of her, I would instantly know. Her presence always triggered a physical response. A visceral cognizance. Like having my veins pumped full of liquid electricity until every cell in my body felt like they would burst wide open.
The house next door is just a shadowy outline, but my eyes have adjusted enough for me to see her silhouette. The only times I saw her today were clandestine glimpses through the windows. I thought I had steeled myself for when I’d come face to face with her for the first time since that New Year’s Eve. Clearly, I wasn’t as prepared as I thought I would be. Having her so close now, only feet away, is like a physical punch to the gut.
Not wanting to give away my presence just yet, I remain quiet and watch, soaking up her nearness. Walking away from herwas the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Gut-wrenchingly, painfully hard. And so incredibly stupid. I’ve regretted every second since.
I allowed those damn fears, my past trauma, to control me. Aria deserved better than me. I was too broken. Too messed up in the head. Too full of anger and resentment. Too afraid to let her love me and too afraid that my love for her would be pernicious and toxic. I didn’t want my darkness touching her beautiful light.
