Dinner was incredible, and the atmosphere made it so much better. Everyone was in good spirits as we chatted and laughed and joked with each other. I don't remember the last time I sat down to a meal like that. I was wrong about the food being wasted too. Everyone had seconds, including Arthur’s guys. I look down at the table to see Mason struggling to keep his eyes open. "Hey, buddy, do you want to go to bed?" I ask him.
He blinks back at me and then looks around the table. I think for a moment that he’s going to say no but then he lets out a sigh. "Yes, please."
I push back my chair. "Come on, bud," I say, reaching for his hand and helping him up. "I'll clean up when I get back," I announce to the room without a thought, and then head upstairs with Mason to put him to bed.
"Nova," Mason calls as he climbs into his bed.
"Yes?"
"I could have come up on my own," he tells me, acting all independent.
"I know you could have, but I wanted to sit with you for a bit. I feel like we’ve not spent any time together for a while," I say.
"That's because you're always with Ice or Marissa and Georgia." It's not said in a bad way, just a ‘that’s the facts’ kind of way. But my heart sinks. It's been a rough few weeks, but he's right, I have spent more time with others than him. Guilt swirls inside of my stomach, and I think I'm going to bring my lasagne back up.
"Mason, I'm so sorry," I tell him, climbing onto the bed next to him. "I promise I'll spend more time with you."
He pushes himself into a sitting position. "Why are you sorry?" he asks, confused.
"Because you're right, I haven’t been spending time with you and I should have been."
He rolls his eyes at me and lies back down. "I love you, Nova, but we don't always have to spend time together. It's okay if you spend time with others. I like spending time with the guys without you."
"You do?" I ask.
"Mmmhmm," he hums. "They don't treat me like a child, or like I'm stupid. And they are teaching me how to draw better." He's beginning to fall asleep, and I want to let him rest but I want to talk to him too.
"Mase, I don't treat you like you’re stupid, do I?" I ask, worried that’s what he thinks I'm doing.
He sighs the little huffy sigh he does when he's tired and I'm annoying him. "No, Nova. Uncle Roger and Aunt June do. You are my favourite person; you don't even treat me like I'm a child. You always tell me the truth; you don't keep things from me..."
"Mase, I have kept something from you… there are two guys outside—"
"I know. Tongue told me. He said that you didn't want me to worry. But I'm not worried because they will take care of us. They'll take care of you. I love you, Nova, you're my sister, but you're my hero too." His last words were barely a whisper, but I heard them loud and clear.
How can he think I'm his hero when I failed to protect him? As I watch him drift into a deep sleep, I vow to always take care of him. No matter what I have to do.
When I walk into the kitchen, I see Prospect drying the dishes, while Georgia puts them away. I glance to the table and see Max chatting with Tongue. "I would have cleaned up," I tell the room, feeling guilty that they are cleaning up after us.
Max holds his hand out for me, and I instinctively walk to him, reaching out and grabbing it. The moment I reach him, he pulls me onto his lap. He tucks the loose strands of hair away from my face and neck, as his eyes scan over my face. "I love that you want to help, but it's not on you, baby. You're not responsible for everything."
"I know," I say, barely above a whisper. "I just… it's…" I bite the inside of my cheek. The truth is that it's hard for me to accept that I'm not responsible for everything. Every day, since moving in with my aunt and uncle, I was made to do everything. Cook, clean, dishes, take care of Mason. So not doing it just feels wrong.
"Hey." Max grabs my chin and tilts my face up to his. "You sure?" he asks.
I nod, giving him a smile. "I'm sure. It's new not having to do everything, but I know that not everything is my responsibility."
He kisses the tip of my nose then looks to his sister. "You good down here with these degenerates?" he asks with a smirk. Tongue throws a napkin at him but doesn't say anything.
“Yeah, we're good. We're almost done then I think we're just going to watch a movie," Georgia tells him as she continues to put away the dishes.
"Good." He stands, gently lowering me to the floor as I drop my legs. He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the room and up the stairs.
He kicks his bedrooms door shut and guides me to the bed. I take a seat as he walks over to his bag and pulls something out of it. He takes a seat next to me and hands me the item wrapped in tissue paper. "What's this?" I ask.
He swallows, looking down at the time then back up at me. "Open it," he tells me. I begin to unwrap the tissue paper as he tells me, "I remember you saying a few weeks ago that you liked writing in your journal. And I know that you left yours behind, so..."
He leaves the sentence hanging there as I remove the last bit of paper to find a light blue softcover notebook and a ballpoint pen. I look up at him. "What is this for?"
