“Mason—” Flint starts.
“Don’t say this isn’t what it looks like.” Mason looks between us again in disbelief.
I clutch the duvet tighter around me, wishing I could disappear into the mattress. My heart pounds so hard I swear it echoes in the room.
“You?” Mason clutches his backpack, his knuckles white. “And Dad?”
Flint moves closer. “Listen, son?—”
“Don’t come near me with that…” Mason waves his hand at his dad’s crotch. “You’re screwing my ex, Dad. What the fuck?”
Flint’s jaw tightens. “Watch your language.”
“Watch my—” Mason lets out a harsh laugh, running both hands through his hair. “Unbelievable. I come home early for Christmas and find you fucking my ex. I get it now why she was here at Thanksgiving.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I can’t make them stop. “It wasn’t like that?—”
“The hell it wasn’t.”
Flint steps in front of me, shielding me like he’s bracing for impact. “Enough. You don’t talk to her like that.”
Mason narrows his eyes. “Were you fucking when we were together? Makes sense why you liked hanging out here all the time.”
“Mason, don’t be ridiculous.” He’s not wrong. I did like hanging out here, but only because Flint treated me like the father I never had.
“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Flint says, his voice calm but dangerous, like the moment before an explosion. “This is on me.”
“Damn right it is,” Mason snaps. “I can’t believe it. My girlfriend, Dad.”
“She’s not yours anymore.”
“Doesn’t matter. You don’t just—” Mason’s voice breaks, and he turns away, fists clenching at his sides. “You’re an old man, Dad.”
“Thanks for the reminder, son.” Flint takes a step forward, regret softening his tone. “Mason, I didn’t plan this. It just happened. I fought it for as long as I could.”
Mason shakes his head. “You don’t ‘just happen’ into bed with someone, Dad.”
I force myself to speak, even though my voice trembles. “Mason, please.”
He turns to me, eyes glassy, jaw hard. “I can’t look at you right now.” He storms out, the sound of his boots thundering down the stairs, rattling the picture frames.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, clutching the duvet around me as if it will cover my shame. “Flint…” My voice is barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I’ll sort this.” Flint picks his sweats from the floor and storms out of the room, following Mason down the stairs.
Tears spill freely down my cheeks now, hot and endless as I grab my clothes from Flint’s wardrobe.
“Where are you going?” Flint shouts, stomping down the stairs.
“To Mom’s. I can see you’re busy.”
“Mason.” The door slams. “Stay. Let’s talk about this.”
“What’s to talk about? You’re sleeping with my ex, Dad. It’s freakin’ weird and embarrassing. You let me know when you’re done with your midlife crisis.”
More tears run down my cheeks. Flint loves his son. I can’t be the reason their relationship is strained. I won’t come between them.
“Mason. I’m not having a midlife crisis. Well, maybe I am. I don’t know. But what I do know is that I love her. This isn’t just a one-time thing.”
