He had his pants on and was looking at me. “You have some water in your fridge?” he asked me. I nodded since I had a filtered pitcher in there, assuming he was just thirsty. He left the room and I heard him rummaging around. A moment later he came back into my room with a huge glass of ice water. He held it out to me. “You want me to start some coffee?” he asked softly. “Do you have some aspirin or something somewhere? I’m sure you have a hangover.”
I just stared at him as I took the water he offered. Was he trying totake care of me? Was it guilt for what he perceived as taking advantage of me? Or maybe just old guilt? It didn’tmatter. I didn’t want his help. This was Mason. The first of many men I’d let hurt me, but the one that by far hurt the most.
When I didn’t answer him, he let out a soft sigh and left the room. I heard him in the kitchen again and quickly pulled on the shorts while he was distracted. When I made it out of the bedroom, the glass of water almost gone, I discovered he’d started my coffee maker. “I figured you’d want it strong this morning,” he said, glancing back at me. “Do you want me to make you some breakfast? It might make you feel better.” I was at a loss for words. I didn’t want him here. I didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to remember. And yet I didn’t tell him to leave. Instead, I turned and walked into the bathroom, using it and grabbing a couple of ibuprofen from the cabinet, taking them with the last of the water as I walked back out into the living room.
That absolute asshole had started making bacon and French toast in my kitchen, and my traitorous stomach rumbled because it smelled ridiculously good and I was starving. I sighed and plopped down in a kitchen chair, staring at his perfect, tattooed back. I only had one tattoo, a Celtic shield knot. It was over my heart, for protection. It hadn’t worked great so far, but I was still clinging to it.
He didn’t turn to look at me as he spoke. “I’m sorry if I fucked up again.”Had he, though?I’d been hammered. I’d been pissed as hell. He’d kissed me out of nowhere and took me to my bedroom without permission.He called me a cockslut. On the other hand, I’d been well aware of everything that was happening even though I was drunk. I knew where he was taking me when he picked me up, and I’d gone right back for more when he dropped me on the bed. Also,I kind of was being a cockslut.
Despite the timing seeming a little shady, I was pretty sure our activities hadn’t been his plan when he offered to drive me home. He seemed to legitimately feel guilty about the past. Like,reallyguilty. I wasn’t quite ready to forgive him for ruining my senior year and shattering my heart in the process, but round two was definitely not off the table. I kind of wanted to beat my head into the wall, because if I was being honest with myself, myhorny ass was ready to hop back on his cock right this moment. Let him do whatever he wanted. Let him have his fucking way with me.
I managed not to outwardly cringe at myself. “Seems like there were two of us fucking up this time,” I said. “Or you know, just fucking. I’m not sure on theuppart quite yet. I’m still trying to figure that out.”
He flipped the French toast and slowly turned to face me. His eyes were down but they finally slid up to look at me directly.Why the fuck did he have to be so hot?“I didn’t offer to bring you home to try to take advantage of the fact you were plastered,” he said softly, with none of the confidence or bravado I knew from him. “I swear. I was worried someone would follow you. I wanted to make sure you were okay. I feel... I don’t think I can ever make it all up to you after the way I treated you back then. I just... you were right there last night, and with all that passion, even though it was anger, just... all the emotions I felt back then came back and I couldn’t... I just couldn’t not tell you.”
I let him place a plate of food in front of me and hesitantly sit down across the table with his own. He looked at me and paused, as though waiting for my permission to eat. “You’re right,” I finally said, taking a bite.Damn it, he could cook too. “You can’t make it up to me. You fucking betrayed me. You humiliated me and broke my heart. You were supposed to be my best friend, but you hurt me, physically and emotionally.” He looked down, and I enjoyed the utter remorse on his face. “But I guess, at some point, I might think about hearing you out, or something.”
His head shot back up and he looked at me. I just looked back. I wanted him to know that he wasn’t forgiven. He’d really wounded me, and there was no way I could forget that just because he was amazing in bed. He was going to work for my forgiveness and my willingness to listen. Yes. In bed.
I knew I was being an idiot again. Mason was yet another red flag I’d hopped into bed with, though one I’d certainly never expected to. The last time we’d spoken to each other had beenthe day he’d punched me, kneed me in the balls, and been the complete and utter asshole I’d hoped he wasn’t deep down. He hadn’t apologized, never even attempted to, and had taken off right out of school.
Looking at him across my table, I remembered... that other thing. Whatever I’d seen in the driveway when he touched me. Things like that were rare, but when it happened, it was like electricity going through me. And whatever I’d got from him was... not good. I ate most of my food, then without looking up at him said, “So what the hell happened, Mason? Why are you back?”
I could feel him staring at me, but he didn’t speak. I finally looked up and met his eyes. Eyes that were boring into me. I couldn’t quite read them, which was unusual. Especially when he was someone whose mind I could practically read when we were younger. “You asked me what happened last night too,” he said quietly. “You want to tell me what that was about yet? That weird shit in the driveway? And no, I’m not here to call you weird, so don’t even start. You know whatever that was last night was weird as fuck and you just blew it off. Don’t think I don’t remember that shit from elementary school. Tell me what you saw. You’re going first this time.”
Well, didn’t his backbone return awfully fast.I sighed. “It wasn’t really clear. You know I can’t just make it work like I want to. The first touch was just pain. Overwhelming emotional pain. Blood. Darkness. There was yelling, but I couldn’t tell what was being said. I couldn’t see anything, just feel and hear.”
He swallowed but said, “And when you touched my palm?”
“Do you really believe this, or are you just making fun of me like you did in high school? Are you going to go tell your friends how crazy I am, or what?”
“Fuck off, Elijah. You think I don’t remember when we were kids? You scared the ever-loving shit out of me with your... abilities or whatever they are. The same thing happened before, or did you forget? Did you forget the day I came over right after my aunt died? You touched me, and you knew right away.You saw her and you saw me, hurt and crying, even though I wasn’t crying at the time and hadn’t told you yet. And do you remember the day in the cemetery? Do you? I knew you, Elijah. I knew you weren’t making any of it up. Now stop being an ass and tell me what you saw.”
The day in the cemetery had been the first time I’d realized I saw things other people couldn’t see. I was just commenting on the weird clothes the lady in the old section was wearing. Except, Mason couldn’t see a lady. We both ran out of there like track stars, shoving each other out of the way to get back to my house a block away. He believed me then, and apparently, he still did.
I sighed. I wasn’t really sure what I’d seen the previous night, and I didn’t want to upset him. I closed my eyes, trying to recall through the drunken haze I’d been in. “I saw a man, and you. You were in front of him, partially blocking him from my vision. You loved him, but I don’t think... I don’t think likethat.He was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt; I could see a tattoo on his upper left arm. I couldn’t tell what it was. He was looking at you, I think, but then he fell. And you were in pain. Not physical pain, but like you were drowning. You were drowning in it and didn’t know what to do. Guilt? You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t take it. You wanted to end it any way you could. You wanted it to end because it was too much. I don’t... I don’t know what it means, Mason, but that’s what I saw.”
He’d gone pale, and I could see tears gathering in the corners of his eyes that I knew he’d try to hide. He just stared at me. “See,” I said quietly. “This is why I didn’t want to say anything.”
Mason shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said, so quietly it was barely above a whisper. “You didn’t say anything that hurt me. I see it every day, every minute. You can’t make it worse.”
He didn’t offer any more information. I supposed he might have to come to trust me again as well, even though I hadn’t broken his trust back then. I just looked back down at my plate and we finished our breakfast in silence.
He took my empty plate before I could stand, rinsing themboth off and putting them in the dishwasher. He glanced around and said, “This is a really nice place. Did you fix it up yourself?”
I nodded, puffing up a little at his admiration. “Yeah, I did all the cabinets. I made the table too, and the porch swing. I also put that mantle over the fireplace. And I redid the floors. Oh, I made that bookshelf too. And practically gutted the bathroom because it was atrocious.”
He raised his eyebrows, looking around again. “Damn. I mean, I knew you were artistic, but I had no idea you could do all this.” He nodded in approval. “I can also tell most of the artwork is yours.”
Of course he’d know my work. “Yeah.”
He looked back at me. “You’re really talented, Elijah. You always were. This place is... it’s amazing. You’ve made it perfectlyyourhome. It’s like, modern and artistic and yet somehow rustic at the same time. It’s exactly what I pictured for you, just like you always—” He cut himself off.
“Yeah.”Just like I always wanted with you. “I love it here. It’s my favorite place, and I never want to leave.” Enyo was at my feet, begging for food, offended that I’d eaten before her. I fed her and freshened her water.
Mason spoke again. “Can I give you a ride back to your car?”
“Can I take a shower first?” I needed a ride, but I’d never felt so disgusting. Between vomiting, drunk sweats, and the cum that was dried on my skin, I wasn’t going anywhere without cleaning up. “If you need to leave, I can call Rory later and she’ll take me.”
