I nod. “So what happened?”
“We argued and couldn’t agree on anything. The judge set another hearing date for late September.” His jaw tightens. “And this morning, Stephen tried calling Maddie. She came to me all confused, asking if she should answer. I told her to block his number.”
I reach out without thinking, my hand resting lightly on his knee. “I’m sorry, Mason.”
He shakes his head, staring at the floor. “If he really cared about Maddie, he wouldn’t have waited until now.”
The room goes quiet again, the only sound is the faint hum of the box fan in the corner. Mason leans back against the wall, his eyes closing for a moment like the weight of it all is pressing him down.
My skin suddenly feels too tight, like plastic wrap stretched over my body. I’m overcome with the realization that I’m invading his space. Maybe he wants privacy, and I’m being annoying.
I clear my throat. “I can leave you alone—”
“No,” Mason says quickly, grabbing my wrist. “Please. Stay. I’m… glad you’re here.”
I hesitate, my chest tight. “But you didn’t answer my text last night.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, sounding smaller and needier than I meant. Heat spreads across my face.
He exhales, rubbing the heel of his hand against his brow. “I was overwhelmed. I wasn’t ignoring you—I just didn’t have the energy.”
“It’s fine,” I say too fast, trying to recover my dignity. “It’s not a big deal. I was just worried.”
A faint, tired smile tugs at his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “See, this is why I don’t do relationships. I can’t even text back. I’d be an awful boyfriend.”
“That’s not true,” I insist, and I mean it.
“I’m still sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You don’t owe me constant updates. I just… get anxious sometimes. My brain jumps straight to worst-case scenarios.”
His brows pinch together. “What do you mean?”
I swallow, twisting the beaded bracelet on my wrist. “I thought maybe I freaked you out when I told you about Travis. That you’d… ghost me after that.”
“God, no,” he says, eyes wide and earnest. “I’d never do that.”
A shaky breath slips out of me. “Okay, good.”
He spreads his arms, a small, lopsided smile returning. “Now, come here.”
I give in, curling into his embrace. His warmth sinks into me, his chin resting on my head. His fingertips trace along the exposed strip of hip where my shirt rides up, making my stomach tingle.
Quietly, I murmur, “Do you like ice cream?”
He pulls back just enough to see my face. “Yes…?”
“When I was little,” I begin, “myobaachanused to take me out for ice cream whenever I was sad or homesick in Japan. Didn’t matter what happened—ice cream always made it better.”
Mason smiles. “That’s sweet.”
“It is. And that’s why we’re going to get ice cream.”
I swing my legs off the bed and attempt to tug Mason up, yanking on his arm. His annoyingly muscled body is dead weight, and he barely budges.
He laughs. “Right now?!”
“Right now,” I insist, tugging his arm again. “No one can be miserable while eating ice cream.”
