Page 142 of Breathe Like Hell

I heard the garage door opening less than a minute later—Mason, with Dakota’s food. It was good timing. She looked up at me nervously, but I just scooped her up into my arms and brought her into the bathroom to clean up. We took a very quick shower together, just to rinse off the sweat and cum, then went downstairs to eat.

Mason hadn’t even tried to come upstairs when he arrived and was sitting alone at the table when Dakota and I entered the kitchen. She had her pajamas on, thanking him for the food, sitting down right next to him as he opened the plastic bags.

I sat down, too.

He only looked at me for a second before averting his gaze, tension lining his jaw.

Mason and I had started hooking up again, significantly more frequently than before. There was no good reason for it other than the fact that he was a really good lay, and often available to me to fuck.

I’d asked Dakota, How many times?

How many times did you fuck him behind my back?

Her answer had been, A lot of times.

Well, I could fuck him a lot of times, too.

Whether or not I was getting the same thing she got out of it was irrelevant.

And it wasn’t like we ever actually spoke.

We just had sex or sucked each other off or gave rushed handjobs while kissing in such a violent way I often wondered if that verb still fit the action. More like mauling each other. Trying to eat each other alive. Pissed off that we were doing any of it and showing that aggression through our lips and teeth and tongues.

We never fucked face-to-face, though. That was my choice.

I just couldn’t do it.

Couldn’t risk looking into his eyes like that, not knowing what I’d find there.

And I never let him top me anymore.

With Aamon dead, I’d half-expected never to see Mason again. It’d been foolish to expect that, though. Neither of us were quite strong enough to break this off again, especially not with Dakota always bringing us back together.

I had to wonder where this path we were heading down actually led towards. How long were we going to keep doing this? When would Dakota ever find out? What would happen then?

What would happen when both of them realized I couldn’t be who they needed me to be?

I could feel Dakota holding out hope for a change in my behavior. Even if she’d convinced herself she was accepting of this, she wasn’t. I’d warned her against wishing for a kinder version of my personality to emerge because it didn’t fucking exist. Maybe if she knew the whole truth, she could ask Mason. Ask him how many times I’d actually ever been able to talk to him about the thing that haunted me the most.

Twice.

The answer was twice.

I’d been with him for so many years and it’d only been mentioned twice. I couldn’t do it.

And now, there were things that haunted me more, perhaps. The end of my relationship with Mason was probably more painful than anything else. It’d brought up everything I’d ever buried, mercilessly ripping all my emotions and memories out of the dirt where I thought I’d laid them to rest.

I shut my eyes, already trying to bury it all again.

Tomorrow, I’d put myself back together. I’d tighten every bolt, lock every door, and pretend I was still fine.

Tonight, I needed the kind of relief that never lasted.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

MASON

It wasn’t too long after Dakota fell asleep that I heard Micah leave his bedroom and go down the hall to the guest bathroom, then start the shower. The fact that he wasn’t using his own shower only had two possible meanings. Either he expected me to follow him in there so we could fuck, or something else. His vice.