Page 218 of Breathe Like Hell

“I’m sorry,” he bit out. “I’m not trying to be that way.”

“But you are.”

“Okay.” His jaw flexed again, hand gripping the wheel tight.

“You said you accepted my messiness, that it didn’t make me untouchable. But every time I care for you in a way you don’t accept, I become untouchable.”

“Fuck, Dakota!” he responded, louder. “It’s not your messiness! Can’t you understand that? I can touch all of you. I love you. All of you.”

His next words were silent, yet I heard them louder than anything else. But you can’t touch me. You can’t love all of me.

I hadn’t noticed that we’d switched directions at some point during the argument and now were close to Mason’s apartment. Tears slipped down my face, and I wiped them away before Micah could see. When we pulled into the parking lot, I typed out a text to Mason with shaky thumbs and blurry eyes. I wasn’t sure why I’d even wanted any of this. Dinner alone would’ve been better.

I couldn’t force this to work, as badly as I wanted to.

Mason’s response vibrated in my palms.

Mason

I can’t tonight. Not with him

My cheeks heated with embarrassment, my tears coming faster than I could wipe them, small hiccups escaping me. Micah was silent, but I felt him watching me trying to keep it together. I reached for my silver locket, clicking it open and shut repeatedly.

Me

Please. I’m begging

Mason

I think it would be best if you just had dinner with him tonight. He doesn’t want me there

Me

I don’t care. I want you here. I need you here

His typing bubble popped up, then disappeared. I stared at the screen desperately, waiting for it to pop up again, but it wasn’t. After a minute, the passenger door to the truck opened, making me jump. Mason climbed in.

The men didn’t say anything to each other, and the tension now was worse than ever. In a different, more painful way. The history I didn’t know about was using up all the air.

I sniffled, scooting over towards Micah to give Mason room.

“Don’t touch me,” Micah murmured, making my heart clench. “Please.”

The lump in my throat grew and grew. I kept myself against Mason’s side. “I wish you would talk to me,” I said to Micah, knowing he’d hate me even more for doing this in front of Mason, but unable to find the strength to care. He pulled out of the parking lot onto the road.

“I wish you’d let me have dinner with you alone.”

Mason stiffened against my side. Barely, but enough for me to feel it.

Anger crackled through me.

“You don’t get to act like this without telling me why.” My voice was steadier, louder. Micah’s lips pressed together tightly as he accelerated, the truck speeding down the road.

“Stop.”

“No. I’m not going to stop.”

“Dakota—” Mason started, but I cut him off.