“I gave you an easy solution to shut the haters up. You wouldn’t have to do a thing except smile for the camera, and yet you refused.”
“In high school I dated this girl who also wasn’t big on social media.” My explanation cuts off the tumble of her words. “Unlike you, she did have accounts and did let me post pics of the two of us on mine.”
“You told me you don’t like having your full face show in pictures.”
“I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but they were only ones like her kissing my cheek or with one of my hats blocking most of her face.”
The urge to punch something hits me with force. Now I’m the one who can’t look at Kay. The parallel between our relationship and the one I had with Chrissy is not something I wanted to admit to myself most days—forget about explaining them to Kay.
“What I didn’t know at the time was she did that because I wasn’t the only person she was dating.” I swallow and force myself to search out her comforting grays. “She was also dating Trav.”
“How?” Kay sputters at my confession, jaw going slack, eyes blinking in confusion. “How is that even possible?”
Because you were a stupid-as-fuck seventeen-year-old who let himself get led around by his dick. My inner coach is so nice to me. Not.
“Her name was Christina Hale, and she went to school a few towns over from ours.”
“For how involved Trav was in our relationship, I find it hard to believe you two didn’t talk about the girls you were dating.”
“Oh we did.” I let out a humorless chuckle. “I told him all about Chrissy, and he did the same about his girl—Tina.”
#Chapter12
Wow.
I’m not sure I have any words right now.
Of all the ways Mason could have explained his kneejerk reaction that led to our breakup, this was not one I could have predicted.
I wish that were our only issue.
“Please, Kay. Let me fix this.”
I jump off the back of the Camaro when Mason goes to reach for me again. I can’t have him touch me. If he does, I’ll crumble, and I can’t let that happen here.
Not in public.
Not where people can see.
I may be protected here, but it’s still too risky.
“I’m sorry, Mason.” I am. I really, really am. “But you can’t.”
“Bullshit!” he snaps.
The soles of my Chucks squeak against the painted concrete as I start to pace the width of the garage. I make the mistake of looking over at Mason when he curses, and damn him. Why does he have to look so good leaning against a car? This would be much easier if I wasn’t so damn attracted to him.
Or, you know, if you weren’t in love with him. My inner cheerleader rolls her eyes, so hard if she were a cartoon and not a manifestation of my conscience they would have popped out onto the floor.
“Mason—”
“STOP calling me Mason.”
The splintered pieces of my heart shatter into dust. He wants me to call him Mase. I can’t do it. I have to think of him as Mason. I need the distance it creates between the campus playboy he used to be versus the man who owns my heart.
As much as I wish it weren’t true, he does still own it, and if the last two days had never happened, I’d be closing the distance between us and letting him fold me into his strong, muscly arms.
But they did, so I can’t.
“You should go.”
Please, please, please go before I lose it completely.
“I told you”—he pushes off the car—“I’m not leaving until we fix this.”
“If you’re looking for forgiveness, I forgive you. I’m not going to lie and say it doesn’t hurt—it does—but I understand now why you jumped to the conclusion you did.” I eye him warily as he starts to move.
“And I’m sorry. God, baby, I’m so sorry I hurt you.” His steps continue, and for each one he takes toward me, I take two back.
“I believe you, but when you broke up with me…you didn’t just break my heart.” I choke down a sob before it can escape. “You broke a part of me that was barely even strong enough to be with you in the first place.”
“Fuck! Don’t say that.” He stalks across the remaining space. A whimper that sounds more like a wounded animal than anything that could come from a human leaves my mouth when he cups my head between his large hands, his fingers tangling in the hair at the base of my skull.
Fuck. Losing him was hard. I didn’t think I would survive it. But now? After almost three days of dealing with what I consider my worst nightmare since losing Dad, having to push him away because I realize I really am not strong enough to handle being with such a public figure? Gut-wrenching. Skinned alive, dipped in a vat of acid level pain.
“We each have our demons, Mason. The only difference is mine aren’t just winning…they won.”
I bring my hands up, my fingertips hovering over his chest for a second before I have the strength to actually touch him. Fire spreads through my veins at the contact, and I almost lose my resolve to do what I have to do. The fortifying breath I take almost does more damage than good when it brings the intoxicating scent of his soap with it.
“Maybe if you told me about them, if there were no more secrets, I could help you fight them.” He pulls me slightly closer, ignoring the way I’m trying to push him away.
I
