: Chapter 32

Payton

Before, May

“He crawled a little yesterday. Backward mostly.” I laugh, shifting so I’m sitting up, leaning on the headboard. “But I think he’ll have the hang of it soon.”

He stands across the room, smiling softly at the sleeping baby boy in the bed. “I can’t believe how big he’s getting. And so fast. He’s going to be running around like a crazy kid soon enough.”

I nod, running my hand along his little back. “You know, my mom has never even tried to call. Not that I want her to, but he’s just so precious, you know? I’ll never understand how anyone could ignore that there’s a small piece of them out there they’ve never met.”

“That’s because he’s not a piece of her.” His deep brown eyes meet mine. “He’s you, Payton, and maybe he’ll be a bit of me one day, too.”

“He is,” I promise, a small frown building, one that doubles when I realize he’s not beside me like he should be. “Why are you so far away?”

My arm stretches out, my hand seeking his, but he only smiles, his head tipping a little. “I’m right here, baby…”

“Ma, mm, mm.”

My smile forms before my eyes peel open, locking on to a matching pair of blue ones.

I laugh, grunting when Deaton pushes on my belly and practically throws himself on top of me. “Well, good morning to you, too, mister.”

Mason chuckles, reaching over and lifting him off, pushing him into the air and flying him above us like he’s an airplane. “Say, ‘Mama, we’ve been up for so long, and we’re starving. We want waffles.’”

Tugging the blanket up to my chest, I turn in the bed, meeting Mason’s eyes over the covers. “Hi.”

His grin stretches, and he leans over, pressing his lips to my forehead. “Hi. I’ve got you guys here for one more day, and you’re wasting it.”

I gape, and he chuckles, climbing from the bed with Deaton in his arms.

“Little D is changed and dressed, and he ate half a jar of that nasty oatmeal stuff. My sister’s in the lobby with Noah, so we’re heading down to meet them by the pond.” He buckles him into the stroller as I sit up in the bed, then comes back this way, leaning over me with a smirk that makes my body heat. The heat of his lips washes over mine as he whispers against them, “Get that perfect little ass outta bed, Pretty Little. Your boys will be waiting.”

I close my eyes, but the pressure of his mouth never comes.

The soft click of the door follows, and I throw myself back in the bed with a sigh, but I can’t wipe the smile from my face.

It’s May, which means Mason’s semester is almost over. Soon, I’ll have him for more than random weekends and holidays. At one point this summer, I’ll have him for several weeks straight.

The kindling flame in my belly grows at the thought, and I know if I sit here and think too hard on it, that flame will grow into an inferno. I can’t have that.

It’s hard enough not to beg him for things he’s yet to offer, even if I know it’s for my benefit.

He’d give me anything I wanted at any moment. That much I know.

It’s obvious and written in the way he looks at me, the way he touches me.

The way he tries his best not to touch me.

There’s a hint of torture in his dark gaze when we’re alone, and it only makes me want him more. There isn’t a single part of this…whatever this is between us that isn’t terrifying.

We’ve never really talked about what’s happening here, and maybe that’s because the words never seemed necessary. We’re just so effortless.

We slid right into friendship and, along the way, fell into something more.

Something real.

A sliver of guilt slips down my spine, and I tense, taking my memories back to a little over a year ago when my life took its first turn and I found out I was pregnant.

Not long after that the boy I loved left this earth.

It all feels so long ago and like yesterday at the same time.

If anyone asked me then if I thought I’d make it through that first year…well, I would have lied and said yes, but in my mind, I’d be screaming no. That I can’t do it and don’t want to. That it was all too much, and I wasn’t strong or ready.

I would have been wrong.

I might not have been ready, but I was strong.

I am strong.

The man waiting for me downstairs helped me see that.

I owe him more than I’ll ever be able to repay for what his presence in my life has done for me.

I don’t know what I would do without him.

Maybe you’ll never have to find out?

Smiling, I push from the bed, quickly changing and rushing into the bathroom to brush my teeth. It’s not until I grab a comb, looking up at my smiling face in the mirror, that my mother’s words come crashing down and bursting the little bubble I allowed myself.

She said I ruined her life.

I literally destroyed Deaton’s.

What if the poison I seem to carry infects Mason, too?

What if, instead of being the positive in his life the way he is in mine, I became the negative?

What if I’m not strong enough to let him go regardless?

No.

No!

I glare at the girl in the mirror. “Don’t do this. Don’t let her ruin you any more than she already has.”

Lifting my chin, I run the gold glittery comb through my long hair, splitting it down the center. I smirk as I make quick work of putting it into two Dutch braids, the one hairstyle my mother hated on me more than anything.

It’s petty and ultimately irrelevant, but I don’t care.

It feels good to be me, to do what I want, and right now, what I want is to go eat waffles with friends, my son, and the man who makes me feel like I matter.

But there’s something else I want, too. Desperately.

I just have to find the courage to ask for it.

I think I might.

It’s with that final thought that I slip into my shoes and head out into the hall.

The café is attached to the hotel Noah booked for us, the free nights at this place one of the many gifts he’s been given since signing his NFL contract. It’s one of those frilly places with teapots and three-tier fancy scones and treat things. I have no idea what it’s called, but everything I’ve tried—and I tried nearly all of it—is delicious. Not to mention the mile-high cinnamon toast waffles Mason ordered. A scoop of fried ice cream on top of three giant waffles? Whoever thought of that needs a raise, seriously.

We finished our plates a little over a half hour ago, but the food coma put us on lockdown, unable to stand from our tables.

The morning sun doesn’t help either, but it does feel good beaming down from above.

The café is at the farthest corner of the hotel, surrounded by a massive koi pond with rock waterfalls and a tiny bridge in the middle. There are ducks sitting in the moss, little ducklings learning how to cross from one side to the other.

Deaton is sitting in Noah’s lap, Ari right beside them, the three of them taking up the entire bridge. They’ve been sitting there for twenty minutes now, laughing and talking to Deaton, pointing out the fish below. Deaton’s eyes are glued to the water, and when I look to the side, I find Mason’s are glued on him.

A small smile curves his lips, and he just…stares.

“Hey,” I whisper, and slowly, his head turns my way. “Penny for your thoughts?”

The sharp angles of his face are soft in this moment, and he adjusts his chair so it’s facing mine, then bends forward, yanking mine closer.

He reaches out, tugging on one of my braids, and takes my hand. “You can have them for free.” He holds my gaze, promising, “You can have anything you want from me.”

Can I have your future?

The thought is so sudden I jolt, and Mason catches it, his eyes piercing mine as he searches for the source.

“Mase,” I whisper, glancing at the others and back. “What are we doing?”

Mason swallows, his thumb rubbing circles over mine. “Whatever you want.”

“But what do you want?”

“You. Him.” His answer is instant. Sure.

Absolute.

It’s as exhilarating as it is alarming. How could he be so certain? “You’re so young⁠—”

“Older than you, Pretty Little.”

“You know what I mean,” I murmur, my heart rate doubling. “This is my life. I made choices that led me here, and I understand my responsibilities. I welcome them now, but you…” I trail off, Mason’s head shaking as if to deny or refute my words, but they’re true.

I am a mother.

I have a son.

He is my life, and every decision I make will be with him in mind. Those decisions won’t always be easy, and sometimes, they’ll be sacrificial, but I am prepared for that. It’s my reality.

It’s not his.

It doesn’t have to be his.

“You can walk away anytime you want, you know,” I manage to say. “You have no obligation here.”

“Stop.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He frowns, pulling away and pushing to his feet, but only so he can come closer and tug me to mine. His hand comes around me, cupping the back of my neck, and he holds my gaze to his. “My father told me once a man worthy of the woman he wants lives and functions one way and one way only. It made no sense to me before, and I kind of thought he was crazy, but I get it now. He said when I knew, I’d be selfish.”

An unexpected laugh leaves me. “That is…not the philosophical line I was expecting. I was waiting for something earth-shatteringly profound.”

“My dad is more about action than words.” He grins but quickly grows somber once more. “But it’s true, Pretty Little. I feel it. When it comes to you, to both of you, I am selfish. I want all your time. All your tears. All your smiles. I want all of you, always, and I don’t want to share. I’m a good five seconds from going over there and killing my sister’s mood ’cause I want to show Little D the fish and the ducks, and I want to hold his little hands while he pretends like he’s walking on his own across the bridge. Because I’m selfish. Because I know what I want.” His eyes hold mine, his thumb running along my cheek. “I want you. Any way you’ll let me. Always.”

Before I can respond or break down in tears, as I’m pretty sure they’re coming, Ari and Noah rejoin us.

The conversation quickly shifts, and for the rest of the afternoon, I find all I’m waiting for is when the three of us can go up to our room, grab our things, and head back to the Avix campus to spend the last few hours we have together locked away in Mason’s room.

My lips curve as I peek over at Mason, Deaton now locked in his lap.

I guess he’s not the only one feeling a little selfish.

The moment the thought enters, a second, sobering one follows.

I’m not allowed to be selfish.

I have a child to think about.

His future to consider.

To be the best mom I can, to protect him from another potential loss, I can’t be selfish.

I have to be selfless.

It’s a little after ten when I finally move Deaton into the playpen. I kept him on the bed as long as I could, trying to make sense of the million thoughts and concerns and worries working their way through my mind.

My nerves are wound tight, my hands wringing together as I step back around the small divider Mason put up that separates the living room space from the bed, and there he is, as in tune with me as ever.

Mason sits on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped, a dejected expression on his handsome face as he meets my gaze with a small, forced smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Come here, Pretty Little,” he whispers, holding a hand out and widening his legs so I can slip between them.

I do, the position one of the few that brings us nearly eye level, mine just a few inches above his. His hand comes up, and as gently as ever, he tugs on my braids, a soft smile on his lips. “I love your hair like this.”

I love how he loves all the things about me that my mother hated, even a simple hairstyle.

“I know,” I whisper.

He swallows, moving the loose hair from my eyes. “Talk to me.”

Taking a deep breath, I find the strength to start at the most important yet confusing concern consuming my mind.

“I miss Deaton,” I say, meeting his soulful brown eyes.

The moment the words leave me, the rest comes rolling in, a sense of understanding sparking deep in the recess of my mind, making the dread I had over this conversation suddenly shift into confidence, because this must be said.

“I love him, Mason. As in still, and maybe that’s because he died as mine or because he gave me that little boy, or maybe it’s because I’m just meant to love him forever. I don’t know, and I don’t care to. It’s just what is.”

He nods, eyes still glued to mine. “I understand.”

I nod back, a little more hesitant with my next words but speaking them clearly.

“When I look at my son, I see his dad. I see him in his smile and his curly hair. The way he touches his face when he’s tired and how he sleeps with his hands under his pillows. All these little things, they make me think of him.” I swallow. “Even though he’s not here, even though I only get to see or speak to him in my dreams, he’s still here, and it’s my job to make sure that doesn’t change. I want Deaton to know who he got his name from. He deserves to be remembered, especially in his son’s eyes.”

Mason’s features tighten, but still he nods. “You’re afraid having me around will take away from that.”

“I know it will,” I whisper, and Mason’s face falls.

“Payton—”

I hold my hands up. “Please, let me finish.”

Mason’s mouth clamps closed, unease creating creases along his temples. I want to reach up and wipe it away, but I don’t.

I keep going. “I know it will, because yes, when I look at him now, I see the boy I lost, but when I think about his future?” I whisper. “All I see is you.”

Mason’s eyes spark with hope, his hands shooting out to grip my hips like a lifeline, like I tossed him overboard and, just before he went under, threw him a rope.

My lips quiver, and I reach to take his face in my palms. “I see you, Mase. When he takes his first steps. On the first day of school and at his first wrestling meet. On the sidelines at his first football game and in the passenger seat, teaching him how to drive.” My voice breaks, and I lift my shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I don’t know how it happened or when, but it’s the truth.”

“Baby…” He trails off, swallowing, waiting to see what might come next, too afraid, too aware to let the line he’s holding on to go.

“I’m scared,” I admit. “What I feel for you, it’s…different. Too much, maybe, and I”—my voice cracks—“I have a little boy to think about. As much as I want to be selfish, as much as I want to run headfirst and see where this leads, I can’t.”

Mason’s brows are pulled taut, his eyes clouding over as he stares at me, fighting to keep control, but I can see it. I feel it in the shake of his hands on my hips. “What are you saying to me right now, Pretty Little?”

The tears fall, and his face crumples with them. “I don’t think I can do this.”

He shudders, chin falling to his chest.

“Not yet.”

Mason’s head snaps up at that, eyes narrowing as he pushes to his feet, backing me up and caging me in. He swallows, hands planting at the sides of my head, eyes locked on the tears rolling over my cheeks before coming up to mine. “Yet,” he rasps, his voice thick with desperation. “Yet?”

“I know you said you’re ready for this, but this… We jumped without looking. Fell into this routine so fast that I forgot to stop and think. To consider where you are in life and where I am. Deaton has already lost who was supposed to be the most important man in his life. Now he has you, but we can’t pretend things aren’t complicated. You come see me or I come here, and we forget about everything else, but when Monday rolls around, you’ll be sitting in a college classroom, and I’ll be nursing a baby boy on a couch on the coast. You’re finishing your first year of college, and I just got my GED. You have your whole life.”

“Please stop saying that. It’s not fair.” His dark eyes pierce mine. “I know what I want, and I want you two to be my whole life.”

My lungs deflate.

Jesus. This is torture.

My smile is sad. “Maybe that’s what you want now, but that could change. You could want kids of your own one day, and then Deaton will be⁠—”

“I won’t,” he swears. “He will only ever feel how I see him, and how I see him is as mine. I won’t give him reason to question that. Never. I want to be what he lost because I love him. I want to be the most important man in his life, and I can do that without overshadowing the man who was supposed to be.”

“This is what I mean,” I whisper. “You are so ready to go all in, and I love that, but I can’t. I have to protect him just in case. I know it’s not fair, but I have so much to learn about being a good parent. This is me trying to do that.”

“I need him, Payton.”

“I’m not taking him from you. You can see him and talk to him whenever you want. It’s just…” Reaching up, I press my palms into his chest. “Mase, you need to do what you came here to do. Play football, enjoy college, and then maybe later⁠—”

“You’ve said ‘yet’ and ‘later,’ but you haven’t said what those words mean for us.” He scowls, but there’s tension he tries to fight, a thread of promise threatening to unravel. “Are you saying no to us, or are you asking me to wait?”

I swallow. “I could never ask you to wait.”

He presses into me, his knuckle under my chin, eyes narrowed. “But do you want me to wait? If it were up to you, if you held all the cards in your hand, what would you want me to do?”

“Mason.”

“Answer me, Pretty Little,” he demands. “No what-ifs, no maybes or maybe nots. You can’t be selfish, but if you could, if you were, would you ask me to wait? Would you want me to wait?” His voice lowers, breaking with his words. “Would you want me at all?”

There’s a crack behind my ribs, an invisible cord desperately fighting for a way to reach for him, begging to tie us together, to lock itself so deep inside him nothing and no one could ever tear it out.

“Mase.”

“Answer me,” he breathes.

“Yes.”

Mason needs no other explanation, that one word like liquid, heated hope, filling him to the brim and driving him forward. His lips crash against mine in a kiss so desperate, I feel the tethers tie him tighter to my soul.

He kisses me like a man possessed. Obsessed.

And I think he is.

He takes my mouth with a fiery passion so intense it’s like I’m on the outside looking in, the feeling so out of body and intoxicating, I can’t breathe. My entire body tingles, my knees giving out. Mason is right there to catch me, wrapping me in his strong, capable arms and caging me closer.

“You have no idea what you mean to me.” Mason’s forehead presses into mine. “I’m going to wait, Pretty Little.”

“It might take a long time.”

“I don’t care. I’m telling you right now, I could never want anyone the way I want you. This. I can wait. I will wait.”

I give a wobbly smile. “I would like that.”

A shuddered breath escapes him, visible tension leaving his body at my confession.

“Will you tell me?” he whispers. “When you know you’re ready, when you even think you might be, will you tell me?”

“You’ll be the first know.”

He holds my eyes captive, a sharp fierceness I’ve never seen before. “You said things won’t change for me and D. I’ll still see you and him. We’ll still talk. You’re saying when you’re ready, I’ll be the first to know.”

I nod.

“I need you to promise me.” I think I see moisture brim in his brown eyes, but he hides his face in my neck. “Promise me, Payton.”

“I promise.”