Chapter 22

LILY

Waking up in my old bed in my old room is shit. I wish I had a magic remote control that could just rewind time back to the start of college.

Back when Mason and I were happy, and everything was perfect.

I think about the list and the most important thing on it: ~still in love big time~. Who would have thought that’s the one we’d fail at?

I can’t help but wonder—if I had moved into the apartment at the start of the year—would things have been different? Maybe Mason wouldn’t have pushed me away.

Maybe he would’ve been there to tell Cameron to shut the fuck up and stop him from tormenting me. Or maybe Cameron would never have done anything to me.

A knock on the door makes me sit up in my bed.

I call out, “Yeah?”

Dad pops his head inside my room before walking in. “How are you feeling?” he asks, sitting at the foot of my bed.

“Tired,” I answer honestly.

“I was thinking about you, Lily-pad,” he says, and my stomach knots.

“I was thinking that you should see a therapist,” he says.

I throw my body back onto the mattress. That was the same thing Brittany said. What am I going to say to a therapist anyway?

“You’ve been through so much. You should talk to someone, a professional. They could really help you deal with some of this.”

“I don’t really want to.” I sigh. Talking to a stranger about all my problems sounds like it would be the most awkward thing ever. They’ll probably think I’m stupid.

“I went to a therapist after we lost Preston, and then when Heather cheated on me, and it actually really helped,” Dad says, surprising me.

I sit up and look at him with wide eyes. This is also the first time I’ve heard him talk about Preston, the baby Mom and Dad had before me, who didn’t make it.

“You went to therapy?” I ask, narrowing my eyes now to make sure he isn’t talking shit to me.

“I did. I even went again after last Thanksgiving.” He nods, seeming to be telling me the truth.

“Why?” I ask, feeling intrigued.

“Because I felt guilty. I couldn’t believe I let Heather manipulate me like that, about how horrible of a father I became,” he says.

I drop my eyes to my blanket. He did become a shitty father, but I feel guilty saying it out loud. And he kept his promise: less travel, being a better dad.

“It helps,” he reassures me.

“Okay,” I agree, surprising us both.

“Really?” Dad gasps before holding his hand up. “Nope, don’t answer. I’m not giving you a chance to change your mind,” he says before jumping to his feet.

He stops at the door. “Do you want to find one?” he asks.

“You can.” I shake my head. I can’t really believe that I agreed to go to therapy.

I roll over in bed, trying to find my phone to text Brittany. I send her a simple text saying Dad is finding me a therapist before my fingers hover over Mason’s name.

I really want to text him. Beg for him to come back to me, to be his old self. Instead, I turn my phone all the way off and hide back under the covers.

***

Today is officially the day that marks four weeks since I’ve last seen or spoken to Mason, and it’s also my third therapy session. I promised Dad I’d try it that day when I showed up at his house a crying mess the day I left Mason’s apartment.

I’ve been going every week since.

I kinda wish I had started therapy years ago. My therapist, Suzanna, is around my mom’s age and reminded me of her at first, but she is nothing like her.

She is kind, caring, empathetic, and understanding, and is helping me work through my trauma—starting with the accident.

I really didn’t think it affected me as much as it has. But Suzanna has been really great in helping me learn that it’s okay not to be okay sometimes.

We’ve also touched a bit on Mom. She’s teaching me that even though Mom never actually physically abused me and I still had a better life than other people, Mom was still an abusive person—just in a different way.

Every time we talk about my mom, my mind wanders to Mason and his mom. I’ve started to think about Tayla and Gemma, wondering if they are okay.

If they know about Mason’s injury.

After leaving my therapy session, I don’t immediately drive off. Instead, I text Tayla to check in on her.

Has Mason told her we broke up? Did we break up? Neither one of us actually said the words, but what couple in a relationship doesn’t talk for an entire month?

Broken-up people, that’s who.

As I drive home, snow begins to fall from the sky softly. I smile to myself, thinking it looks like we will be having a white Christmas.

Upon reaching home, I sit in my car for a bit, watching the snow slowly come down and stick to the ground.

A knock on my window startles me, causing me to scream and clutch my chest. I come face to face with an amused-looking dad.

“That was mean,” I state as I climb out of the car and give him a playful glare.

“Why are you sitting in your car?” he asks as we walk toward the house.

“I was just watching the snow,” I reply, climbing the steps.

I jump out of my skin again when I see a figure sitting on one of the seats.

“Mason?” I gasp when I realize it’s him.

“Hey,” he says quietly as he stands up. He looks so much thinner than the last time I saw him. His hair is shorter, and the beard he was growing is gone. He looks more like my Mason again.

“What are you doing here?” I ask quietly, not knowing how I feel about seeing him. I’m angry, sad, happy, and excited all at the same time.

“I was wondering if we could talk?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Dad says before slipping inside.

“Why are you here, Mason?” I repeat, crossing my arms, partly to shield myself from the cold and partly to comfort myself.

“I wanted to apologize,” he says, looking down at his feet before looking back at me. “I’m so sorry for how I treated you.” His eyes are welling up, but he quickly blinks the tears away.

“You didn’t deserve any of what I put you through,” he says, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have taken my pain and anger out on you, and I am really, really sorry. If I could, I would take it all back.”

“I understand.” I nod, not knowing what else to say.

“I went to the dean and told him everything about Cameron. About him harassing you,” he begins before pulling on his lip, his nervous tick. “He purposely moved out of the way so I would get tackled,” he says, sadness filling his eyes.

“Liam told me,” I reply.

“I also changed my major and have sorted out student loans.” Mason’s mouth twitches up slightly.

“What did you change your major to?” I ask.

“Pre-med,” he says.

“That’s so cool,” I say. “But how in the world did you choose that? It seems so random!”

“I chose it because of you,” he says with a smile.

“Me?” I ask. How on earth did I help him choose pre-med?

“When you were yelling at me,” he begins, “you told me I could do anything. I could be a fucking doctor if I wanted to be. Then, during rehab, I really liked my physical therapist. He seems to love his job. And my therapist loves her job too. I don’t know, the medical profession just seems cool. Plus, I also thought about that doctor who helped you.”

“What doctor?” I frown. I haven’t been to the doctor in forever.

Mason gives me an “are you serious” type of look.

“The one from your accident,” he says, making it click in my head.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” I reply. “That whole period is so hazy, but I do remember she was cool.”

“After I met her, I thought about becoming a doctor, but football seemed like a better option,” he explains. “Then, when you said you believed I could be a doctor if I wanted, it seemed to just be the right thing to do.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“Doctor Mason Cooper, it has a ring to it,” I say.

I smile at him—he’s going to be an incredible doctor. Then I realize something else he said and poke his shoulder as I ask, “Did you say your therapist?”

“Yeah, I went to therapy,” he says, his voice so quiet I almost don’t hear him. He looks at his feet, clearly embarrassed.

“Me too,” I say.

His head snaps from his feet to me. “How are you finding it?” he asks.

“It’s helping,” I say.

“Yeah, me too,” he says. Then, with a laugh, he adds, “Turns out I had a lot to say about all the things I don’t like to talk about.”

“I know what you mean,” I say. We share a long look of connection. “I’m really proud of you for going,” I tell him.

“I’m proud of myself too. I wish…” He chokes up for a moment, then manages to continue. “I wish my brother had done it. Maybe…”

He can’t finish that sentence. I rub his back and nod. We seem to both start shivering at the same time. It’s so cold out here.

“Do you want to come in?” I ask, nodding toward the door.

My heart sinks when he shakes his head no. “I better not,” he says. “But,” he adds, “if you are open to it, I want to show you how sorry I am and try to make the very shitty things I did hurt a little less.” He half-smiles, looking nervous.

Despite the hurt Mason put me through, I still love him with all my heart, and he seems like he’s getting better, more like my Mason than that shell of a man he was.

I smile. “I would love that. As long as you promise to never do that to me again. I need to take things slow,” I add. I know I won’t be able to go through that again.

“You really hurt me, Mason. I need to build trust again.”

“I promise.” His smile finally reaches his eyes. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says, looking like he wants to say something else. I really want to grab his stupid face and kiss him, tell him how stupid he was and how much he hurt me, how much I still love him.

I smile, digging my fingernails into my palm to stop myself from reaching for him. “Talk tomorrow.”

He smiles. “Talk tomorrow, Lily.” He walks past me and down the stairs, leaving the scent of his cologne lingering in the air. He called me Lily. He never calls me Lily. Always Princess.

Are we going to get back together? Are we back together already? Do I want to be back to where we were?

I watch Mason walk down the footpath toward his house until he disappears from view. Even when he’s out of sight, I continue to stand there, staring at the empty space where he once was.

I find myself wondering what happened to make him snap out of his funk. I hope he can keep his promise so we never have to go through this again.

Closing my eyes, I think about my future. At the start of the year, my future was Mason. It was just us. Nothing else mattered.

Now, I see myself having a job I love, owning a home, being married, and having a couple of babies. I’ve tried to picture my future with someone else, but it’s always with Mason.

He is my future.

I just hope I’m his future too.