Anger management. I crumple the paper in my hand.

No charges were pressed against me, but I’m sure Liam’s getting a kick out of the anger management classes the judge recommended. Fucking prick. I know the asshole would have pressed the issue further if it wasn’t for the company. He wants to save face and hold this over me so I can do his bidding.

That’s not going to fucking happen. I’ll take on all the debt if I have to. The project is canceled, so I’m taking the hit and dissolving the company. I drop the empty bottle of whiskey in the trashcan. The glass clinks against the metal frame of the photograph. I stare down into the bin, the shattered glass marring the photo of the picture-perfect family. It’s destroyed… but really it had always been like that.

I’m tired and angry, and tired of being angry, too. I just want happiness. For me, that means Jules. I shake my head and lean back against the kitchen wall.

Call it what you want. Out of everything in life, she’s the only thing I know I truly want. That has to mean something.

I start to make my way upstairs, walking slowly and dreading a night alone in this empty house. It never bothered me much before, but I can’t fucking stand the silence now.

I stop midstep. Knock, knock, knock. Three times at the front door. I go still with my hand on the banister.

I wait a moment, wondering who the fuck would be here this late at night. I prepare for the worst, thinking it’s my father. I can’t face him right now. Not after what he’s done and what I said. I open the door with a swift pull, prepared to turn him away, but my voice is caught in my throat as I look down at Jules.

Her baby blue eyes look at me with a mix of emotions. Fear, sorrow… hope. The chill of the wind spreads goosebumps along her arms and blows her long, blonde hair off her shoulders. She looks to her left and then right, pulling her leather jacket tighter around her and taking a small step toward me.

“Mason,” she says and licks her lush lips. She's wearing that same color I’ve grown to expect from her. “I-” she clears her throat and looks away as I stand numb in the doorway.

Fate’s delivered her to me. I can’t let her go this time. I won’t.

“I was hoping we could talk?” she asks me. Her heels click on the cement porch as she shifts with nervousness. Her tight blue jeans hug her curves, although the loose cream blouse beneath her jacket leaves much to the imagination. I know what’s under there though.

I don’t say a word, too afraid of scaring her off. Instead I take a step to the side and open the door wider, waiting for her to walk in.

Her cheeks and the tip of her nose are a beautiful rosy red from the bite of the night air.

She hesitantly steps inside and looks around as if she hasn’t been here before. I close the door and stare at the lock a moment too long before turning it.

“Mason, I’m sorry,” Jules’ voice calls to me as I turn around to face her. I clench my jaw, watching her swallow and then bite down on her bottom lip. She’s worried and apologetic, but I don’t give a fuck about the past. I never did. I care about what she wants now.

“Why are you here, Jules?” I ask her in a rough voice. It’s deeper than I intended, but it’s all I can manage.

“I just heard about what happened,” she says uneasily. She tucks her hair behind her ear and waits for my response, but I don’t give her one. I’m not interested in talking about anything but us. I don’t want to taint her with the bullshit. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for hurting you,” she says in a tight voice full of agony.

“Is that all?” I ask her, taking a step forward and closing the space between us. My heart thumps chaotically in my chest.

She twists her fingers around one another. “I also,” she starts and then swallows. “I was wondering if you still… if you were interested…”

“In what?” I ask her, fucking hoping she says exactly what I want to hear. Make this easy for me Jules, and I’ll make everything right. I promise you sweetheart, I’ll make it up to you.

“If you’d like to maybe go out again? If that’s what we were doing?” I stare at her a moment, thinking it’s just too good to be true. She came back to me. There’s a saying about that, but it’s not meant for real life. It’s not meant for men like me.

“If you still want me,” Jules adds, the raw vulnerability so thick in her voice.

“I never stopped wanting you,” I tell her and gently push her jacket off her shoulders. If she thinks I don’t want her, she’ll know better soon enough.

“Mason,” she gasps as I lean down and kiss her neck. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s just that my body knows hers. But I’m not waiting for apologies or excuses or explanations.

I need to feel her.

“Mason, stop.” She pushes her hands against my chest, shrugging her jacket back on as I take a step back. “I need you to know that I’m worried we’re going too fast. I’m worried that this isn’t going to last.”

I take in a deep breath and stare down at my sweetheart. “I told you, Jules. If you’re with me, then you’re with me, and that’s all there is to it.” I take her hand in mine and kiss one knuckle, then another.

“Mason,” she whimpers as if I’ve broken her heart. She has no idea. I turn her hand over and kiss her pulse, my heart beating faster.

“No more of this running from me bullshit, Jules.” I stare deep into her eyes, my heart beating loud and fast and erratically. “Are you with me?” I ask her, feeling more vulnerable than I ever have in my entire life. I whisper, “Are you mine?”

“I don’t know that my heart is mine to give, Mason. It’s broken, and I don’t know if it will heal the right way.” Jules sniffles and looks ashamed, but she has no idea how much I understand. I truly do.

Grief is a journey, and she doesn't have to do it all alone.

I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her into me. “You don’t have to be perfect, Jules, to be perfect for me.” I kiss her hair and hope that she can understand.

I tell her, “I want you how you are today, and tomorrow I’ll want you how you are then.”

Jules buries her head into my chest and murmurs, “Why are you so perfect, Mason? How do you know just the right words to say?” Her voice is soft and relaxed as she molds her body to mine, and that’s when I know I’ve won her.

“I’m not perfect, Jules.” My heart aches in my chest, knowing just how imperfect I am. And how imperfect I am for her. We aren’t meant to fit together, but I’ll force the pieces to connect and pretend it’s meant to be.

For her. Because I owe her that much.