Past…
“MOM, YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO trust me when I tell you…I’m okay,” I declare, breaking through my mother’s worry.
“You’re not okay,” she denies. “After what happened, there’s no way for you to be okay.”
“All right. I’m not okay, but I will be,” I promise. “How’s that?”
“Are you coming home soon?” she broaches on a resigned sigh.
As a kid, a lot of hours were spent wondering why it was that my mom left. I was too young to comprehend her frame of mind as she packed my little sister up to go, leaving me alone with an abusive father.
As a teenager, I grew to resent the fact she left me to suffer. In emotional defense, I buried all memories of her, and most of those memories were good—safe and soothing.
Up until the day she walked out, my mom and I had been close.
It wasn’t until I was an adult that I felt the urge to seek her out. To move on with my life the healthiest way I could, I needed to understand her reasons for doing what she did. So when I was twenty-three, after finding a stack of unopened cards she’s sent through the years in my father’s den, I decided it was time.
And that was when she explained.
My parents fought, physically and emotionally. After the roughest beating she endured, she made the decision to leave. She tried to take me with her. However, my dad was a mean old drunk. He not only fucked with her physically, he tormented her mentally. He threatened that if she took his boy, he would walk the ends of the earth to find his little girl. He swore once he did, he’d drag my sister back to Silvervale and treat her like the spoiled brat she was.
If Mom agreed to let me go, leave me to him, he wouldn’t seek retribution.
I can imagine that as a mother, choosing between your children would be an impossible decision. Dad made that decision for her. She was too weak to take him on. She had no job. No family. Nothing and no one to aid her safe escape.
Since getting to know her as I have, she’s shared horrific stories of their marriage. She explained how much he loved her in the beginning. Then how, when money got tight, he resented her for giving him babies to care for. Slowly, he turned to alcohol and his love then turned to resentment, then lastly, his feelings for all of us turned to hate.
Dad belittled her daily. Threatened her a lot. And beat her often.
Once she left, those beatings were for me. I took them, accepting that was my life. That life grew to be the only life I ever knew.
That life was shit, aside from finding Katie later.
Looking at the view outside my hotel room window, I slide my hand in the trouser suit pocket and promise, “I’ll be home as soon I can.”
“Are you going to…” Mom trails off, her words a careful whisper.
“I’m gonna check in on him,” I reply.
Mom sighs, deep and heavy with concern. “He doesn’t need you to do that, Mason. Father or not, he doesn’t deserve your kindness.”
Mom’s right in that he doesn’t. I haven’t spoken to my dad in two years. No amount of time passed could bridge our aching gap, but he’s still my dad. Sometimes, when courage finds me, I still check in. The conversations are most often short and empty. But they’re something.
“I love you, honey. And I’m so sorry for what you went through,” Mom says. “I’ve been watching the local news there. They say Marcos threatened you in open court.”
“He did,” I confirm. “He’s crazy, but he’ll never hurt anyone again.”
“That sweet little girl, so brave…” she empathizes. “God, what will she do now?”
“Live her life,” I supply, not certain that, even with professional help, Penny Blake will be free to do so without the fear of her captor finding her again.
The part my testimony played in his verdict was minimal in comparison. There were lines of character witnesses waiting to share their stories. Women, of all ages, had much to say about Marcos and his cruel, malicious ways with them. Each cried their share of tears as they held their courage strong.
The demon Marcos is will never see the light of day again. The only sentence better would be if he’d have been put to death. Unfortunately, being as he just harms little girls but has never taken one’s life, this wasn’t on the table.
“Bad wrap for Luxson County,” Mom says, snottily. I picture her sitting at her kitchen table, smoking a cigarette, and rolling her eyes as she adds, “Those people considered their county so highbrow. Bet they aren’t thinking that anymore.”
My fucking mother.
“I need to get out of this suit and grab something to eat.”
“You call me later if you need anything,” Mom encourages.
When an abrupt knock comes to the door. I turn from the window and head toward it.
“I’ll hear from you soon,” she goes on.
“You’ll hear from me soon,” I promise.
“I’m really worried about you,” she utters again, not letting this go.
Cutting her off, I tell her, “Someone’s here, Mom. Gotta run,” and disconnect.
Grabbing the handle to the door, I pull it open. When I do, my body tenses at who I find.
One touch of his lips.
One gentle brush across my skin.
One word uttered as promise in my ear.
This is all it would take to bring Mason and I back to who we once were.
I’m sitting on the edge of his hotel bed as Mason towers from above, still contemplating his decision.
My drive here was a traumatic mix of chaos and haze. Thoughts stirred about where I was heading, what I’d find when I arrived, and how if this ended the way I’d hoped, what Mason’s decision would mean to my marriage, my family—my life.
Mason’s in Luxson for work, Dad had said as we sat at his kitchen table sharing coffee. Some big case he’s been working on a while. He testified today. That sweet little girl…Dad had trailed off, pain striking for a child he didn’t know. Couldn’t have been easy for him. My guess, he could use a friend right now.
My father knew what he was saying, and he also knew I was listening attentively, even though I tried to feign boredom as he spoke.
As the miles passed, I questioned my reasons for coming.
As evening faded to night, I weighed the options without care of consequence.
When Mason opened the hotel room door, dressed in a suit and a smile made for me, I gave no hesitation as I demanded the unthinkable.
Now I wait for his answer.
As Mason unknots his black tie, he captures me through an invasive glare. He slides the silky material to the side, dragging it slowly from his neck.
“You look different,” he observes, casting a glance to my hair now blonde from brown. Then he scans my clothes. Designer, a far cry from what I used to own. “But you’re still you.”
“I’m still me,” I agree.
“If I were a better man, I’d send you back to your husband,” he tells me, his finger brushing the hair from my eyes.
“I didn’t come here for you to send me away,” I insist.
Mason’s head tilts to the side, his voice raspy and uneven as he demands, “Then tell me why you’re here.”
“I already told you.”
“Say the words again, Katie.”
Closing my eyes slowly, I ball my hands to fists.
Mason may have left town. Along the way, he may have also decided we couldn’t be friends. But other than a few years that have passed, the moment he opened the door we both knew nothing between us had changed.
Nothing.
Finding my voice, I give, “I came because—”
Cutting me off, he demands, “Look at me when you say it.”
I shake my head, denying what he’s asking. A tear falls through my closed lid. I expect it to drop down my cheek.
It doesn’t.
Instead, Mason’s finger brushes the sad away.
Opening my eyes, I find what I knew I would. My life’s happiness coming to full circle. All the memories of us together push forward. All the laughter, intimacy, and peace emerge. Everything we had, everything I never expected to end. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
I don’t think I ever truly did.
“Be with me,” I whisper.
“I’m not sure I can do that,” he returns with reverence.
“Be with me,” I say again.
Mason drops his head, staring to the ground at our feet.
“We do this, it’ll change you, Katie,” he tells me. “It’ll cut deep.”
Mason doesn’t know about Thomas and his life outside our marriage. He doesn’t understand how long my days have been or the grief each is filled with. He couldn’t fathom my reasons for staying in a marriage because I’ve promised my daughters the life they deserve. An oath not unlike the one Thomas gave me on our wedding day, but one stronger and more protective, as only a maternal promise could be.
Grabbing his hand that now cups my cheek, I lace my fingers with his.
A subtle sob breaks through my words but manage, “Mason, being with you again won’t cut me.”
“It will,” he assures.
“It doesn’t matter if it does,” I reply.
“Of course it fucking matters.”
“No,” I assert, shaking my head. “My heart is already bleeding.”
His eyes narrow and his hand moves from my cheek to my throat. Mason bends, resting his knees to the floor. He uses the palm of his hand to hold my chin steady.
Angry and bitter, he clips hoarsely, “Does he hurt you?”
“God, no,” I return. “Thomas isn’t like—”
“Don’t say his name,” he rounds out on a hiss.
“He doesn’t hurt me,” I finish on a whisper.
Eyes narrow and jaw tight, Mason rallies, “Why is your heart bleeding, Katie?”
Because even if I have the unconditional love of two beautiful, healthy daughters, I don’t have the love of you.
More tears fall. “Please,” I beg. “Just be here with me.”
“Why is your heart bleeding?” he pushes again, his voice distraught, his glare intense.
Because there’s no one else in the world who remembers the person I used to be.
Lifting my hand to his pressed white shirt, I unbutton one, then another. Mason scans my face as I continue without disruption.
He drops both arms, allowing the shirt to fall to the floor.
As it does, he leaves his gaze to mine and presses, “Why is your heart bleeding?”
Leaning up, I kiss the corner of his mouth. He stills, his body tense.
I could back out now, walk away, and be no worse for it. I could turn from a man I never stopped loving and follow the footsteps to a lie of happiness with one I never loved at all.
Or I could give myself what I’ve longed for. Truth, the dark veil of lies lifted. Passion, giving in to Mason as I once so easily had done before.
“Fuck,” he spits, grasping a handful of my hair with one hand and wrapping his other arm around my waist. Still on his knees, his hips secured between my thighs, Mason squares our gazes. “When I opened that door, I didn’t see you,” he whispers harshly, his breath fanning my face.
My brows furrow and I urge, “You didn’t see me?”
Mason brings his face to mine, the warmth of his breath covering my lips as he explains, “When I opened the door, I saw everything, Katie.”
His tongue sweeps over my bottom lip.
“Mason,” I gasp, clutching his arms for balance.
“I saw home,” he swears as oath.
His mouth crashes against my lips, his arms wrapping tightly around mine, caging me to him. His tongue pushes, coaxing its way inside, until I taste everything he is. Mason moves, positioning my back to the bed. He climbs over until he’s above.
Still cradling my head, Mason glares down. His eyes are alert, heated. Striking and deliberate.
“You saw home, too,” he tells me, and a whimper escapes my throat.
Nodding, the tears I’d been holding release, dropping down my temples in turn.
Mason works between us, lifting my skirt before the sounds of his buckle and zipper echo between us. Taking time, my fingers rove over his skin, the color of his tattoos, the contours of his chest, and the straining muscles beneath it all.
I strangle out a gasp when Mason stretches my panties to the side. I welcome the fit tight against my thigh.
As he slides in, my eyes slam shut. I breathe in deep as Mason gives all his weight. Again and again, his thrusts are fevered.
“Jesus, fuck,” he growls, tearing through the buttons of my shirt before ripping my bra to the side.
In and out again, offering no reprieve, he furiously sucks my nipple.
A whimper breaks from my mouth and I hold his head to my chest.
My heels dig deep into his back, caging him to me as close and for as long as I can.
“Mason, I’m close.”
“Wait,” he orders, using his elbows to hold my legs to his sides. Granted access to go deeper, he rams inside. As our bodies slam together, our gazes remained locked.
“I left you with him and he fucking broke you.”
“Please, don’t,” I plead. “Please just—”
“Be here with you,” he remembers my plea. “Fuck, I am. Swear to God, I am.”
The cords of his neck strain. He breaks our stare to look up before closing his eyes. His body starts to tremble, one powerful thrust melting into another. The hungry drives continue.
Until finally, we both succumb to what we’ve done.
Thirty minutes later, I’m still laying in the hotel bed. Mason is half-dressed. His chest is bare, his jeans zipped but not buttoned. He had gotten up a few minutes ago to dress and order dinner.
“In case you’re wondering, I’m covered,” I toss out, sated and satisfied to watch him move throughout the room. “I’m on the pill.”
Mason bends at the waist and plants his hands to the bed. He crawls up, settling himself at my side.
“I wasn’t wondering,” he says. “Figured you probably were.”
Wrapping my arm around his waist, I rest my chin against his chest, happy to gaze into his beautiful face. Mason drapes his hand around my waist, his hand settling beneath the sheet on my hip where his fingertips caress my bare skin.
“You good?” he questions, looking down and scanning my expression.
I know what he’s asking. He’s worried I regret what we’ve done. But honest to God, I can’t muster an ounce of remorse. Maybe later, when I’m home taking care of my girls, but not now. Here, there’s nothing I feel but peace.
“I think I’m okay.”
Taking my word, he nods and positions my head on his chest, using his fingers to comb through my hair.
“You were the last fuckin’ person I thought I’d see tonight,” he notes. “And this is the last place I expected we’d end up.”
I’m not surprised by either, but don’t explain why.
“You’re in town for work?” I question, small talk wanted but unnecessary. I could lay here in silence, taking him all in, for as long as he’d let me.
Using his other hand, he wipes the palm over his face and clears his throat answering, “Yeah.”
“When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
So soon.
“Wanna tell me why I opened the door and found you?”
Shaking my head, I tell the wall across the room, “No.”
“But you’re safe?” he questions, something so Mason.
“I’m safe,” I assure.
Physically, yes. I’m secure. Thomas would never touch me in a way I didn’t let him. And he’d never allow anyone else to do so, if at all possible.
Emotionally, no. I’m a fucking mess.
My marriage, my life, has taken a turn from the fences of stability, and I’ve been left to pick up whatever pieces we’re able to put back together. My decision to stay with my husband for the sake of our family hasn’t been an easy one to manage.
I’m sick that Thomas had an affair with another woman. I’m haunted by the images of the two of them together. I’m mortified that woman was someone I once called a friend. I’m angry he could do what he did to our family, then come home one afternoon, out of nowhere, to confess.
Slowly, Thomas and I are working together. But the damage is done. We both love our daughters, above and beyond ourselves. We’re dedicated to give them a life with two parents who love them very much. After that is anyone’s guess.
“Why’d you stop calling?” I ask, my curiosity too much to bear. “And why’d you stop returning my calls?”
Mason sighs. “I knew you were with him,” he says regarding Thomas.
Rolling my eyes at his reason, I state, “You always hated Thomas.”
“You’re right,” he agrees. “But I hated him for selfish reasons.”
“What were those?”
“He wanted you. And even if I thought he was a prick, he’d be the kind of guy I’d want for you.”
God, if he only knew.
“How’s that?”
“He’s educated. He’s established. He comes from a good family—a good home.”
None of what Mason says is what I ever wanted.
“I was so lonely,” I give. “After you left, I was—”
“Don’t justify why you have the life you have,” he insists. “I’m glad you have all you do, but it doesn’t mean I don’t wish we hadn’t turned out differently.”
“Do you have someone…” I start, but swallow hard, “you’re seeing?”
Shaking his head, he replies, “No. Work is busy.”
“Are you safe?” I question next.
Nodding, Mason talks to the ceiling. “I love what I do most of the time. But like today, I wish I would’ve taken up another career.”
Mason turns, stripping the covers off our bodies and resting his hips between my thighs.
“You stayin’ for while?”
Smiling, happy in knowing my girls are safe with my dad and not giving a care where Thomas is, I nod.
Mason grins as the knock comes to the door. “Let’s eat. Then we’ll have a drink while you tell me about your girls.”
I love that. Mason wants to hear about my family—sans Thomas.
“Okay,” I agree.
As Mason stands to his feet, his eyes don’t leave mine. He stops at the side of the bed and runs his finger down my face.
“I’ve missed you, Katie,” he tells me. “And I meant what I said earlier.”
Puzzled, I pause before saying, “I’ve missed you too.”
Murmuring to himself before turning away, he utters a simple, “Fuck, it’s good to be home.”