Page 67 of I Choose You

He steps toward me with an outstretched hand. “Nothing will change between you and me, Mackenzie. What we’ve been doing—”

I press my hand to my forehead. “It’s not just about that, Mason.”

“Then what is it? Help me understand. I know you don’t like commitment and worry about me leaving, but I thought us growing closer might have silenced those worries.”

Maybe it did for a short period of time, but this past week was a proofing period. I had hidden my worries, tossed a towel over them to help me forget. This visit to Austin makes me want to rip the cloth away to assess and reattach to fears I used to give so much attention to. Everything I hid doubled in size.

And it’s all because I let my guard down.

“It did in those moments, Mase, but look at this place. Once you move in, you’re not going to leave.”

I wouldn’t.

He shakes his head again, answering immediately. “That’s not true.”

“What’s true is that you’re moving. Air travel distance from Maine to Texas is over 1,800 miles. I know because I checked.” My voice is shrill and rings in my ears as the words come out faster than I anticipate. “Not to mention the expense of it. The life you have in Maine is being transported here.”

“Yeah.” He eats up more of the distance between us by stepping forward. Defeat flows into his features with a frown. Pain visibly takes root. It’ll hurt more if we keep doing what we’re doing and pretend like it isn’t affecting us. We cannot survive nearly two thousand miles. “And you’re a part of that life,” he shares intimately.

“You like the sound of that, but it’s simply not what’s going to be true for much longer.” I allow him closer, knowing it’ll be less of a blow if he’s close enough to touch me. “You’re going to create a new life here, Mase. Remember what I said?” He shakes his head no. So much has happened. “I said I was happy for you but sad for me. You can’t pick me up and move me with you.”

It’s the best way to explain how I feel without going into detail. It’s enough for him to take a hint, to figure out what’s coming next.

“Mackenzie.”

I hate the way my name sounds leaving his mouth. The enunciated beginning. The clipped ending.

He shakes his head. His tone cuts into my heart. Straight into my aortic valve. “Please don’t do this.” His gaze pierces into mine when he opens them again, and his hands latch onto my face, breaking me. A tear soon follows, sliding down my cheek to stop at the corner of my mouth. My tongue licks at it, swiping away the saltiness of my wounded heart. “Stop thinking that this move, this apartment, my promotion, means more to me than you do.”

His lips press against mine softly. I can pinpoint the sadness in the slowness. The anger when a tongue pushes into my mouth. Love swirls against my tongue. Hunger from the quick nips at my bottom lip. It makes me want to melt and forget about the weight of the last few weeks. Makes me want to pause life and allow him to caress and touch me one last time.

I take a solid minute to screw my head back on. No amount of affection is going to change this. It’s what is best for us, especially if we want to maintain a friendship afterward. This is the ending to our love story. Mackenzie and Mason will go back to the friends they were destined to be.

I push against his chest. Breathy, he retreats, his hand frozen on my cheek. If he were a dog, his tail would be between his legs, his ears pushed back and low. I hate that I’m doing this to him, to us, but one of us should be an adult and stop it before the heartache is so, so, so much worse.

He thinks it feels bad now. He doesn’t have a clue. I watched a person who was supposed to be my world walk out of my life and not return. I spent so many nights wishing and hoping for my father to come back, to pick me over the new family he created. I won’t risk that agony again. I can’t go through that with my best friend, not when it would undeniably ruin us.

“Your promotion is changing everything, Mason,” I say quietly. “It should mean something to you.”

A swirl of butterflies ignites in my belly when he rests his hands on my cheeks again. His dark green irises burn into my hazel laden eyes. “You mean something to me.”

I bring my hands to his arms and draw them down. Upset, he follows my direction, then turns on his heel and walks over to the window. He grips the tension at the back of his neck and cranes his neck from side to side.

He spins back around with a determined look in his eye, and catches me by surprise. “Move to Austin with me.”

30

Mason

“Mason, I can’t move to Austin with you.”

“Why the hell not?”

My heart is in my throat. It thuds against me, the uncomfortable sound vibrating in my ears. My hands clench into fists, trying to grasp onto something—anything—but all they get is air. As I wait for her to answer, they shoot to the back of my neck, pulling at the long strands of hair at my nape. My fingers are restless, and why the hell isn’t she answering me?

“Because…” She paces, moving back and forth behind the leather couch in the living space.

I wasn’t expecting her to pull this on me. After years of knowing Mackenzie, I’m privy to how she works. She’s quick to put up a wall the second things get serious. It’s all thanks to her father. Hell, I’m not even sure you can call him that. He’s a deadbeat for handling that situation the way he did. He scared her in ways that are bleeding into my relationship with her. Into the relationship and life I want to build with her.

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