Page 151 of Promise Me Not

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 stillhere, 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 Iam. 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.”

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