Page 60 of What are the Chances

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The ride back to Mason’s was faster than I was prepared for. My heart thunders in my chest as I exit the Uber and stand in front of his house. I want Mason in my life. I want him in my future and to help me move on from my past. I cling to everything I know I love about him as I walk to his door. Before I’m even able to knock, it swings open, revealing an exhausted Mason.

His red hair is disheveled and matted on one side. His eyes are red and dark bags lie underneath them. His green eyes search my face frantically before he takes two steps forward and wraps me in his long arms.

Crushing me to his chest, I can feel his firm jaw resting on top of my head. I close my eyes and hold back the urge to cry as I inhale his cedar scent, the smell that laces my memories and holds all the things I want in my future. A warning bell shoots off in my head as the events from yesterday come crashing back to me. I take a step back, forcing him to let me go. His eyes narrow, making him look worried.

“You’re back,” Mason says softly like he doesn’t want to scare me away.

I nod, wetting my dry lips. “We need to talk.”

His lips form a firm line as he nods in agreement, a look of concern not leaving his face for a second. He turns and heads toward the garden, and I take a tentative step forward and follow him.

Mason sits under the tree I have favored over the last several days. He’s in wrinkled jeans that straighten as his legs bend, and his black t-shirt stretches as he leans forward. He must have gotten as much sleep last night as I did. Without his arms around me, I couldn’t nod off. At some point, my emotional turmoil wasn’t even an issue, just missing the warmth and security from him. I move closer and bring my legs under me as I crouch next to him.

I let out a heavy sigh and grab for Mason’s hand. We need to be touching for this conversation. I need to touch him and know I still have him.

“Mason, I need you to know why I was so hurt over the picture thing.” I swallow thickly and start in, not looking at his face. I tug his hand until it rests over my heart.

“Okay,” he whispers. I can tell he’s giving me the floor to tell him everything I couldn’t yesterday.

“I felt guilty, Mase. Horrible for kissing you while I was still with Kyle. Then when I did break up with him, it wasn’t good enough for you. You said things that tore me open and made me feel like a cheater, like a horrible human—all the while knowing he cheated again. You could have shown me, you could have given me the freedom to fall for you in peace, rather than shame.” I push my eyes closed as a few tears slip free.

“Mason, you chose to keep that secret between us and still chose to tear me down for kissing you when you could have easily liberated us both. That hurts on so many levels. You’ve been cheated on before, you know how much it hurts to be lied to.”

I open my eyes to find Mason’s red eyes brim with tears. He looks away, swiping his large hand over them quickly.

“Dammit Char, I’m so fucking sorry. I thought…” He trails off, tipping his head back, looking at the sky. He tugs his hand free and uses it to run his fingers through his hair. The wind shifts and caresses us with warmth, stirring the leaves above us. I can hear nothing else as the trees respond to the current of air.

“I thought this was about Kyle cheating on you… and you being hurt he did it again.” Mason slowly turns his gaze until its locked on me.

“This has nothing to do with Kyle. Nothing at all, Mase. This is about how guilty you allowed me to feel, knowing the entire time my boyfriend had already ended our relationship by cheating.” My voice is softer than I want it to be. I want to be loud and roar through his misunderstandings, but my heart feels weak, exhausted.

“I don’t know what to say to that, Char. I was just doing what Sam asked,” Mason softly justifies.

I nod, understanding what he’s trying to do but frustrated just the same.

“Sam wanted to tell me when he knew I’d be around someone who cared for me…” I trail off, hating that my mind is going down the dusty, ugly road of self-deprecation.

Mason gets where I’m emotionally headed and rushes to correct it.

“No, Char. Fucking don’t do that. I cared for you, I care for you… fuck, I’m in love with you. I just didn’t know how to show it.” Mason looks frantic, his entire body turned toward me, his hands at my waist.

“Charlotte, let me fix this. I have to fix this because you belong with me, I feel it here.” Mason presses his head to mine and places my hand over his heart.

“I love you Charlotte, I will never, ever keep anything from you again. I swear,” he whispers, then brushes a soft kiss across my lips. My heart leaps and begs for more kisses, more confessions, for wild abandon with him, but my pride has me pulling back.

Mason’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, and the look is too much. My heart can’t handle losing him, so I push forward and press my lips to his, just as we hear...

“What the fuck is this?” Cuts through the air from the back door.

Mason and I quickly turn our heads at the interruption.

Blonde hair styled nicely with his tan face and square jaw, his sharp, furious blue eyes glare dangerously at Mason and where his hands are on my hips.

I look between Mason and the oddly timed interruption and stand to my feet.

“Kyle? What are you doing here?” I ask, moving forward, curious why my ex is here in Ireland, seething and clenching his fists.

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