Page 129 of Mason

An open marriage. Three people, one bed.

No regrets.

At least, not at the time.

Now, though? Now, I see it for what it was.

Because in the end, they had each other.

And I had nothing.

They’re both gone now.

And what’s left?

Me. Mia’s real father.

A truth I kept from her for too fucking long.

A truth I should have told her the second she was old enough to understand.

It wasn’t fair.

And it’s not fair now.

I glance at Mia, sitting across the room, her arms wrapped around herself, watching me with careful eyes.

She knows.

Maybe she’s always known.

Maybe she’s just been waiting for me to be man enough to admit it.

And I will.

I have to.

Because I don’t have forever.

None of us do.

I turn back to Shelby, brushing my thumb over the back of her battered hand.

I’d sell my fucking soul to whoever’s listening if it means she wakes up.

I don’t pray. I never have.

But I do tonight.

I keepmy eyes on Shelby, my fingers light but steady where they rest against the back of her hand.

I don’t even realize Mia’s beside me until she bumps my shoulder.

It’s light—barely a touch, barely any pressure at all. But after the last twenty-four hours, after all the rage and blood and fucking helplessness, it’s enough to feel like an anchor.

I huff out a breath, running a hand down my face. “You’re still here?”

Mia smirks, arms crossed. “You’re one to talk. Have you even moved from that chair?”

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