Page 194 of Mason

Not final. Not fixed.

Butpossible.

“Do you think we’ll… be okay?” she asks.

I don’t answer with words.

I reach for her hand, slowly, deliberately, and curl my fingers around hers.

“We’ll be more than okay, Shelby,” I say quietly.

Her eyes flutter shut, and when she opens them again, she looks like she’s finally breathing for the first time in months.

I kiss her temple.

Soft.

Long.

A promise without pressure.

Then I walk her to the couch, let her curl into me beneath the weight of a blanket and the kind of silence that isn’t empty—it’s full of everything we’re rebuilding.

She falls asleep with her hand on my chest.

I stay awake.

Counting the seconds.

Marking the moment.

And wondering, for the first time in a long time, what a future looks like with her beside me.

Because she’s not the same girl who left.

And I’m not the same man who watched her go.

But whatever this is?

It’s ours. It’s something to fight for.

And this time?

We’re not letting go.

I wakeup with Shelby still tucked against my chest. Her breathing is slow. Peaceful. Her fingers rest lightly against my side, like she’s afraid she might crush this moment if she holds on too tight. She’s still here. Still real.

I barely slept. Didn’t need to. Just having her in my arms was enough to keep the demons at bay.

The morning light spills through the windows in long streaks of gold, and for the first time in too long, it doesn’t feel like a spotlight on everything I’ve lost. It feels like a beginning.

She stirs as I brush my fingers through her hair. “Morning,” she murmurs, voice low and sleep-rough.

“Morning, princess.”

She smiles against my chest, and my heart does something I’m not sure it’s done in years—it aches in a good way.

I’m about to ask if she’s hungry when the front door flies open like it’s being kicked in by a SWAT team.

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