Page 117 of Relapse
“Because he’s your father. He loves you.” Why couldn’t he see that?
When he dropped his eyes down to me, I could feel the anger burning in Mason’s glare. “He’s not my father.”
It killed me to see him like this. I couldn’t fix the damage I did, but maybe I could help him see the light in this situation.
“I don’t hear you saying the same things to Maggie,” I pointed out. “She’s not your biological sister, and you still love her.”
Anyone who spent half a second with that little girl would know that. She spent most of our tea party talking up her big brother.
“I never said I didn’t love him. I’m just…” Mason huffed out a heavy breath. “Mad at him.”
My brow rose. “Does he know that?”
He stopped and narrowed his eyes. “Why do you care?”
Because I care about you.
As much as I wanted to tell him that, I couldn’t. So I hung my head instead. “Not all kids have good parents.”
“Yeah, well.” Mason pulled me up the stairs that led to his room. “Maybe if they told someone about it, their life would get better.”
My mind screamed to tell him, but my mouth wouldn’t work. The only thing I could do was chew on my lips as we walked down the hall. I’d never been more nervous than I was when he unlocked his bedroom door. My pulse was beating so fast, I thought he could hear it.
“Don’t look so scared, Freckles,” Mason smirked and pushed me in the room. “I’m not going to do anything to you that I haven’t done before.”
The bright red scratch marks on his cheek caused my hands to wring. I did that to him. I marked his beautiful skin with my anger, just like I marked his soul with my lie.
Mason locked the door then turned around and demanded, “Strip.”
Neither of us expected what came out of my mouth.
“He killed my mother.”
God it felt good to say that.
Part of me expected Mason to push me for more. But all he did was cross his arms and arch a brow.
“Okay.”
I was officially confused. “You’re not going to ask for more?”
“Would you give it to me?”
Yes.
No.
“Maybe?”
Mason rolled his eyes and sauntered across the room. “I’m tired of trying to pry information out of you, Harper.”
Wasn’t this what he wanted? Was I too late? Had he already written me off completely? I watched him sit down on the bed and take his shoes off. No. He wouldn’t have looked at me the way he did if he’d given up, right? I had to try.
Taking a step forward, I swallowed down my nerves and asked, “Do you remember the day I was supposed to meet you at the beach?”
“Kinda hard to forget the day the love of your life stood you up because she was in the hospital.” Mason reached back and pulled his shirt off. “Especially when she said you put her there.”
Ouch. If someone could be sucker punched by a statement, I just was. Was this a good idea? When I told him, would he hate me more?
