Page 52 of Fun and Games
Mason hoisted himself from the floor and wiped his fur-and-slobber covered hands on his jeans.
"This was an awesome idea." He came over and pressed a kiss to my cheek. "Thanks for bringing me here."
"I thought you'd enjoy it," I said. "I read about it online, and when I saw they allow visitors to volunteer and come play with the puppies on certain days, I figured it would be a fun adventure for us. We didn't exactly get to pet the animals on the safari."
"I doubt the hippos would have been as friendly as these little guys," Mason said. "They would probably have eaten us, isn't that what you told me?"
Mason and I took a seat on a couple of chairs near the feeding station and watched the puppies wag their tails vigorously as they snarfed down their food. The play area was mostly dedicated to puppy toys and furniture for animals, but it did have some seating for the humans who came to visit.
"I suppose I could have just invited you along to another one of my dog-walking jobs," I said, "but I thought you might like this even more."
"I do," Mason agreed. "I just want to take all of these little guys home with me."
"They do adoptions," I said. "You could ask one of the staff members if you're seriously interested."
Mason's face lit up, but he still looked hesitant. He liked the idea, but wasn't sure.
"You don't travel much anymore," I continued. "You'd be home to take care of an animal. And they're great company. Animals help lower stress in their humans."
Mason let out a quick laugh.
"You sound just like me as a kid," he said. "That's the same argument I always used on my…" he trailed off, a storm cloud rolling over his eyes.
I watched his good mood fade. I remembered the last time we'd talked about this. I'd seen that same stormy look before. Mason had said his parents never let him get a dog growing up.
I placed a hand on his knee.
"Your parents can't say no anymore," I said.
Pain flashed across his face before he smoothed out his expression, and I knew I was on to something. Something to do with his parents. It wasn't just about them not allowing him to have a pet. There was more to it than that. The pain and regret in his eyes was something I'd seen too often myself, reflected back at me whenever I looked in a mirror.
"Whatever reasons your parents had for saying no," I said with a gentle rub on his knee, "they don't apply anymore."
Mason leaned over and put his elbows on his knees, bowing forward.
"It's not that," he said. "Yeah, I would have loved a dog, but it's not the end of the world. It's just—" He cut himself off, chestnut hair falling over his eyes and obscuring them.
"If you want to talk about it, whatever it is, I'll listen," I told him.
"I don't like talking about my parents," he said. "I don't like thinking about my parents." Mason let out a heavy breath through his nose. "Besides, I'm over it. I moved out the second I could and never looked back."
"I can understand that," I said. "There are things I don't like talking about. Looking back on the past can hurt. Sometimes it's easier to look forward."
"Right," he nodded shortly.
"But bottling things up and running away isn't good, either," I continued. "Trust me, I know."
Mason lifted his head long enough to side-eye me.
"And what are you running from?" he asked.
My heart stuttered. Now it was my turn to look away.
I wasn't running from anything. I was living life. Having new experiences. I was doing exactly what David would have wanted me to do.
I wasn't running.
"I'm just saying, if you want to talk, I'm here," I said, deflecting the conversation away from me and back to him. "Sometimes all you need is someone to listen. You said you don't like talking about your parents. I'm not going to force you to. But seeing you flinch every time the subject comes up makes me think you're not as over it as you think you are."
