Page 100 of Fun and Games
"Thanks for the help," I told him.
He nodded and ran a nervous hand through his hair, pushing the strands away from his forehead and revealing his brilliant green eyes. My heart ached a little. Those eyes were so familiar to me now. I'd seen every emotion swirling inside them. Even the bad ones. Even the ones I wished I hadn't.
Those eyes were now wide and distressed as he stared at me.
"Bree—" he started, then stopped.
I readied myself for whatever came next.
"Please don't go," he blurted.
I blinked.
"I know you never stay in one place longer than a few months," Mason continued in a frenzied rush. "And I know you don't want to be tied down. And I know I don't deserve it. But please." His eyes begged, pleaded, for mercy. "Don't go. Stay."
I didn't know how to respond. I took a moment to gather myself, and he must have taken it as a bad sign.
"Stay," he repeated, softer this time, not as frenzied but no less insistent. His arm twitched, reaching forward as if to take my hand, but he held back. "Don't move away. Stay here. Stay—" He swallowed visibly. "Stay with me."
"I took the job," I said.
His lips parted silently.
"My boss officially offered me a permanent position," I told him. "I said yes. I signed the contract."
A glimmer of hope began to simmer in his eyes. Then his brows drew down, confused, as he scanned all my moving boxes.
"I found an apartment closer to work," I told him. "My sublet lease was running out, anyway."
"So you're not moving away?" he asked as that spark of hope flamed even higher.
"Well, I won't be as close to Sin and Tonic and our usual dog park," I said. "But no, I'm not leaving town. I'm staying."
His relief was so palpable I half-expected it to send him staggering back.
"Were you worried I was leaving?" I asked.
"I read your blog post," he said. "All that stuff you said about leaving the past behind and moving on—" He brought a hand to his jaw and rubbed at the stubble. "I thought you were being literal. I was afraid you were leaving for good."
"No," I said. "I'm not leaving."
"Thank fuck," he mumbled under his breath. "Bree, I was so worried, I was so afraid I was going to show up to find you gone. I was so afraid I'd never have a chance to—" He faltered.
"If you're trying to apologize…" I started.
He shook his head.
"No," he said. "I mean, yes, I need to apologize. What I said to you was shitty. I was so hurt all I wanted to do was lash out. And that was wrong of me."
"You really hurt me when you lashed out," I said. "I don't want you to do that again. But I understand. You had a reason. I know exactly what it looked like. And you weren't exactly wrong. I have been clinging to the past."
"That doesn't matter," he said.
"It does matter," I countered. "I should have tried to deal with my feelings long before now. And I shouldn't have dragged you into the middle of it. I'm sorry."
"I'm the one who's sorry," he said. "The way I reacted was awful. All I could think about was how maybe you didn't care about me at all. That you were just using me like all the others. I was hurt and—" He paused to blow out a breath and run a hand over his face. "That doesn't excuse anything, I know."
He looked so miserable, so forlorn. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his chest. He tentatively put his hands on my hips and buried his face in my hair.
