I went back inside the apartment and stood in the entryway. My eyes were damp, my heart felt torn in two, my mind was in disbelief and I had no clue what my next step should be. How in the hell could I begin to fix this if Mason had no plans of letting me?
I set my phone on the table and stared at the lease. And to think that was my biggest fear only half an hour ago. I folded the papers and shoved them back into my purse. The tears I’d been choking back came trickling down my face. Just thinking about poor Mason and those texts tore me up.
Though I’d originally planned this to be a harmless little fling, I’d known early on that even if our lives did eventually move in two different directions, he never would have been another nameless Summer Boy. It had been—and always would be—the other way around. He defined this summer.
And maybe one day our relationship would fizzle out, but it was never supposed to end like this.
I dragged myself to the bedroom and yanked my suitcase out of the closet. Tomorrow was officially move-in day, and no time like the present to pack. I grabbed the clothes from the hangers and shoved them inside, then added the things I had in the drawers and in the bathroom.
After most of my belongings were packed, I checked my phone but still no word from him. My attempt to call him went straight to voicemail again, and my texts still went unanswered.
I guess this was the way I’d made him feel when we’d had our misunderstanding back in Port Lucia. It’d been shitty to not give him a chance to explain himself back then, and I don’t know how he survived so many days of my cold shoulder, yet still came back to me in the end. I don’t think I’d ever thanked him for that.
With nothing left to do but wait, I took a shower, got into pajamas then grabbed my favorite throw blanket from his bed and snuggled up on the couch. I could have called Isla and told her about what had happened, except I didn’t want to make her feel bad since it wasn’t her fault. And more than anything, I wasn’t ready to talk about it.
But that did get me wondering about the other things she’d said on the phone. I grabbed my laptop and did a quick search on anxiety disorder. The more I read, the more everything clicked into place. The checklist basically summed me up: Persistent and excessive worrying, fear of making decisions, fear of making the wrong decision, indecisiveness, trouble sleeping, fatigue, irritability, panic attacks—which after reading the description, I realized I was having—shit, even pacing was on the list. From what I read, maybe I did have a decent handle on it, but had I known this was going on, it could have explained so much. Maybe things with Brody triggered the onset, but Mason was the one who’d endured it. And he stuck through it all. My constant back and forth, my fears and insecurities. And in so many ways, he helped make it better. He never forced me to make a decision I wasn’t comfortable with; he let me do things on my time. He encouraged me and supported me. No wonder I loved the guy. Now would I ever get the chance to tell him?
With the TV volume down low—in hopes of hearing Mason’s key in the door—I wrapped myself in a blanket and tried to distract myself with a movie. But nothing could keep my emotions at bay. My eyes welled, the tears fell, I pulled it together then repeated, until finally the heaviness of sleep started pulling me under.
Chapter 29
Mason
I opened the door and found Felicity asleep on the couch, the TV on, volume down low. The door clicked behind me, but she didn’t stir. I stood for a moment watching her sleep. My head was everywhere, filled with questions and conflicted feelings.
On the one hand I was pissed and hurt. I felt used, betrayed, heartbroken. But on the other, she looked so damn fragile, all curled up and swallowed by the blanket. It was hard to believe my Felicity would use me like that. But that was the problem. My Felicity was the girl I wanted her to be. The girl I always tried to convince myself she was. Not the girl who’d fought this relationship every step of the way. Maybe I should have known better. That she’d never fully come around. I should have seen through her actions. Should have known when she agreed to live with me it wasn’t because she was committed to us. She’d been trying to figure out her future, and I was just a part of a bigger plan.
But I didn’t want to be a damn stepping-stone. I wanted to be the end point.
And I wasn’t ready to give her up.
I slipped my arms under her body and scooped her up. Her head pressed against my chest¸ and her eyelids fluttered but ultimately remained sealed. She nestled further into me, like she was crawling her way right into my chest. Into the gaping hole she’d created. I carried her down the hallway, and she finally roused.
“Mason?”
But I didn’t answer because hurt and anger somersaulted in my chest, and I wasn’t sure which one would win the battle waging within me. So instead, I stepped through my bedroom door, laid her on my bed and settled alongside her.
I threaded my fingers into the waves of hair I would miss so much. I ran my nose up one side of her face then kissed my way back down toward her jawline. But as my lips crossed her cheek, I discovered the remnants of salty tears.
I pulled back and turned her to face me. Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks too. “You’ve been crying.” And though it shouldn’t, it only made my heart ache more.
“We need to talk.”
Talk? Why? So she could remind me this was never permanent? Point out the fact I got too attached? That I’d dreamt of a future with someone who only guaranteed me one fucking day at a time? I shook my head because there was nothing to talk about. I was hurt because she’d used me, but I was angry at myself for falling for her.
I slammed my mouth into hers. Wanting to taste her just once more. To have one last night with her. She’d used me as a way out, and I’d use her as a means to forget. For just a little longer she’d be my Felicity.
I shifted my body over hers, gliding my hand up her smooth skin and under her shirt. But she pushed it back and broke the kiss.
“Mason, I know you’re mad.”
“I’m fucking pissed.” My lips dipped into the groove between her collarbone and neck, slowly making their way to the tender spot behind her ear that always drove her crazy.
Her head drifted back, but then she caught herself. “If you’re mad, why are you doing this?”
I jerked away and glared down at her. “Because this is what you want, right? A summer fling. Well, summer isn’t over yet. Might as well enjoy it until the end, don’t you think?” And the anger had won.
She shoved me back and scooted away from me. “Fuck you, Mason.”
I jumped up and stood alongside the bed, gave her my I-don’t-give-a-shit smirk and said, “You did.” The hurt was slowly creeping its way up, wanting to overtake the anger, but I refused to be weak in front of her. I glared at her. “Was that a part of the plan too?”
Her bottom lip trembled, and she quickly pressed her teeth into it to stop the quiver.
And though I wanted to comfort her, my own feelings helped steel me for just this moment.
“How many guys have you fed your sob story to before me? Huh? How many guys did you string along while trying to get your free ride out of that town?”
“Go to hell,” she croaked, looking more hurt than angry, though she tried to hide it.
But I wasn’t done yet. If anyone was hurt here, it was me, and she had no idea what that pain felt like. “You know, I wish I had fucked that girl that day. At least then I wouldn’t be in this situation.”
She scrambled off the bed and stormed to the door. “Yeah. Well, me too. Because then I wouldn’t be here either.” She paused. “You really don’t deserve to hear this, but I need to say it for my own sake. I may wish like hell that I’d never fallen for you, but you need to get one thing straight: You were never a fling.”
But…I shook my head. “I know what I read.”
“You saw a series of texts. You made an assumption. But we spoke on the phone between those texts. You don’t know shit.” She rushed out of my room, and I st
alked after her.
“Then why did Isla say I was a fling, huh? Your ticket out of that town?”
She swiped the back of her hand across her eyes and dug keys out of her bag. “Why does it matter? It’s not how I feel about you, and trying to explain it will probably only dig myself in deeper. I won’t get halfway through before you’re convinced you were right.”
“I want to know.” I stared at the ground, my words losing steam. “I need to know.”
She glanced over her shoulder, and my gaze lifted to meet hers in a last plea for the truth. Good or bad, I needed to hear it.
“Please,” I whispered.
With a sigh, she caved and turned toward me. “I never wanted to get tied down to Port Lucia. I had too much past in that town and needed a future somewhere far away from it. So I only dated guys who were there on vacation. Summer Boys, as Isla mentioned. They were fun. They didn’t want a commitment. It worked.”
Summer Boys? What the…“So I—”
Her gaze leveled on me, and I snapped my mouth shut, knowing if I didn’t keep quiet, she’d stop talking.
With a very pointed stare, she said, “Let’s clear one thing up now. When we first met, neither of us could’ve ever known we’d be here now. So don’t act like I was the only one who thought this would be casual.”
I tucked my hands in my pockets. She was right, and I had no argument. Hell, when I first met her I wanted to get her into bed more than I wanted into her head. But it didn’t take long to want both.
She continued. “Isla knew I wanted out of town and suggested using a Summer Boy as my ticket out. I told her I’d never do that to any guy, and the conversation was dropped. Then things got serious with you, and I started to freak out. Isla liked to tease me about it, always reminding me it was only supposed to be a summer romance. She knew just as well as I did that it wasn’t that simple.” She shifted, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Then today, when I got my apartment paperwork, I was sad over the thought of moving away from you. Isla and I talked on the phone. I told her how I felt about you, and she said I needed to tell you. I still wasn’t sure about things so she said she couldn’t know for sure how I felt about you, but she for sure knew three things you weren’t to me. You got home. I hung up quickly. She finished our conversation via text, which is what you read.”
A fling. A Summer Boy. Your ticket out of here. Three things I wasn’t. Oh, shit. That’s what she’d meant?
She took a deep breath then blurted the rest. “She followed it all up telling me to tell you everything I’d told her, and that’s it. That’s what you saw.”
“And what were you supposed to tell me?”
She scoffed and shook her head. “Nothing that matters now.”
She started toward the door again but I stepped in front, blocking the exit.
“What were you supposed to say?”
“Please move.”
Her glare was reason enough to do as she’d asked, but I held my ground. “Tell me and I will.”
She looked down, took a deep breath then stared me right in the eyes. “That I was in love with you.”
Holy shit.
“Now will you move?” Her words, her actions, her expression, all filled with contempt.
But I couldn’t wrap my head around what she’d just said. “You’re in love with me?”
She stared at me, looking completely incredulous. “Was, Mason. I thought I was…up until about fifteen minutes ago.”
I sank back against the door. “Fuck.” What had I done? I rubbed my hand over my mouth and down my chin. “I—I had no idea. And those texts, it’s what I’d always worried about spelled out in front of me…”
She crossed her arms. “So you thought I was using you? That I saw you as a fling? My ticket out of Port Lucia?”
“No.” I shook my head. “That’s not what I mean.” I raked my hand through my hair. “When I read those words, yeah, I thought that, but even before that I’d worried that this didn’t mean as much to you as it did me. That I was a rebound relationship. I didn’t want to be, and I hoped I wasn’t but there was this little fear nagging at me. I worried one day you’d realize you were capable of moving on, and you wouldn’t need me anymore. I’d just be the guy who helped you figure out that you deserved better. That you deserved more. That you were over your ex.”
“Don’t you get it? Before you came along, I thought Brody was the best. I had him on some kind of pedestal and felt responsible for his fall. I knew I’d never get another guy as good as him, and I deserved it after the problems I’d caused. But then you came along, and I realized I’d been all wrong. That I did deserve more. That there was something better…and that something was you.”
“Felicity…” I reached for her but she stepped back. “I’m sorry for all those things I said. They were hurtful, which is exactly why I said them. I wanted to hurt you because I was hurting, and fuck, I’m such an asshole.” What had I done? She fucking loved me…
She studied me, her expression softening the tiniest bit, then she stared at the ground. “Well, it worked. Now we’re both hurting.”
Leave it to Felicity to always lay it straight when it came to my actions.
With a sigh, she looked back up and gestured to the door. “I should go.”
“Please don’t,” I begged, moving toward her again.
But she shifted, and shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Where will you go?” I knew she had no place, but damn if she wasn’t stubborn.
“I’ll figure that out.”
She couldn’t be roaming the town alone at night. “You can have the room. I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s dark. It’s late. Just stay.”
“I can get a hotel.”
Oh, fuck, no. “No way. That’s not safe. I already hate myself over this shit. If anything happened to you tonight…” I reached for her hand, but thought better of it when she started to pull away. “Felicity, I’m begging you. Don’t go. Not tonight. If you still want to leave in the morning, I’ll personally load your car. But tonight, take my bed.”
“I can’t take your bed.”
I wanted to argue, but knew she was trying to control whatever little piece of the situation she could grasp, so instead I huffed, “Then take the damn couch.”
She seemed to think it over then finally said, “Fine.”
Thank God.
She dropped her purse onto the table and crossed her arms, her stance more protective than angry. “My blanket is in your room.”
“I’ll get it for you.” I glanced at the door, hoping she wouldn’t bolt the second I took off down the hall.
I grabbed a pillow and the blanket she’d had wrapped around herself earlier then turned. Tucked into the corner of my room was her suitcase. I yanked open her drawer and found it empty. My text. Crap. I’d sent it because I was pissed and wanted to hurt her as bad as she’d done me. But the second I hit send, I’d regretted it. Unfortunately, there was no way of getting something back once it’d been shot off into cyberspace.
Back in the living room, I found Felicity standing rigidly just where I’d left her. “I saw your suitcase.” Barely able to make eye contact with her, I offered an apology. “I’m sorry about my text.”
She stared at me, her forehead slowly creasing.
“I was mad, thought you’d used me…but none of that makes it right. It was a fucked-up thing to say. And I shouldn’t have.”
She blinked several times then reached into her purse and pulled out her phone.
She mouthed the words of my text as she read it: I want you out of my place. Pack your shit. Leave it by the door. I’ll get it in your car.
Her expression was a mixture of shock, hurt and anger. She finally looked up, her eyes glassy. “You were kicking me out?”
But…“I thought you saw…Your bags are packed.”
“Because I got my new place. Because we’d fought. Because I figured we needed space. But not because I thought I was being forced to l
eave.” She spun away and took several deep breaths. “You knew I had nowhere to go.” Her words trembled out on a whisper.
Dammit. I kept digging myself in deeper. “I was angry and being stupid. I wouldn’t have made you leave though.”
“But I wasn’t welcome here anymore.” With her back still to me, she shook her head. “You convinced me to do this. To move in. To be dependent on you. But at the first sign of distress, you abandon me?”
The truth behind her words stung. I’d done the very thing I’d promised never to do.
She turned to face me, and her voice wavered as she asked, “Who are you?” Her eyes were red, and it completely broke my heart to see her like that. “Because you sure as hell aren’t the guy I fell in love with.”
“Felicity, I was upset and lashing out. That’s a poor excuse, I know, but I regretted it the second I hit send.” God, what had I done? “Think about it. When I came home I didn’t tell you to leave. I took you with me to my room because no matter how mad I was, I needed you. I still need you.”
“What if I would have seen your text and left? If you regretted it, why didn’t you send another text? Why didn’t you immediately apologize?”
“Because I’m stupid. And prideful. And an asshole.” I sagged against the wall and scrubbed my hands over my face. My eyes started to burn, and I was losing it. I was losing her. I’d fucked this up beyond repair. “I came straight home the second I sent it to make sure you didn’t leave. When I didn’t see your stuff by the door I figured you knew I was just pissed and hadn’t meant it. But then I saw your suitcase…”
“This night is so beyond fucked-up.” She plopped down on the couch, looking totally spent. “I can’t do this anymore. I need…I need a break. From you. From this conversation. From everything.”
Just a Little Kiss Page 24
