Loving Mason (Imperfect Love Book 2)

by Molloy, Ruby

  Jack leaves at midnight. He’s near enough emptied my fridge of beer. Something’s definitely troubling him, but until he talks there’s nothing I can do. I climb into bed, checking my phone before I turn out the light. There are no messages from Frankie, but then again I’m not expecting any. She waits on me to text first. Always. It’s fucking annoying. I want her to text me. I want to pick up my phone and find a message from her. I want her to surprise me. So instead of texting her, I shut down my phone.

  I don’t sleep well. My dreams are a mixed up mess of reality and FIFA. Frankie is in goal and I can’t get the ball past her. Every damn time I shoot she dives and lands on the ball, laughing and tossing it down the pitch. In the end I tackle her to the ground and fuck her. It’s not violent or voyeuristic. It’s just the two of us and Frankie wants it as much as I do. But still, I know the dream is significant. I’m just not sure what it means.

  At half six when I know I’m not going to get back to sleep I spend some time in my study.

  Josh wakes at seven and I make him breakfast. It’s simple enough, just a bowlful of fibre with a topping of chopped fruit. Job done.

  I’m a fucking great father.

  I sit opposite him and ask about school and his best friend, Toby, who looks a little like Josh, except he’s smaller in height and a little wider in the stomach. He lives in the same street and goes to the same school and clubs. He’s also he’s partially-sighted and therefore needs a little help from time to time. Josh understands not to give that help unless Toby asks.

  Breakfast out of the way, we go for a swim in the pool next door. It’s in my local gym and there’s hardly anyone around. Josh loves it. We break the rules by swimming widths instead of lanes but, shit, he’s six and he can’t yet swim a full length, so fuck the rules. I take him for a burger afterwards, knowing it’s almost time to take him home.

  I hate it.

  Watching him pack his overnight bag, tidying his room so it’s ready for the next time he visits, knowing that won’t be for a few weeks. I used to buy him presents every visit, until Carolyn pointed out this was a sure-fire way of spoiling him and I was only doing it out of a sense of guilt. Now I limit presents to birthdays, Christmas and a football shirt once or twice a season. Carolyn and Dean refuse any financial help. I get that, but knowing their income is tight, football shirts are my small way of helping.

  I buckle Josh into his car seat and climb behind the wheel. I can see in the rear-view that he’s already engrossed in his book. Out on the road, stuck in traffic, I take the opportunity to call Frankie.

  “Want to meet for a coffee this afternoon?” I ask.

  “You’re in Morton?” She sounds happy. Excited almost.

  “I will be. Fancy meeting up somewhere?”

  “Sure. We could meet at Joe’s Place, if you like?”

  “Joe’s is good. I’ll see you there at three.”

  Warmth pools in my stomach and endorphins flood my system. This is what she does to me. I’m getting in deeper, letting her in. Last weekend ... shit, that was a game changer. Seeing her lying there at the bottom of the stairs, feeling that pain rip through my chest. There was no way back from that. And later, on the sofa, when she took me in her mouth.

  Shit!

  My hands curl around the wheel and I try to move my thoughts on, but they’re caught up on that image and it’s fucking inappropriate. I turn on the radio, searching for Radio Three. That’ll put a dampener on my semi. Sure enough it works and I’m back in control.

  Carolyn is waiting on the drive when I pull up. Hers is the furthest house from the turning and she can see me approaching from her kitchen window. Dean joins her and they’re opening Josh’s door before I can climb out.

  Carolyn is hugging him, her dark hair spilling over his head, and Dean has his overnight bag.

  “Everything alright?” he asks, same as he always does.

  “Yeah, everything’s good. We went for a cycle ride yesterday and swimming this morning.”

  I know what he’s going to say before he says it. “Should sleep well, then” he says.

  “Yeah,” I say, like I haven’t heard him say this a hundred times. I like the guy, really, I do. It’s just this handing over part. I fucking hate it.

  “You want to come in?” This comes from Carolyn. She smiles, but I don’t have one in return. In the end, I make my excuses, ruffle Josh’s hair one last time, and climb back into the SUV. I can see Josh in my rearview mirror, waving, watching me drive away. Five minutes from now his head will be filled with ninja turtles and his best friend, Toby, but at this precise moment he’s thinking about me.

  Morton’s Sunday afternoon traffic doesn’t help my mood. Everyone’s doing their last minute shopping before closing time. It takes a while to find a parking space near Joe’s Place and when I finally arrive I’m late and pissed off. Frankie’s texting on her phone, oblivious to my presence. I think about kissing her, but pass. The kind of kiss I want to give is not a Sunday afternoon kiss, it’s more of a midnight, fucking in my bed kind of kiss.

  She puts her phone on the table, face down, her cheeks flushed, her grey eyes vivid.

  “Hi,” I say. She jumps. Another time, another day I’d find it funny. But not today.

  “Hey,” she says, smiling.

  She’s got a coffee lined up in front of her but I ask anyway. “Can I get you a drink or something?”

  She shakes her head and I make my way over to the till. There’s a queue, which means another ten minutes before I can be with Frankie, like we don’t spend enough time apart already. I haven’t had a chance to call her this week. Work’s been crazy and having Josh this weekend didn’t help. Neither does the fact that she still hasn’t reached the point where she’ll call me, uninvited.

  Once I have my coffee, I make my way back to the table and slide into the booth. She’s fidgeting with the plastic stirrer, tapping it against the table in an irregular rhythm. “You good?” I ask. I mean, she looks good, she always looks good, but she seems a little wired today.

  “Yeah, I’m good.” And that’s all she says. She glances around the cafe, distracted, her gaze unfocused.

  “If you’re so good why won’t you look at me?”

  She meets my eyes for a second, maybe two, before her gaze is skipping away again, taking in everything but me.

  “Frankie, what’s going on?”

  “It’s Sid,” she says.

  My head tips back and suddenly I’m scared shitless of what she might say next. Of course I don’t let her see this. I watch through narrowed eyes, outwardly calm, as she continues.

  “He texted me a few minutes ago, asking where I was. I didn’t think anything of it and I told him, thinking he was still in the States. But he’s here, in Morton, and he’s on his way.”

  “You’ve been texting each other?”

  Her eyebrows draw together at my hostile question. “Not since the night you and I ...” She trails off, unable to say it.

  “Fucked. Is that the word you’re looking for?”

  Her grey eyes harden and she wraps her unzipped hoodie around her middle. “No, it’s not, but it tells me something that you chose that word.”

  “You think? What word would you have chosen?”

  “Not that one!”

  “What, you think you make love to someone you only just met?”

  “No, what I think is that you’re deliberately trying to rile me. I’m being honest here, telling you about Sid who, by the way, is going to be here any second and you’re acting like a jerk!”

  “If you hadn’t texted your ex we wouldn’t be in this fucking situation.”

  “You wanna say fuck one more time? I don’t think the table over there heard you!”

  I can’t help glancing in the direction she’s looking and sure enough several heads are turned our way. I heave out a sigh and ease my butt forward so that I’m sitting lower. “It’s been a shit day.”

  “Because of Josh?”

  I s
cowl. “No, not because of Josh! We had a great time. I love seeing him. It’s the leaving part that’s shit.”

  She frowns, not understanding, and why would she? She doesn’t know the true story, doesn’t know what it feels like seeing your son being brought up by your sister and her husband. I think about telling her the truth. I know I can trust her, but outside of family and friends, no-one knows.

  I don’t get to make this decision because a guy strolls over and sits beside Frankie as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t give me a look-in, it’s Frankie who holds his attention.

  “Sid! Oh my God, Sid!”

  The boyfriend. Shit, no, ex-boyfriend!

  She hugs him.

  There’s a lot to hug. He’s big, his large frame softened by a layer of fat that’s not deep enough to detract from his looks. Seated next to Frankie, he’s a giant. They’re sitting close – too close – his beefy arm pressed up against her small frame. It’s way too intimate and I can’t stop staring at where they’re touching. Frankie notices and squirms. He on the other hand looks at ease, as if this is a family dinner and he’s just another face at the table.

  I don’t want to come off as a jerk, but that’s not what’s stopping me from hauling him from the booth and landing a punch on him. What’s stopping me is the fact that Frankie doesn’t look overjoyed to see him either.

  “What are you doing here, Sid? I thought you were in the States for another month.” Her face is pink, though I’m not sure if it’s the result of anger or embarrassment.

  “I’m only here for a couple of weeks until my Visa is renewed and then I’m heading back.”

  “Well, it’s good to see you, Sid. This is my, uh ... friend, Mason.” She sends a troubled glance my way, while I do my best not to land a punch on her dickhead ex-boyfriend.

  “Friend, huh? That mean you’re still single?” He’s too stupid to notice our silent reactions. Frankie withdraws into herself and, Christ, if I was pissed off before, I’m fucking off the wall now. Who does this fucker think he is? He turns his attention to me and I stare right back, wishing he’d get the message and piss off. “I know you,” he says, a vindictive sneer twisting his big mouth.

  “Yeah?” I’m bored now I know how this is going to go.

  “Mason Zannuto. You got sent down for what, two, three years?”

  “Two,” I say, watching as Frankie fidgets in her seat. The faint shaking of her body tells me her legs are bouncing up and down beneath the table. When I have her attention, I say, “You okay?”

  She nods, about to say something, but her dickhead ex is still talking, only this time he’s addressing Frankie. “Holy shit, Frankie, you didn’t say it was Zannuto. What the hell are you doing? Going from me to a fucking ex-con?”

  I could lay him out cold with a single punch, splatter his nose across his face.

  “Sid, why are you doing this? Mason’s not an ex-con.”

  “Sure he is. You just heard him admit―”

  “I meant he’s not an ex-con, as in that’s not who he is.”

  “What do you doing now, Zannuto?” he asks, sounding out my surname like an expletive.

  I don’t answer. He’s already made up his mind that I’m a waste of space and I don’t need to feed my ego by giving him the truth.

  He smirks at my silence. “You work here, is that it? You on your lunch break?”

  I think Frankie might punch him before I do. I still her hand with mine, gently curling my fingers over her white knuckles. When she’s calm enough for me to take my eyes off her, I pin my gaze on the fucker, scrutinising his pink shirt and thick, round neck. “Yeah, that’s right, I work here. I’ve only got five minutes ‘til I’m back waiting tables, so how about you fuck off and give us some alone time?”

  Frankie’s mouth tilts into a small grin. “You shouldn’t have come here, Sid,” she says.

  “An ex-fucking-con, Frankie? That’s what gets your juices flowing?”

  I roll to my feet, ready to take him down. He spares me an aggressive glance, though he’s still running off at the mouth. “Relax, Zannuto, I’m going.” Placing his hands on the table, he pushes to his feet and addresses Frankie again. “When you’ve had enough of him, give me a call. We had something good, Frankie, and I don’t know what you’ve got going with this guy, but you’re better than this.”

  He hurries to the door, sparing a glance over his shoulder to check I’m not one step behind. I wait for the door to close before I sit back down. “That piece of shit is your ex?”

  “That’s Sid, though I haven’t seen him like that before. Must be the Zannuto charm that got him worked up.”

  “He’s a dick!”

  “He’s usually a good guy. I guess he’s worried about me.”

  “He wants you back.”

  She smiles, her foot tangling with mine beneath the table. I notice she doesn’t deny my comment.

  “How long before you have to get back to your studying?”

  “An hour, maybe two. Why?”

  “I was thinking we could go back to yours.”

  “To fuck?”

  I think we’re both shocked by her outburst. It’s not just that she said fuck. There was a whole heap of disdain in there too.

  “Sorry,” she says.

  “Forget it. We’ll go for a walk or something.”

  “Mason―”

  “I said forget it. It’s okay.”

  We walk through Morton’s one and only park. I don’t know what’s going on with Frankie, but I can feel her tension. The park is virtually empty, save for the occasional lone cyclist. The wind’s too strong, howling and whipping up debris from the ground, taking it someplace else. I want to hold her hand but she has them firmly planted in her pockets, as if they’re out of bounds for today. In the end I pull her under the shelter of a tree, positioning us out of the wind. I run my fingers through her hair, bending so that my mouth lines up with hers. I kiss her too hard and her fingers tug at my quiff, pulling me away.

  She stares at me for several seconds and I know she sees the hunger because I can feel it buzzing through my veins like water on electric cables. But there’s a problem, because mixed in with the hunger is need and I think she might be able to see that too.

  She releases my hair and it falls over my eyes. I guess she likes the effect because her pupils dilate and she stands on tip toe so our lips meet. This time I’m more gentle. I take it slow, but the heat is still there, tightening my balls and bruising my heart.

  ♥ FOURTEEN ♥

  Porn-Star T-shirt

  Frankie

  Being in love with Mason sucks.

  With Sid, it was warm and gooey, a little like sipping hot chocolate and marshmallows on a cold winter’s night. Or wearing your favourite PJs, the ones you will never, ever throw out, no matter how faded or raggedy they become. Loving Mason does not feel like this. Loving Mason feels like riding a bicycle with your hands tucked behind your back, air whistling in your ears, eyes watering, heart pounding, and a huge grin splitting your face. All of this, combined with studying, the lack of progress by the Police in finding my mum, and Josephine’s escalating bitchiness, means I am just about holding my life together.

  Lucky for me, Cooper and Carred are currently touring the States with DMGD, which means Nora and Ella are on a man-break. They get to hear me talk about Mason and in return they get the opportunity to tell me to shut up and stop worrying. Tonight we’re having a girls’ night in. Nora is fixing chilli, Kayla has brought along a New York cheesecake, and Ella has provided the wine. Me, I’m kind of skint, so I’m enjoying everyone else’s contribution on the proviso that next time I make dinner. I’m not sure they’ve thought this through. Everyone knows I can’t cook.

  Curled up on the sofa, I can feel my stomach groaning because I somehow missed lunch and I might possibly have done the same with breakfast. It’s been one of those days, starting with me rushing to get out the door at eight to walk old Mrs Benson’s dog before
it peed on her carpet. I only get a few pounds in payment, but this is magnified by the cash from Mrs Benson’s sister, Trisha, who has me to walk Scruff, and lovely Mr Braithwaite with the stammer, who likes me to walk Benji once every Tuesday when he works late. These walks allow me to cover the cost of petrol when I visit Mason, but only if I don’t use Myrtle for uni. That’s a three mile walk, which for my short legs equates to approximately one hour time-wise and with the journey home too, this is two hours I can’t spare. Only by cutting back on sleep am I able to make up my time and for the most part I am tired, my days spent in a perpetual brain fog.

  Nora and Ella bring through the chilli and rice, and we sit with our bowls balanced on our crossed legs. Kayla is beginning to learn the art of dressing down. There’s no dress or heels tonight, only yoga pants and a black t-shirt.

  “Have you heard from Jono lately?” I ask.

  Kayla lowers her spoon into her bowl. “He’s met someone and he’s back on the weed.”

  “Shit, Kayla, I’m sorry.”

  She shakes her head and smiles but there’s sadness there too. “It’s okay. It just makes me realise I did the right thing in leaving him, plus it’s kind of taken the pressure off with the exams and everything. Now I can study when I want without Jono complaining he never gets to see me.”

  “Do you know who he’s seeing?”

  She gives a dainty snort. “Do I! It’s Melinda.”

  My mouth falls open.

  “She’s a friend of mine,” Kayla explains to Ella and Nora. “Apparently she had the hots for him while we were dating. Said she’d never have gone there, but now that Jono and I aren’t an item she doesn’t see a problem in asking him out. Got to hand it to her for being honest, but I think our friend-ship has sailed.”

  “Damn right,” says Nora, saluting her with a glass of wine.

  Ella is a little more eloquent. “Moving on so quickly, after what you guys had, that’s disrespectful. Don’t waste your time thinking about him, start thinking about yourself and what you want.”