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 CONTENTS

Synopsis

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38

Note From The Author

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 Copyright © 2024 by Meagan Brandy

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resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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 DEDICATION

To those living with the weight of regret, you are not alone.
For there is no life without lessons and no love without loss.
Be kind to yourself as the clouds shall clear.
This one is for you.

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 SYNOPSIS

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had one dream.

Go to college with my best friends, earn a starting position on a division
one team, and hear my name announced to the world come draft day.
The path was clear, and things were falling in place perfectly.
Until she showed up.
I never meant to fall for my friend’s little sister and by the time I realized I
had, it was too late.
I am a man in love with a girl … who is in love with someone else.
But I can’t compete with a ghost, and her heart was buried along side the
boy she gave it to. The father of her unborn son.
Instead of fighting for something she’s unable to give, I do my best to be
her friend. But then her little man comes along and changes everything.
She says I should walk away, focus on my love for football, but I can’t
because what she doesn’t understand is I have a new dream now.

One that begins and ends with them.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER ONE

PAYTON

N ow , J uly 2

D eaton cries , arching his back and kicking his feet all around ,
doing his absolute best to fight against the fresh onesie I’m sliding his arms
into, his third outfit change of the day. And mine.
“Okay, okay, little man.” I manage to get the two outside buttons done
and decide the middle one isn’t necessary. Tickling his tiny, sock-covered
feet, I grab ahold, wiggling them back and forth with a big smile to pretend
we’re playing a game. It works like a charm, and he stops flailing for half a
second, just long enough for me to quickly slide on his cotton shorts.
He screams then, his arms stretched out, fists opening and closing over
and over, making grabby hands to let me know he wants me to pick him
back up.
“One second, mister.” I turn to my own mess of a wardrobe in search of
another clean top, but my drawer is empty aside from the T-shirts I wear to
bed, and when I look in my closet, bare hangers stare back. That is, on the
side dedicated to the clothes that actually fit. My eyes fall to the clean
basket of laundry at the foot of the bed, and I sigh, reaching in and digging
around for the least wrinkled one. I still need to shower, so what’s the point
of worrying about ironing or, hell, matching.
Ironing. I scoff. Yeah right. The most I’ll take the time to do is throw the
entire load back in the dryer and hope it works out the mess I created by
tossing them carelessly into the basket in the first place.
“Well, mister man, looks like we’re officially adding laundry back to the
never-ending to-do list.”
Deaton cries harder, reminding me why it’s so important to keep him to
his normal routine no matter what’s going on outside of it.
“I know, I know. It’s my fault you missed your nap, and we’re all going
to pay for it.” I yank the shirt over my head, my lack of finesse causing it to
tug the bun I seem to be living in down with it, but I don’t bother to pull the
now loose strands out from under the thin cotton, let alone fix the damn
thing.
I scoop up the little boy who suddenly hates being put down for any and
every reason that doesn’t include water. Foolishly, I thought he’d grow
more independent with age, but it seems the opposite is true. Too bad I can
only give him so many baths a day to free up my hands, and even then, it’s
not to get anything done. It’s the ten-ish minutes of sitting on the tile floor
with zero responsibilities that make the fight to dry him off and put on his
diaper and clothes worth it.
Well, no responsibilities other than the ever-present fear I’ll mistakenly
look away for the split second it would take for him to twist and slip under
the water.
Yeah, baths aren’t all that relaxing, but the little smile when he splashes
water all over the place is better than any restful moment could be.
I bounce around the room, walking back and forth from one corner to
the next, but Deaton continues to fuss, rubbing his face in my chest and
playing with the curls of his hair.
“Are you tired, sweet boy?” I kiss his head, cradling him against me,
but my little man hates to miss a thing. The moment he recognizes the move
for what it is—my attempt to sway him until he’s sleeping—he lifts his little
head, blowing air between his lips and sending drool sliding down his chin.
“Oh, we’re blowing bubbles while we cry, huh?” I swiftly snag a bib
and snap it into place, not once pausing the bouncing of my body. My eyes
catch the clock and widen. “Shit.”
 My lips snap closed, and I sigh. I was supposed to be ready an hour ago.
Knowing what’s coming this evening, I suck it up and take a deep breath.
“It’s now or never, mister man.” Blanket flung over my shoulder and a
toy in my hand, I slide into a pair of flip-flops, doing what I told myself I
wouldn’t do today.
I head over to Lolli and Nate’s house next door.
Inside, I pause to listen, the bickering in the hall cluing me in on where
to go, and I throw the door open to Lolli’s office.
“Someone, for the love of hot coffee, help. Please.” The words leave me
before I fully take in the sight, and sadly, I don’t even have the energy to
gape. Or laugh.
Lolli, the girl terrified of marriage and most anything that has to do with
acknowledging feelings, though she is getting better at that, stands on a
stool in the center of the room wearing a giant, white wedding gown. Her
cousin and new roommate, Mia, kneels beside her with a needle and
measuring tape in her hand. Mia is lucky Lolli loves her and wants her new
business endeavor as a seamstress to work out, or Lolli would never be
caught dead in that gown.
My shoulders fall instantly. So much for sneaking away for five
minutes.
“Aw…” Lolli’s attention locks on Deaton, and she attempts to step
down, but Mia is quick to hold her still.
“Ha! Lolli, get real!” She shakes her head. “Baby puke is another big fat
no to be spilled on this dress,” she says, as if they’ve already had this
argument.
“Again, Mia, potentially. And you’re getting on my nerves now.” She
looks to me, an apology drawing lines to her forehead. “Sorry, she’s being
full drill sergeant.”
“It’s fine. I just…” I hesitate, deciding one truth is enough. “Really
wanted to shower before Nate’s parents get here. I hate looking like I suck
at life when they come.” Again.
I look out the large back window, watching as a few people run by on
their way to the ocean, and hope she doesn’t call me out for any other
potential reason my stress meter is clearly overflowing today. Thankfully,
she doesn’t.
“You don’t suck at life and know that Sarah and Ian would never
judge.” Kalani, or Lolli as we call her, reminds me of what I already know.
 If she ever decides to give in and let Nate marry her like he wants, she
will officially have one of the best sets of in-laws on the planet. Though I
have to say, they’re tied with another certain set of parents I know. Not
mine, of course. His.
I swallow, shaking away the thought.
“Bright side is they won’t be getting into town until around five,” Mia
adds with a grin.
“True!” Lolli agrees.
My brows snap together, and I decide they’re not joking. Seems I’m not
the only one time got away from today. “It’s five thirty.” I break the bad
news.
Lolli swings her glare to Mia, who laughs loudly, and I watch the two as
I move Deaton from one arm to the other, swinging slightly as he grows
more and more restless.
Fussy baby or not, I can’t help but smile as I listen to the two bicker like
sisters.
Lolli lets out a little growl. “I gotta get out of this before they get back
and⁠—”
“We’re back!”
Lolli cuts off at the sudden intruding voice, the shouted words coming
from the front of the house, and like being dipped in liquid nitrogen, we
freeze instantly.
My stomach drops to my feet, a cool sweat breaking out over my palms.
Oh god. No, no, no…
My eyes snap up, locking with the girls’. The panic whirling its way
through me is reflected on both their faces, none of our reactions related to
the reasons of the others’, but the reason for mine is secret. Not the best
kept one, but a secret nonetheless.
A soft thunk snaps us out of our stupor, and at once, we start moving.
Mia hurries to unzip Lolli while Lolli reaches up, yanking clips from
her long, dark hair.
I spin on my heels, doing everything I can to escape, my hand wrapping
around the handle of the door, fully prepared to race through the back side
of the house so no one sees me.
I’m not ready for this. I thought I could put on a brave face, but it turns
out I’m not brave. I feel sick at the mere thought, and I just…cannot.
I need a little more⁠—
 The door is shoved open from the other side, and I yelp, nearly
knocking myself off balance, but then my eyes snap up to the newcomer. I
swallow my tongue.
It’s as if cement is injected into my veins, every inch of me growing
heavy before turning to stone. My pulse pounds, then plummets as my eyes
lock on a pair of pensive brown ones so familiar, I could pick them out in a
lineup of hundreds.
My fingers curl into Deaton’s blanket, and I open my mouth, but
nothing comes out.
Those dark eyes narrow, searching, seeing.
Softening.
My stomach flips and twists, and I can’t tell if it’s unease or elation. Or
downright dread.
How can they still turn so tender when trained on me?
“What’s wrong?” His words are a low demand, and I want to scream
and cry at the same time.
“Nothing.” Everything. “Everything’s fine.”
“She needs help with Deaton,” Lolli says, calling me out.
“Lolli,” I hiss, my head snapping her way briefly. I try to stay focused
on her, but it’s too obvious, not to mention hard, so I slowly move them
back to the man before me.
And he is a man. I swear, every time I see him, there’s a little something
about him that’s changed. Sometimes it’s subtle, a shorter haircut than the
time before or a deeper tan than the one his olive skin keeps all year—a
result of the endless hours he puts in on the football field or natural, I
couldn’t say. Other times it’s more than that. His shoulders have grown
wider in the year since I met him, his jaw sharper. His hands…
I swallow, unable to break away from the choke hold of his gaze.
If there is one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s his eyes. The honey-brown
irises are as rich as ever, the perfect mix of dark and light, vivid yet grave.
A flawless illustration of his character.
Mason Johnson is as fierce as he is tender. He’s yin and yang.
And after nearly nine weeks of sudden silence, he’s standing before me
with an expression that threatens to break me down right here, right now.
He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t have to. The slight frown
blanketing his features says enough—he’s worried, frustrated.
Angry.
 It’s deeper than that, though. I can see it in his troubled gaze.
Did something happen? Did I do something wrong? Did you change
your mind…
Those are just a few of the questions he’s asking without opening his
mouth, none of which I want to answer right now. To be honest, I’m not so
sure I could.
Did something change? I ask myself, swallowing the needles that seem
to have appeared in my throat.
Still, angry or not, he’s as gentle as ever, shuffling closer, and I know
before he so much as lifts his arms, he’s going to reach for Deaton.
I hesitate, if only for a split second, but it’s long enough for him to
notice, and his lips press together more firmly than they already were. I
look away as I pass him my little boy and all but run from the room. In the
hall, I’m ready to go full sprint, but my feet don’t seem to get the message,
instead lingering in the hall, out of sight but not earshot.
Mason’s voice reaches me instantly, and I know by the lulling in his
tone, he’s swaying my son just as I was. “What’s wrong, little man, hmm?”
A sharp pain stings my chest, and I consider going in and taking him
back, but not a second after he speaks, what I couldn’t seem to do is done—
Deaton stops crying.
I drop my chin to my chest and speed-walk out of there, softly closing
the back door behind me so no one in the front of the house is alerted to my
escape. It’s bad enough I’m clearly going out of my way to avoid everyone
who has just arrived, but I can’t pause. Pausing will lead to too many
thoughts, none of which I’m prepared for right now. At all. In any fashion.
I walk quickly down the deck, across the twenty feet of sand, and back
up the deck of the house right next door. Yes, my older brother, Parker,
owns the home right next door to his best friend. When Lolli told him she
had purchased the home beside this one, it felt like a blessing I didn’t
deserve. It’s how he was able to offer me my own room—and his nephew a
nursery once he was born—after I ran away from our mother’s place.
It’s times like this, though, I wonder if I should have taken my dad’s
offer to move in with him, as out-of-left-field and awkward as the
conversation was, considering we hardly know each other these days. But
even as I think it, I know I made the right choice when I gave him the swift
and instant answer of a hard no way in hell. My refusal had nothing to do
with him on a personal level, though I’m not sure he believed me when I
told him so, considering I didn’t go into much more details outside of that.
If he knew me better, he would have never asked. He would understand
living with him would mean going back to Alrick, where my mother lives,
where the family that shares my son’s last name lives. The last thing I want
is my Deaton anywhere near those vile people. They hated their son as
much as much as my mother hates me.
Leaving that place was both the best and worst decision I have ever
made.
On one hand, my son will never be exposed to the toxicity that is Ava
Baylor. On the other, it is the very reason his daddy died.
I am the reason he’s dead.
Swallowing, I swiftly lock my bedroom door, dropping my head against
it. I no sooner close my eyes than hurried footsteps sound on the hardwood
floors in the hall. I hold my breath, the sound of his heavy exhales causing
my hand to clench the knob I’ve yet to let go of.
I know who’s on the other side. Of course he followed.
“Where you are is where I want to be…”
I squeeze my lids closed tight.
There’s the smallest of raps, as if he lifted his knuckles to knock, to
demand an answer or beg for a reason, but changed his mind at the last
second. My eyes open, pointed at the floor where the shadow of his shoes
sits just inches from my own, watching as it fades into nothing as he walks
away a moment later.
I grit my teeth, jump into the shower, and get myself together as quickly
as possible, which I’ve found is a lot faster than I ever would have thought
now that every minute is one I can no longer waste.
Smoothing my hair back, I take the front pieces and twist them slightly
to allow a small center part before tying it up into a high ponytail. I swiftly
braid the thick, wet strands, the long blond length still reaching to midback.
Using some wax, I smooth my baby hairs down to my skull, opting for a
quick bronzer, blush, mascara, and, at the last minute, a touch of lip gloss.
Nearly nothing I own fits, not that my mother sent all my belongings,
but the things she did box up are three sizes too small, even eight months
after birth. When I was emancipated last year, I was able to drain my bank
account before my mom got ahold of it, but she ignored the court’s order to
allow me to take my things. In the end, I found material items didn’t mean
enough anymore if it meant having to look her in the eye and ask for it. She
wasn’t worth the fight, and that is all she was after. A reaction. So I stopped
giving her the chance to get one.
The money I had saved from winning pageants she forced me to enter
and secret photography contests she knew nothing about was enough to get
the things I needed, but only because my brother refuses to accept a penny
for rent. Because of that, it should hold me over for another six months or
so, longer if Lolli and Parker keep going out of their way to buy things for
Deaton and me before I get the chance to do it myself. Not that I want them
to, but chances are they won’t.
My lack of clothing mixed with the added weight my body seems to
want to keep means I’ve basically been living in stretchy bottoms, loner T-
shirts, and lightweight hoodies for the better part of a year. Glancing at
myself in the long mirror beside my closet, I sigh at my reflection.
It’s a far cry from the girl I was when I first showed up on my brother’s
doorstep in two-hundred-dollar jeans and a purse that cost more than the
down payment on his new truck. I was a certified rich girl, shiny and
perfect on the outside, suffocating and starving on the inside—literally,
thanks to my mother’s need for her version of a trophy daughter. She would
let me eat so long as she saw me throw it up after. The only thing I was
allowed to keep down was whatever she handed me with the “vitamins” she
gave me each morning.
Nothing like an appetite suppressant and a handful of whole natural
almonds for breakfast, right, Mom?
Shaking off the thoughts that will do nothing but sour my mood further,
I look over my outfit—a sage-green skort and a loose-fitting vanilla,
neckless style sweater that hangs off the left shoulder, a matching tank
underneath to hide the giant straps of my nursing bra. The built-in shorts
suffocate my thighs, but the hem of the skirt mostly hides it, and the waist
comes up high enough to smash some of the curves into a hint of a shape.
I couldn’t fit into my old clothes if I starved myself for a year.
My hips are wider, my legs thicker, and every other part of me is right
there with it. My ass, breasts, and belly. Even my feet are larger, unable to
fit in several of the shoes gathering dust in my closet, or maybe they’re just
swollen from carrying around not only a twenty-three-pound baby boy but
the extra forty or so I was left with after delivery.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and force myself from the room
before I lose my nerve and ask Parker to bring Deaton back over with the
excuse of nap time. They’re catching on to that, though, if the playpen that
Lolli bought for her place, knowing the gang was planning to hang out over
there for most of the week, is any indication.
My lips tip up at the thought.
There’s one thing I can say about all the new people in my life—they
make me feel like they want to be there, not because they’re friends of my
brother’s or family to his girlfriend, and not because I’m always around but
because they truly, genuinely care.
They like me, and more importantly, they love my son.
With my head held high and a practiced smile in place, I walk out the
back door, waving as everyone on the deck next door shouts their
excitement at seeing me.
The fake smile on my face shifts instantly, and a real one takes its place,
growing more eager to join the party with each step toward it.
That is until I meet the small scowl of the man with his forearms
perched over the edge of the railing as if he was waiting for me to appear.
I have no doubt he was. It’s written in the sharp set of his jaw and tight
smash of his full lips. He’s upset with me, and rightfully so.
Everyone is here for the holiday, so he knows my weekend is booked,
that there’s nowhere to go aside from shuffling from my house to Lolli’s, to
the one he co-owns with his friends down the road, but that doesn’t mean I
won’t do what I can to avoid…everything.
His eyes narrow as if reading my thoughts, and the look that takes over
his face sends a chill down my spine, whispering words he doesn’t have to
speak aloud. The message is as clear as day in those expressive eyes: I dare
you to try.
Sorry, Mase, but I will.

T he sun set a few hours ago , and with it came a whole new sense of
dread.
The afternoon was bustling, no less than five conversations happening
all at once, making it easy to stay busy and keep my mind off things, but
over the last half hour, couple after couple, group after group, has left, and
when my brother and his girlfriend, Kenra, are the next to stand, a knot
forms in my throat. Before I can follow and agree to calling it a night, the
pair looks my way.
“Stay awhile,” Parker suggests, as I knew he would. “We’ll take Deaton
with us and put him in his bed.”
Anxiety spikes, sending a wave of nausea though me, and I look to the
sleeping baby nestled beside me on the patio couch, his blankets tucked
tight up to his chin, nothing but his little face to be seen and a hint of dark
curls along his forehead.
“It’s okay.” I rush to stand, but my brother puts a hand on my shoulder,
pressing me back into the seat.
His blue eyes, nearly the exact shade as mine, soften. “Stay, Peep. I’ll
turn on the monitors and watch him like a hawk. We’re gonna finish that
docuseries we started anyway, so we’ll be up for a while. Relax, visit. Come
home when you feel like it.”
I want to argue what if he wakes ups and needs me, but we both know
he won’t.
Deaton, while attached to me at the hip and unable to fall asleep without
being rocked or patted or hummed to, sleeps through the night, and it’s
exactly his bedtime. That, and he will take a bottle if it came to that.
When I hesitate, Kenra nudges my knee with hers, drawing my
attention. “I could go get the monitor, and you could watch him from here?”
“No, it’s fine.” I shake my head, smiling from her to my brother. They
know I trust them completely with his nephew. She’s only offering because
she wants to make sure I have no excuse to refuse the little bit of freedom
they’re gifting me. “Thanks.”
It’s all I can say, and I stare as Parker bends and picks up his nephew
Deaton, my gaze trailing after them as he carries him to the house beside
this one.
As my eyes cut back across the sand, I spot Mason, watching them as I
was, and I know what’s coming next. His head turns, attention latching on
to me, and whatever he was saying to Brady, one-third of his best friend
triangle, dies on his lips. He excuses himself immediately, climbing the
stairs leading to the deck at what I would almost consider a run.
My nerve endings tingle, apprehension and more trickling over my
limbs as he advances, no one close enough to intercept, though the look on
his face tells me he wouldn’t let that happen.
 He’s been waiting all day for this, an uninterrupted moment between
him and me, just as much as I’ve dreaded it.
Rather than sinking into the vacant seat at my side, Mason loops his
ankle around the leg of the small table across from where I’m sitting, tugs it
closer, and drops down directly in front of me, accepting nothing less than
my full, undivided attention.
He’s quiet a moment, a frown he tries to fight but can’t seem to erase
pulling at the edges of his eyes. Several seconds pass, maybe a minute or
two even before he opens his mouth, his voice a warm, wounded whisper.
“Hi, Pretty Little.”
My lungs expand with a full breath hearing the nickname he gave me
the day we met. It was born of innocence, a tease really from the fun and
flirty man living it up on the beach, but it’s become so much more than that,
and the affectionate way in which he speaks it pulls me back from the panic
threatening to take over. My lips curve into a soft smile, and his follow.
“Hi, Mase.”
He stares, gaze traveling over my face before settling on my single
braid. This time, when his eyes come back to mine, there’s a spark there.
It’s fleeting, and if I had blinked, I’d have missed it. Something warms in
my chest, and I wonder if, subconsciously, I decided on a braid for his
benefit or if it really was for the time factor.
My cheeks heat at the thought, but thankfully it’s dark out.
Mason looks to the sky, dewy with the July night air, and when he looks
back to me, his entire demeanor softens.
It’s too much, and I drop my gaze to my lap, picking at the little balls of
lint on the blanket covering my thighs.
“Payton—”
“I think I’ll go to bed after all.” I push to my feet swiftly, my knees
bumping his as I do.
When my feet won’t move and Mason doesn’t either, I chance a glance
at him.
A crestfallen expression takes over his features, and slowly he stands.
We’re so close, both wedged between the seat and table.
My chest is pressed to his stomach, and if I were to tip my chin the
slightest bit, my forehead would rest against his pecs. His hand raises, and I
jolt when the heat of his knuckle grazes my cheek. He pulls back, and when
I look up at him in question, his smile is forced.
 “Just a little water,” he whispers, and only then do I realize a tear
slipped.
I didn’t even feel it.
The sound of the sliding glass door opening reaches us, so Mason turns,
heading straight to the ice chest. He grabs two beers, popping open a third
and finishing it before his feet reach the sand. Walking in the opposite
direction of his friends, he disappears under the dark night sky.
Dropping back in my seat, I close my eyes, hoping the deep breath will
help hide the turmoil in my mind.
He walked away, knowing I needed him to. I fight the tears threatening
to come back, guilt swimming through me for liking how he always knows
what I’m feeling and hating that I do. He shouldn’t be able to read me the
way he does.
But he’s always been that way, hasn’t he?
The cushion beside me dips, and I drop my head back to the soft pillow
behind me, glancing over at my friend.
Arianna Johnson stares in the direction her twin brother just headed
before turning to me with a small smile. “Want to tell me what happened
between you two?”
Tensing, I swallow the knot in my throat and look out over the moonlit
water.
I force my lips to lift in the corners, accepting the can of cream soda she
passes my way. “Nothing happened.”
She tips her head a bit, and after a moment, she nods.
Ari doesn’t call me out on my lie, but we both know it is one.
What happened between Mason and me?
God. Where would I even begin…

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWO

PAYTON

B efore , J uly

T his was a huge mistake . I never should have come to C alifornia ,

and I have no idea what possessed me to do so. I mean, I haven’t talked to
my brother in who the hell knows how long, and I thought it would be a
good idea to show up on his doorstep and drop bombs?
Hey, Parker, I ignored your attempts to talk to me for hella long because
I was pissed you left me with that vile woman who gave birth to us, and by
the way, I’m a junior in high school, pregnant, ran away from home, and
oh! Who’s the baby daddy, you ask? None other than the little brother to the
asshole who stole and mistreats the girl you’re in love with.
I scrub my hands down my face.
Jesus Christ, how did he not toss me out on my ass right there, or
worse…call our mother to come pick me up? Even if I think it, I know he
would never, and while I’m stressing over everything, he’s doing the
opposite.
Well, he’s probably stressing just the same, but his big brother instincts
are second to none. I’ve been a brat, and he’s been nothing but supportive
and encouraging.
What’s crazy, his friends have been the same, including me in every
little thing they do, and it doesn’t seem forced or leave me feeling like the
shadow they can’t get rid of.
They’re all pretty chill and easygoing. Way more tight-knit and
meddling in one another’s business than I’m used to, but from what I can
tell, there’s nothing malicious about it. More like a little family of friends
who actually give a shit.
Still, as I glance from where Parker’s huddled beside a swing with
Kenra to the others splashing around in the water not too far from where I
stand, it’s clear I don’t belong here.
I’m not…like them.
They’re in swimsuits with wind-dried hair, and the girls wear not a
speck of makeup, the norm for a day at the beach I’d assume.
I’m standing at the water’s edge in a designer jumper that hasn’t even
been released in stores yet, my face painted as flawlessly as my hair is
curled.
They’re laughing and joking and playing around.
I’m sixty seconds from a nervous breakdown and might vomit on my
toes.
I’m not a high school graduate on the cusp of college.
I’m not easygoing and free, and I don’t have my whole future ahead of
me.
My life is over.
I close my eyes.
Girl, get a grip. You’re pregnant, not dying.
Pregnant.
Holy shit.
There’s a tiny little human growing inside my body.
What the fuck am I going to do?
My breathing picks up and my chest clenches, panic building in my gut.
I can’t do this. I can’t handle it. It’s not just my life, but Deaton’s, too. He
was offered a scholarship to wrestle at Penn State. He’s so excited.
My lungs shrivel, and I gasp. A baby will ruin everything. I ruined
everything and I can. Not. Do. This. I⁠—
“You know, pretty clothes and prettier hair won’t keep you safe out
here.”
 My head snaps left, finding the source of the teasing voice.
I should have recognized whose it was instantly, as he’s the one who’s
spoken to me the most since I crashed their summer with my drama. He’s
grinning playfully as he sweeps a hand through his hair, a darker shade of
brown now that it’s dripping wet…as is the rest of his body.
It takes me a moment to realize what he means, and he knows the
second I catch on.
That grin on his lips turns wicked, and he circles me like he’s found the
perfect prey.
“Mason—”
“You say my name so pretty, Pretty Little,” he chuckles, and then he’s
darting forward, his arms locking around my legs and hauling me into the
air before I can even think.
A gasp escapes, and I wait for the annoyance and anger to hit, but it
never comes.
A strange whirl of relief and excitement flits through me, and I laugh,
closing my eyes and clutching on for dear life when suddenly both our
bodies are dipping into the water.
I squeal, nearly giggling at the icy absurdity of the water temperature.
“Oh my god!” My arms lock tighter. “Why is it so cold?”
Mason chuckles into my ear, spinning in circles and dunking me lower
until I scream. “Hold your breath. One…”
“Don’t you⁠—”
“Two.”
“Dare—”
My shoulders pop out of the water, and then we’re lowering again, and I
gasp, pulling in a long breath. He submerges us both, but only for a split
second before we resurface.
I shake from the cold, but an unexpected laugh bubbles up my throat,
and I groan, blinking through the water in my fake lashes as he moves us
back until my feet can reach the ground.
My hands unwind themselves, and I slap water his way, but I’m unable
to wipe the grin off my face.
“How’s the hair now?” I mock myself.
“Still looks pretty perfect to me.” His eyes meet mine, and he quickly
looks away, clearing his throat. Then he looks back with a smirk. “I gotta
admit, I was only eighty percent sure you wouldn’t rage on me for tossing
you in.”
“Yet you still chose to do so.”
“Hey, I can do about anything with an eighty percent chance. You
should see my stats.”
“That’s right.” I nod, dipping low into the water until the waves are
softly splashing against my chin. “Big bad football star, huh?”
“Damn straight.” His smile is as cocky as it is teasing. “You ever
watch?”
“Not interested.”
He gapes at me, literally gapes, his head whipping around to see if his
friends heard. I imagine he was looking for some backup, but they’re too far
away, and now I’m laughing.
As my laughter settles, I begin to swim in place, and a long sigh leaves
me.
My eyes find Mason’s, and this time, his smile is soft.
“That’s what I was waiting for,” he whispers, but a moment later, he
starts to shake his head. “Don’t bring them back.”
Confusion draws my brows in, and he wades closer.
Reaching up, he runs his knuckle down the creases the frown I didn’t
know I was wearing created on my forehead. “They only just disappeared.”
His gaze meets mine again, and while I can’t quite read his expression, it
has something in my chest tightening.
It’s almost like…like he cares. Likes he’s worried and he wants me to
know everything I’m feeling is okay. That it will all be okay and my life
isn’t over.
That I didn’t ruin everything by running away from home and that I’m
not unjustified in hiding the pregnancy from the boy I love, if only for a
little longer while I figure out what to do.
But that’s crazy talk, right?
I hardly know Mason, literally met him days ago.
Yet there it is, in the golden hue of his eyes.
A promise from him to me.
My bottom lip trembles, and he extends his arm yet again, the
roughness of his knuckle sweeping along my cheekbone.
“Just a little water,” he whispers, erasing the stupid tear that slipped
without permission.
 We both know it’s a lie, and because of it, my smile seems to slide right
back into place.
“So.” I turn away, peeking at him from the corner of my eye. “How
boring is football?”
His glare is quick, but his laughter is quicker. “Well, Pretty Little.” He
leads me from the water. “Let me tell you all about it…”
And he does.
For hours, he tries all sorts of ways to explain the game. He scribbles
lines in the sand, Xs and Os all over the place, and when he hands me the
stick, telling me to show him where the ball is going, I slide it across his
entire drawing and take off laughing when he gasps in horror.
We play catch, and he shows me how to grip the laces for the perfect
throw. The others join, and suddenly there are teams. The competitive
nature of each and every male, and Lolli of course, shines through.
By the end of the day, Ari, her best friend Cameron, and I are panting
and dropping our asses into the sand, exhausted to the max, but not the
boys.
“How are they still able to run? I can hardly talk.”
The girls laugh, leaning back and pointing their faces to the sky, the sun
directly above us now.
“Girl, those boys have stamina for days.” Cameron pops an eye open,
grinning. “Well, them and Lolli.”
Grinning, I face the group, shaking my head when they go straight from
the game to the ground, showing not a single sigh of expelled energy
outside the sheen of sweat gleaming across their skin.
Lolli bends, clapping her hands, and starts playing the role of the coach
as the boys pair up and start to wrestle—a result of their inability to agree
on who won.
Wrestling.
Boyfriend.
Baby.
My smile falls, and I jump to my feet, spinning and heading in the
opposite direction of everyone else…but I don’t make it far.
“Sneaking away, are we? You know the girls are about to walk down to
the pier for lunch?”
I freeze, swallowing, and force my lips to curve up as I spin around.
 Chase, Mason’s best friend, is dusting sand from his knees as he jogs for
me.
“Yeah, I’m not hungry. Just going to grab a drink off the deck and sit for
a while.”
He flashes me pearly whites and strides forward until he’s ahead,
whirling to walk backward so he can face me as he speaks. “Perfect. I’m
parched.”
A grin pulls at my mouth. “Parched?”
He chuckles, turning and taking the stairs up the deck two at a time.
“Aren’t you all sophisticated and shit.”
“Oh yeah, I’m a real scholar.” I wince at my own words.
Even if I were, which I’m not, it wouldn’t matter now. You can’t exactly
go to college with a baby.
Deaton is though. He has a 4.2 GPA and a full-ride offer for athletics.
He’s a freaking genius, and I’m the dummy who’s destroying everything.
Chase’s features soften a moment, but he quickly replaces the
expression with an easygoing grin. Digging into the ice chest, he comes
back with two waters.
He settles in the space at my side, offering me one, and we sit in silence
for a little while, doing nothing but watching his friends and the many other
people randomly making their way down the sand.
After several minutes, Chase sits back with a sigh. “It’s not usually this
busy here.”
I look his way, and he continues, his eyes staying on the passersby.
“Summer always gets a little crazy. Everyone wants to hit the beach at
least once, and they drive in from all over to find a spot like this.”
“Not a fan of big crowds?” I wonder.
He shrugs, taking a long drink. “I don’t know, I guess I don’t like…
change.” He trails off, like he’s not so sure that’s the right word.
I’m not so sure it makes sense in context, but I do sort of get what he’s
saying. If you’re used to something being a certain way, a crowd of
strangers will definitely throw that off.
“The best time to be here is, well, about when we have to leave.” He
chuckles. “August, September. You should stick around. I think you’ll like
it.”
When I glance his way, I find he’s already staring, and around us, the
voices of the others grow louder, the boys headed this way.
 “If the gang gets to be too much, let me know,” he says before standing
up and catching a ball no one warned him was coming. Mason appears then,
throwing his arm around his best friend.
“We’re playing heads-up, and you’re on our team. Win and get
whatever your little heart desires.” Both boys smile down at me, and I can’t
help but smile back.
They step away, setting up to play on the picnic table, so I take a
moment to myself, realizing the heaviness that is my life has been absent
nearly all day, and in its place is an easy lightheartedness I’m not sure I’ve
ever known.
As the day turns to night and I look out over the never-ending blue
waters ahead, I can’t help but wonder…
What if…what if coming here wasn’t a mistake?
My gaze travels over the people I’ve met this week, my eyes catching
on Mason’s briefly before they continue across the horizon.
Tentatively, maybe even subconsciously, my hand falls to my belly.
What if I’m right where I’m meant to be?

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THREE

PAYTON

N ow , J uly 3

“K nock , knock .” T he soft whisper has me looking toward the hall

to find Mia sneaking in on her tiptoes.
Deaton whips his head around so fast he almost falls off my lap and
instantly starts speaking baby talk as he clenches his hands together in
excitement at a new face to play with.
I lift him, spinning him to face her on my lap, and take his hand, waving
it at her. “Say hi, Mia.”
“So he is awake,” she singsongs, her feet carrying her faster across the
room until she’s stealing him from my arms and lifting him into the air.
“And here I thought you didn’t come to brunch because someone was
napping.” She points a raised, red brow my way.
“So what’s up?” I ignore her comment, pushing to my feet and using the
moment of free hands to pick up the mess of toys, socks, and more.
“Oh, you know, another day, another shitstorm.” Mia follows me into
the kitchen, Deaton in her arms.
 I give her a questioning look and drop my head back dramatically,
laughing when Deaton tries to stick his hand in her mouth.
“So I have a problem. Well, not me, and honestly, I don’t even know
why I’m trying to help at this point, but⁠—”
“Mia, come on.” I fight a smile. “Out with it.”
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes. “Ever wanted to photograph a wedding
reception?”
My brows snap together. “I’m listening.”
Mia nods and goes into explaining how her client, whose wedding dress
Lolli was modeling yesterday for last-minute alterations, was cancelled on
and is now in need of a new photographer. “So I thought of you…but I also
sort of already told her you would do it…”
“Mia,” I chuckle, shaking my head. “I’ve only been interning with
Embers Elite for, what, six months or something. And that’s sports
photography.”
“Same thing.”
“Not even a little bit.” I laugh lightly, fighting with the stupid bottle
scrubber to work with me. “I take action shots…mostly.”
“See!” She smiles. “Come on. It’s no pressure. The ceremony is
covered, so it’s just the reception, and they only want candid shit, no
posing. So snap a few pics, no contract, and get a fat paycheck from a
spoiled-ass Southern chick. It’s a win.”
I chew my lip, ideas of what moments I would want to capture already
flying through my mind at warp speed. My expression must show the
internal excitement at the opportunity, because Mia squeals.
“Yes!” she shouts, dancing around with Deaton, making him grin like
crazy. “And before you start worrying about not being able to go for this or
that reason, Ari and Noah were very quick to offer to babysit.”
Sadness blooms in my chest for the couple that’s been through more
than anyone should go through in a lifetime, but before I start comparing
their rotten apples to my sour oranges, I shut that train of thought down.
“Yeah, okay. Deal.” I agree before I think too hard about it. It’s not like
I’m in a position to turn down work anyway. But honestly… “I’d love to.”
Mia makes a giant, overexaggerated happy face for Deaton’s benefit,
and then without a word to me, she heads out the back door, taking my son
right along with her.
 I don’t wait around to see when she’ll pop back in but take advantage of
the moment and run to the shower.
This is good, perfect even.
Today, I’ll be out all afternoon with Mason’s and Nate’s parents.
Tomorrow is the holiday, so everyone will be around, talking a mile a
minute and taking up every moment I could possibly have. Later that night,
when my subconscious fights against sleep, I’ll spend the time getting my
camera bag ready. Then the wedding will be here, and it will be the perfect
distraction to make it through. I can do this.
I can.

“I sn ’ t that just the sweetest thing you ’ ve ever even ?” V ivian

gushes, the gleam in her eyes one of happiness, but the way her hand raises
to her chest at the same time tells me a little part of her is thinking of the
loss her family faced not all that long ago.
Mason’s mom, Vivian, is one of the kindest women I have ever met,
along with Lolli’s future mother-in-law, Sarah. From the moment we met
last year, those two have become something I didn’t know I needed—
women to look up to.
I’ve always known my mother was a horrible woman, but I guess I
never stopped to think of what it meant to be a good one. Not to your core
anyway, and these two? Well, I’d say they were one of a kind, but there’s
two of them.
Gracious and forgiving, understanding and caring. Selfless and driven to
give their love freely—an entirely new concept for me—and they have, to
both Deaton and me.
No one calls me as much as Vivian, and no one sends care packages as
much as Sarah, something I’ve asked her not to do because I don’t want her
to feel obligated, and the more she does, the more likely she will. Of course,
she waves me off every time, and a few days later, there’s a new box on my
front porch. I swear, the only time I buy baby clothes is when I see
something I want him to have. Thanks to the two of them, Lolli, and Parker,
Deaton’s closet is fuller than mine.
 I smile down at the little man when he starts making random sounds, his
slobbery fingers reaching out to slap on the glass before us. The little bear
cub on the other side comes closer and slaps his palm in the same spot.
Deaton jerks, his whole body flailing with one of those baby jump
scares, and the three of us laugh as he looks up at us with big blue eyes,
seeking confirmation he is, in fact, perfectly fine.
“Oh, sweet boy,” Vivian coos, bending to have a full-on conversation
with the infant.
Another cry catches my attention, and I look to the left to find a little
boy with blond hair stretching his arms up into the air from where he’s
strapped into his stroller. He’s reaching for the man with matching features
who I can only assume is his dad. Instantly, the man drops down and frees
the little guy from his seat, happily bouncing him around as he turns them
back toward the zoo exhibit.
I watch as the little boy drops his head down on the man’s shoulder, and
it’s like a boulder bears down on mine in the same second.
Deaton…
“Come, honey.” Sarah’s soft voice wraps around me, and she curls her
arm through mine, leading us to where my smiling baby waits with Vivian.
I didn’t even realize they’d continued forward.
Vivian’s eyes find mine, a knowing look within them as she offers a
small smile, one that quickly grows when she points at the curly-haired boy
now in her arms. “I think it’s time for lunch. What do you say, sweet pea?”
Together, we head for the food court, my phone ringing all the way, but
I don’t answer, and I don’t look at the screen. I don’t need to to know who’s
calling.
I know it’s him.
It’s always him.

Mason

M y leg is bouncing so fast , the headboard of the bed hits against

the wall in steady knocks. Later, I’ll likely have Brady down my throat,
demanding to know who I snuck in for a bit of afternoon fun. Little does he
know I haven’t touched another since⁠—
Swallowing my frustration, I jump to my feet and tug a hoodie over my
head.
I’m out the door and jogging down the beach in seconds, making this
my third official run of the day.
I can’t sit still, not knowing I’m literal feet from Payton, something I’ve
wished for for months now, and I can’t see or talk to her. To be fair, she’s
not home. I know because I’ve gone by there the last two times I tugged a
hoodie on and went for the same damn run. The second spin around, Parker
was home, but she still wasn’t, so I can’t exactly stop—again—and ask if
she is back without looking like a possessive jackass.
Not that I care. I kind of am one, if I’m honest, but I’ve been holding in
my inner need to flip the fuck out considering everyone is around. And god
damn, everyone is always around. I can never get her alone, not during
visits like this one.
If it were up to me I’d make a whole-ass scene, knock the doors down,
and beat my chest like a caveman. I won’t, though, for her sake and no one
else’s.
Still, as I approach Payton’s house, my feet move a little slower, my
eyes slicing across every inch of the place. Nothing I can see from here
gives away if she’s in there or not. I mean, I could knock, but Parker will
just ask what he asked before.
Did I call her?
I scoff.
What kind of question is that?
Of course I fuckin’ called her. Texted her, too.
Been calling and texting without a response for fifty-seven days. Yes, I
counted, and you know what? It doesn’t sound as bad as saying months
does, but it’s July, and that was May, and fuck me. It feels shitty. Worse
than.
I’m caught in quicksand, and there’s no one around to pull me out.
I jog past her house, then Nate’s, and I keep going, running longer than
my five a.m. cardio session and farther than round two when I thought I
was being the right kind of sneaky and would catch her when I know
Deaton would be awake. I didn’t, and if the lack of her answering the knock
I couldn’t help but bring down on her window was any indication, she was
already gone.
Why is she doing this?
What the fuck happened?
The questions are too daunting, so I block them out. I run until my lungs
burn, and only when my legs are jelly do I turn around and drag my ass the
five miles back, this time taking the street so I can get a view of the front of
the house in case it reveals anything different.
It doesn’t, and now I’m getting pissy.
Sweat pours from my temples as I pant my way up the drive of the
beach house I co-own with my sister, her best friend Cameron, and my
boys, Brady and Chase, so I tug my hoodie over my head and swipe at it,
following the wraparound deck from front to back. I toss my top onto the
picnic bench and snag a football from the bucket by the door.
I no sooner toss it in the air than the slider opens, and the man of all
fucking men walks out.
His eyes meet mine a moment before dropping to my calves, both tight
and twitching. “You’re overdoing it.”
“I’m good.” I flex through it, nearly numb to the ache, and head down
the stairs into the sand. Spinning so I’m walking backward, I point the ball
his way.
Noah’s hands go open instantly, and I toss him the ball.
“Run some routes for me?”
He hesitates, then nods, joining me on the beach and channeling his old
receiver position, or new depending on how you look at it considering he
was drafted as a wide receiver, officially retiring his quarterback arm and
helping me perfect mine.
The first half hour, we’re just warming up with short distance passes,
but the minute we get into running routes, I’m all over the fucking place.
I’m overthrowing and underthrowing, and when a pass I rocket to him,
one I could normally make with my eyes closed, lands ten feet to his left,
his head whips in my direction.
The concern in his expression isn’t ill placed as he walks back toward
me. “Have you been working with your offseason coaches?”
I look off, spinning the ball in my hands. “Every day.”
“Footwork? Mechanics? Hip rotation⁠—”
 “Yeah, Noah.” I cut him off. “I’m doing the whole-ass Noah Riley
thing. Working my way out of your shadow and all that bull.”
Noah frowns but says nothing. He’s great, but maybe I should have had
Chase out here. At least he would let me pick a fight and fight back. Noah’s
just too…Noah for that.
I can tell he wants to say something that would be in line with what my
dad would say, and it would sound something like I’m not filling a shadow
but stepping into a role I was made for as the next starting quarterback of
Avix University now that he’s been drafted to the big boys’ game. Of
course, he wouldn’t add that last little bit in—the man is far too humble for
that.
It’s wild to think my twin sister, baby sister if you ask me, is dating a
man who was picked in the first round of the NFL draft. I like to think she
has me to thank for that—all those after-school and weekend hours spent on
the bleachers paid off in a big way for her, and I’m not talking money.
I’m talking that gravity-defying, soul-defining, epic love story shit.
She has that.
I want that.
Fuck.
Shoving my hand through my hair, I look his way. “I’m just off my
game today, that’s all. I’ve been slaying in practice. Doing two a day and
ending in an ice bath, rotating to heat packs when called for. I’ve had no
offseason and been in all summer so far. Coach says I’m solid.”
Noah nods, eying me curiously. “You do know there is such a thing as
overdoing it, right?”
“Yeah, man. I know.”
“Then why are we out here when your calves are spasming? You could
pull something if you don’t rehab right.”
“I said I’m doing ice baths.”
“I’m talking about now. Not at school.” He cocks his head a bit, and I
know he’s done pretending he isn’t seeing more than an off day of practice.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” he asks. “I mean, I’m not Chase or
Brady or whatever, but we’re friends, Mason.”
“Come on, man.” I wave that off. “You’re fucking family, and you know
it, so don’t start with that shit again.”
He smiles wide, and I can’t help the chuckle that leaves me.
 It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask when he’ll propose to my sister. After
the year they had and the love they had to fight for, I almost wonder if he
already did and they haven’t told us yet. But when he looks back at me, an
expectant look in his eye that says we’re not changing the subject, I face
away.
He won’t pry. He’s not the type.
Shit, he was in love with my sister for months, listened to her talk about
another dude for most of that, and never so much as said a word. He’s got
the inner strength and willpower of a saint.
He’s the picture of patience, and here I am with a bobby pin I stole from
Ari’s bathroom in my pocket, just waiting for night to fall so I can pick the
lock on Payton’s room tonight and force her to talk to me.
Why won’t she talk to me?
A frustrated groan leaves me, and I glance toward Noah, but he isn’t
looking at me anymore. A slow smile is spreading across his face, a faraway
look taking over, and I don’t have to turn to know who stepped out onto the
deck.
“Sister,” I call out to test my theory.
“Brother.”
Grinning, I peek over to find her leaning against the railing, chin
pressed in her palm. Slowly, her eyes leave Noah’s and meet mine for a
brief smile before sliding back to the man beside me.
The warmth in her gaze fills me with happiness, but just as quickly, the
sentiment switches into something else.
He has his girl.
I thought one day, I’d have mine.
Maybe I won’t.
Maybe that’s a pipe dream never to see the light of day.
Maybe I need to work a little harder.
“I’m gonna go see what Nate’s up to.”
“Uh-huh,” Ari teases, like she knows what’s up.
She couldn’t possibly. No one does.
No one but me…and the girl I want to be mine.
“You do know she’s at the zoo with Mom and Aunt Sarah today, right?”
Ari not only proves she’s more in tune than I thought but shocks the shit
out of me with her question. Or admission, because no, I did not know that.
It should settle me knowing Payton’s spending time with my family, the
people who love me most, but it doesn’t.
I want to be the person she spends her time with. I want to be the one to
show Little D the monkeys and the bears. Maybe this is good, though, a
twisted sort of sign she’s still in reach, if only through those closest to me.
She will be. She has to be.
What the fuck will I do if she won’t be?

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FOUR

PAYTON

N ow , J uly 4

I never understood why people enjoyed trips to the beach . W ho

would want to swim in freezing cold water? Anyone who has so much as
put their feet in the ocean off the coast of California knows the one thing
this sunny state does not have…is warm ocean water. Sure, sometimes it’s
less than freezing, but it’s never warm, and don’t even get me started on the
sand.
Dare to swim and you’re gifted with a suit full of it, but not only that,
you get ratted hair as a bonus, even if the tips never so much as graze the
water’s surface. Oh, and good luck vacuuming the bits that make it back to
your car with you. No matter how many times you beat your sandals against
the curb or shake your towel out, it’s never enough. The sand demons win
every time.
So yeah, who the hell would want to spend a single minute at the beach,
right?
God, what a prissy brat my mother raised me to be.
 Thankfully, my brother is the furthest thing from his mother’s son and
showed me what I wasn’t seeing, encouraged me to open not only my eyes
but my mind.
Now?
I don’t understand how anyone could ever hate the beach.
To be honest, I have no idea where I would be right now without it.
The waves, while unforgiving, don’t judge.
The sun doesn’t sear you with worried eyes and taut expressions.
The wind doesn’t push for words when you don’t feel like talking.
The sand doesn’t crunch beneath your feet like the eggshells everyone
seems to walk on around me. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
Here, there’s no pity for the poor little thing, and that’s exactly what I
have become. To everyone.
Poor Payton lost the boy she loved.
Poor Payton never got to finish her senior year of high school.
Poor Payton is a teenage mom.
Poor Payton is a single mom.
Poor poor pitiful me, right? That’s how the song goes?
It’s not as hard as you’d think to avoid your feelings, but how could it
be when everyone around tells you how okay you’re going to be? It’s why I
like it better when school is in session and everyone is back in their dorms
at their respective colleges, leaving the house empty. There’s no one to
hover, no one to pretend to be fine in front of when all you want to do is
freak the fuck out every now and then—because it’s not like it’s all the
time. Or it was, but then it wasn’t.
It is again, though, isn’t it?
Groaning, I rub my hands down my face. God, maybe I am this little
lost soul everyone sees me as.
Well, not everyone.
He doesn’t. He sees so much more than the broken girl with a battered
heart. He—no.
I squeeze my eyes closed, pushing away the thought. I can’t think of
him. It’s…wrong.
Sighing, I force myself to sit up, glancing back at the swing that sways
slightly under the giant pergola thanks to the morning draft Oceanside has
to offer, even in July. It’s an old, wooden two-seater with lights twining up
the chain securing it to the thick beams above—a gift for Lolli from her
man. It’s deep and meaningful and theirs, a tangible item of love.
Jealousy whirls through me like a tidal wave, knocking me in the chest
and thieving the air from my lungs. She gets to share the most meaningful
thing in her life.
I don’t.
I should be happy about that. I have one of the greatest gifts love could
ever offer all to myself, a perfectly healthy baby boy, and in some twisted
ways only a girl raised by a vicious mother could reason, I am. But that’s
the scared, selfish part of me. The part that doesn’t want the cruel world to
touch the innocence I can protect if it’s me and me alone, but the reality of
it all is I don’t want to. My choice was taken from me in the blink of an eye,
and I’m supposed to deal.
I have no choice but to deal.
My eyes fall to the screen of the monitor in my hand, and I smile at the
little man who’s sound asleep in his crib, the little plush football tucked
under his arm like he was born to hold it.
He wasn’t. His daddy was a wrestler, not a football player, but he’ll
never get to tell him about that or teach him his favorite moves.
Deaton will never even get to hear his daddy’s voice.
Tears fill my eyes instantly, and I close them, letting the hot streaks
warm my cheeks, the wind quickly turning the heat to a chill, but I don’t
swipe them away.
I welcome the guilt that flows through me, the pain and anger and
longing. The regret.
The love for the boy who isn’t here anymore is still there, heavy in my
heart, as broken and bruised as it is.
A soft click sounds, and my eyes open, falling back on the monitor, and
my pulse jumps into my throat in anticipation.
The door to my son’s bedroom opens ever so slowly, and he slips right
inside.
I stare with trembling lips as Mason steps up to the edge of the old crib,
peeking in on Deaton with an expression so tender it can’t be mistaken for
anything but adoration, but when he reaches out, his hand so large it nearly
hides all those dark curls as he gently glides his palm along them, his eyes
close on a slow, painful blink. His head hangs the slightest bit, and a choked
sob escapes me, the heaviness in my heart doubling in size, the weight of
another hovering just above the gaping hole Deaton’s death left behind. It
presses there like a needle to the skin, eager to slip right through. To break
the surface and burrow deeper than it already has.
I can’t let it in.
I can’t let him in.
As if you have a say.
As if it’s not too late…
Eyes locked on the video monitor, I try not to cry as he reaches into the
crib, gently taking Deaton’s tiny hand in his large one. He stares down at
my sleeping baby boy with the softest yet saddest of smiles written on his
lips.
“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m scared, little man,” he whispers. “Your
mama’s avoiding me, and I have no idea what to do about it.”
He goes quiet for a moment, and I struggle to breathe, staring at my
son’s hand as it opens, his tiny fingers wrapping around Mason’s thumb.
Mason’s lips spread into a wide grin, a soft, quiet chuckle slipping free.
“This your way of telling me you won’t let me go?”
A knot forms in my throat, and I lock my hand around my neck.
Suddenly, Mason’s face falls, and he bends, his forehead now resting on
the edge of the crib. “Please don’t let me go.”
Gasping, I cut the camera off. I can’t listen anymore. Can’t watch.
I sit there in the sand for a while longer before I dare to turn the monitor
back on. My muscles ease when I find no one but my sleeping baby on the
screen.
Closing my eyes, I push to my feet, pulling in a lungful of salty air.
I’ve worn many masks over the years, something my mother demanded
in her pursuit for a perfect daughter. It will be no different from that…and
no different from the one I’ve worn on and off for almost a year now.
But he saw through that mask.
I wince, glancing up over the small sand hill to the large bay window at
the back of my brother’s home. My home.
All our friends and their families will be in one spot today. It’s a whole-
ass affair that just a few days ago I was looking forward to. Now I wish I
didn’t have a part in the decision to make our house the main point instead
of saying we should do it at Mason and the others’ place down the beach.
That way, I could make an excuse and stay behind. I can’t do that now.
 I wanted to visit with everyone. I need the distraction, now more than
ever, but the mere thought of laughing and celebrating with everyone has
me as nauseated as the morning sickness used to. That’s the thing about
grief and the million other emotions flickering through me, though, right? It
messes with my mind in a single blink. It can be a memory or a feeling or a
sight. A song, a single word, or even a damn snack. Everything is fine,
sometimes better than fine…until it isn’t.
Until guilt dirties it, or anger buries it, or fear wraps its vicious claws
around and chokes it.
Get a grip, Payton. Everything is fine. You’re fine.
A few more days.
I just have to fake it, stay busy, and then the day will pass, taking the
rope around my lungs with it. They’ll go back to college, and I’ll find all
that progress I made but seem to have misplaced.
I can do this.
Besides, not much can happen in a week, right?
If my memory were a person, she would laugh in my face.
If anyone knows how bullshit such a thought can be, it’s me.

“W hat a royal dick move that would be .” M ia grins .

“What dick move are we talking about?”
We squeal, surprised by the intruding voice, and look up as Mia’s ex
walks over, but that’s not what has me swallowing. It’s the person who
trails right behind him, an easy, not completely genuine grin in place. Still,
it adds to his undeniable appeal.
Mason is effortlessly attractive with messy, dark brown hair he keeps
trimmed short, and he chooses this exact moment to run a hand through it,
accentuating the tapered muscles of his torso that are in no way hidden by
the shirt he’s wearing, if you can even call it a shirt anymore. He has the
arms completely cut off, the sides slit down to the waist, where his palm
tree–covered board shorts lie low against his hips.
He is the perfect specimen with the mind and heart to match.
I look away.
 “Your face, Austin. Forcing us to stare at it is a dick move,” Lolli teases,
and I know she’s feeling a little buzz. She turns to Mason. “Where’re your
people?”
He sidesteps her, walking around the blanket until he’s right beside me,
and I fight the urge not to swallow.
“My sister and Cameron should be here any time.” He makes a goofy
face, reaching down and snagging Deaton from the saucer chair he was
sitting in. He chuckles when Deaton blows little bubbles through his lips,
and I can’t help the smile that forms on mine. “But Chase and Brady won’t
be back until late tonight.”
At that, I reach for my phone with a slight frown. “Are you sure,
because Chase texted me and said he’d be here for lunch.”
Mason freezes, Deaton halfway to his chest, his eyes snapping over to
lock on mine. “Chase texts you?”
I don’t know why, but my cheeks flame. Before I can respond, Mia
starts talking, but I tune her out and stand, grabbing the baby seat and
dusting off the Lamb Chop toy Deaton dropped onto the sandy blanket the
second Mason smiled at him.
I turn to Mason again, an excuse of Deaton needing a change on the tip
of my tongue, but Mason has already spun on his heels, headed for the
water’s edge. He drops onto his butt right there, shifting my son so he’s
standing between his bent legs, his little feet pressed into the wet sand.
Deaton’s face is in my line of sight, and when he smiles wide, shoving
his hands in his mouth because he’s so excited he doesn’t know what else to
do, a low laugh leaves me. I suck in a deep breath, set the things back in the
sand, and move to join them, because how could I not?
Nerves fire off in my stomach, but I count through it, doing all I can to
keep myself from running with my tail between my legs.
Mason doesn’t look up as I lower beside the pair, but when Deaton turns
his smile on me, stomping his feet and sending little speckles of wet sand
all around, he laughs and glances my way.
Our eyes meet, but he swiftly averts his gaze.
After a moment, he asks, “Think he’ll be too cold if his feet touch the
water?”
That’s right. He hasn’t gotten to see him enjoy the water yet this
summer.
I shake my head. “No, he loves the water, even as chilly as it is.”
 “Yeah?” Mason grins but keeps his attention on Deaton as he spins him
so he’s facing the ocean. Mason shifts, walking on his knees the three feet
forward to where the waves die out against the sand. “Okay, little man, here
it comes.”
I bite back a smile at the uncertainty in his tone. When Deaton jolts, his
eyes bugging wide as a small, surprised whine escapes, Mason panics,
tugging him straight into his chest and looking to me in, well, panic.
A laugh leaves me instantly, and slowly Mason relaxes, a low chuckle
pushing past his lips.
“Here.” I reach out.
Mason holds on to Deaton a second longer, almost like if he hands him
over, he has no idea how long it might be before he gets the chance to hold
him again, and it’s heartbreaking.
It’s your fault, Payton.
Hesitantly, he passes him to me. I turn Deaton to face me, and when a
wave comes, I make an excited little sound, widening my eyes and opening
my mouth wide.
Deaton tenses from the cool water but just as quickly starts stomping his
feet, fighting to bend at the waist so he can slap at it with his palms. I hold
him back at first but end up setting him on his butt between my legs so he
can play for a few minutes.
“He’s a total water baby,” I say, though I’m not sure why I’m
whispering. “Bath times are his favorite times.”
When I look at Mason, he’s not looking at me. He’s smiling softly at my
son, and a heavy sense of longing washes over me.
“Look how strong he is now, sitting up all by himself,” he notes,
reaching out to splash at the water with him.
“Yeah.”
He must hear the happiness in my voice, because he looks at me then,
an agonizing tenderness in his gaze. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“No.” My denial is too fast. Too rushed. Too loud.
“I’ve been here four times this summer.” Mason’s brown eyes hold
mine. “You were gone every single one of those times.”
“My internship at Embers Elite is demanding and⁠—”
“And you wrapped that up in May, freeing up your schedule until it
starts again at the end of summer.” He studies me. “We talked all about it…
when you were still taking my calls and answering my messages.”
 My lips clamp closed, and I swallow. A gust of wind kicks, and a piece
of hair falls into my face. Instantly, his hand lifts, but as if he didn’t even
know it was happening, he frowns and drops it back to his lap.
A heavy ache settles in my bones, and I don’t know if it’s because he
was going to touch me or because he didn’t.
Clearing my throat, I push to my feet, taking Deaton with me. “I should
get him cleaned off and⁠—”
“Payton.”
“—inside so he can take a nap and⁠—”
“Payton.”
I all but run back toward the house, bypassing the others and happy to
find the kitchen empty when I tear through the back patio door into the
house, but before I can close it behind me, Mason’s hand slips in, gently
easing it back open. Leaving him there, I hurry toward the bathroom,
looking for a place to set Deaton down.
Mason appears, pulling him from my hands, and I drop to my knees,
turning on the bathtub and securing his bath seat in the center.
I don’t look at him as I take Deaton from his hands and strip him down
to nothing, sliding him into the plastic seat.
Mason doesn’t leave. He bends, grips my chin, and turns my head
toward his, frustration drawing creases to the edges of his depthless brown
eyes.
Tears prick my own, and at the sight, whatever he wanted to say dies on
his lips.
He stands and walks away, and it’s not until I hear the soft click of the
slider door that I fall to my ass, burying my face in my hands.
He’s right. I am avoiding him, and he did come here three times this
summer. According to the messages I left on read, the only reason he
came…was for me.
My eyes fall to Deaton, who plays happily in the warm water, and I
know that’s not right.
Mason didn’t come home for me.
He came for us.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FIVE

PAYTON

B efore , J uly 5

T he pounding on the door sounds again , and my heart leaps into my

throat, suffocating me.
Oh god. This is it.
“Payton, open the door!” the boy I left behind when I ran hysterically
shouts from outside. “Please open the door. Please.” He bangs his fist again.
He’s here. He found me.
He came for me…
“Peep”—Parker holds his hands out—“talk to me. What do we do?”
I don’t respond. I can’t. I’m frozen in place, staring at the white wood
like it might crack and splinter into a million pieces, revealing a broken boy
on the other side.
“Payton,” Lolli whispers, and I jolt. I hadn’t even noticed her walking
closer. “He sounds worried. Maybe we should let him in, if only to show
him you’re okay.”
Shit. shit, shit.
Another knock.
 “Open it,” I rasp, pressing my hand to my stomach, hoping to settle the
sudden queasiness.
My brother opens the door, and there he is, sagging against the frame.
His hair is all over the place instead of in the neat styled curls he
normally wears, and his collared shirt is wrinkled from every angle.
He hasn’t spotted me yet, pleading for Parker to put him out of his
misery. “Please tell me she’s here. I’ve…I don’t know where else to go. She
just…she disappeared and⁠—”
The worry in his tone does it, and I call out, “Deaton.”
The broken laugh that leaves him makes my bones ache, and then his
eyes find mine, his own squeezing closed in relief. With his next breath,
he’s rushing my way.
The minute his arms wrap around me, the tears fall, and I honestly don’t
know if they’re from relief or fear. Relief that he’s here and fear for the very
same reason.
If my mother is vicious, his is the devil, but that’s not really why I’m
seconds from vomiting all over the both of us. I’m going to have to tell him,
and I am not ready.
“Baby, I didn’t know what had happened. Suddenly, you were gone and
—” His voice cracks, and his hold on me tightens. “I thought your mom…
Why did you leave me there? I would have come with you if you wanted to
run away.” He keeps talking, but I can’t hear past the echo of my own pulse
pounding hard against my temples.
“Deaton, please.” I pull away, and his arms fall to his sides in defeat.
“Talk to me. Tell me what I did. I’ll fix it. I promise you.”
Shame and frustration in my own self boil over inside me, and I shake
my head. “You can’t fix it.” My voice is but a whisper.
He steps closer, but I step back, wincing when his face pales at the
movement.
“What’s going on?” he pleads. “I don’t understand.”
“I…” Damn it. There is no soft way to say this, no easing him into our
new reality, so I suck it up, forcing the words from my lips and hoping it’s
the right decision. “I’m pregnant.”
Deaton’s entire body locks in place as if my words have pressed pause
on the wheel of time. One second passes, and then another. Slowly, or so it
feels, a whirl of emotion flashes across his features, and the next thing I
know, he’s bending in front of me. I’m lifted off the floor, and his feet carry
us across the room, not stopping until we’re out the sliding glass door. On
the back deck, he eases me down until I’m sitting on the outdoor sofa.
He drops down before me, and I bury my face in my palms, unable to
meet his gaze.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he finally says. “Ignoring all my calls and
texts.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s been days, Payton.” He sounds tired, but there’s no anger in his
tone. There’s not even really hurt, just concern, and that makes me feel
worse.
He’s not overly emotional, having come from a cold family, but he also
never really gets mad. Sometimes I wish he would so I would know he was
as jacked up as I am.
“I know” is all I manage to say.
“Look at me. Please.” He pauses, and I force myself to listen. A small
smile forms on his lips. “Tell me everything about the baby.”
I jump up so fast he tumbles back a bit as I make a mad dash past him,
running right down the steps and out into the warm sand. I’m halfway to the
water’s edge when he gently catches me by the wrist, swinging himself
around so he’s in front of me.
With my free hand, I press against his chest, my head shaking
feverishly, but he only pushes himself closer.
His mouth opens as tears roll down my cheeks, and then a body comes
out of nowhere, slamming into Deaton’s side so hard he’s airborne for a
solid second.
I nearly stumble onto my ass with a screech, but warm hands wrap
around me, keeping me on my feet.
“I’ve got you” is whispered into my ear, but I’m too busy gaping at the
sight before me.
Mason jumps to his feet, and I’m so shocked I don’t realize he’s moved
to straddle Deaton until his arm tugs back, his fist flying forward in a swift
swing.
My brain finally catches up to what’s happening in front of me, and it’s
my sudden shriek that breaks through the fog of Mason’s…whatever the
hell this is, and his fist freezes in the air mere inches from Deaton’s face.
His head snaps to me instantly, eyes narrowed and pinned on mine,
heavy, bursting breaths heaving from his lungs as his gaze slices across my
form as if searching for something. I think he’s shaking.
I think I’m shaking.
Somehow, when his wild eyes slide back to mine, it must click. His arm
lowers, and when Deaton shoves at him, Mason allows him to knock him
onto his ass in the sand.
“What the hell, man?” Deaton frowns, climbing to his feet and dusting
himself off.
Mason has already hopped up and moves to stand in front of me just as
the arms that kept me from tumbling fall away, and then Chase is there, too,
both guys looking from me to Deaton with hard expressions.
Mason wants to ask questions—what those would be, I don’t know—
but there must be something he sees in my gaze, as in the next moment, he
steps back.
In the blink of an eye, the tension tightening his features falls away, and
a wide smile spreads across his lips. “My bad. Thought you were some dick
touching her, then I saw her crying and, you know. Game over.”
“Thanks?” Deaton frowns but accepts Mason’s hand when he offers up
one of those bro handshakes. “I’m Deaton, but it seems you already know
that.” He looks to me expectantly.
I reach out, taking Deaton’s hand and entwining our fingers as I move to
his side.
“These are Mason and Chase, friends of my brother.” I pause, thinking
better of it. “Actually, Mason is Kenra’s cousin,” I mention, because Kenra
was seeing Deaton’s asshole older brother, so he knows her.
“Hey, sorry, man,” Chase apologizes, though he doesn’t look all that
sorry, not that he’s the one who tackled Deaton to the ground. He does look
annoyed, though. “We didn’t know you were here.”
“It’s fine.” Deaton looks to me and back. “Thanks for looking out for
her.”
I offer a small smile, my free hand pressing into his chest as I glance
toward the others. “Can you guys leave us alone, please?”
The boys hesitate but then nod, heading up the deck we just came down.
Sighing, I step in to Deaton, resting my cheek against his chest. We’re
nearly the same height, so when his arms come around me, lifting me a tiny
bit, my toes still dig into the sand.
“Well, this has been a lot more eventful of a reunion than I anticipated,”
he muses, rubbing my back.
 I grin into his neck, a light chuckle escaping. “Yeah, they’re kind of a
lot. And there’s more of them.”
It’s Deaton’s turn to chuckle. “Well, I’m glad to know there are other
people you can depend on.”
I close my eyes. “I missed you, and I know I should have told you
where I was going so you didn’t worry, but I knew you’d ask questions, and
I just…didn’t want to answer them.”
I pull back, looking at him.
“Why?” he asks softly.
“Because I know you, Deaton. I can see it in your eyes right now.
You’ve already accepted this, and you’re rearranging puzzle pieces in your
mind, and I’m—” I swallow, biting on the inside of my cheek.
He clasps my shoulders with soft hands, and I force my eyes to stay on
his when I want to look away. “It’s okay to be afraid, Payton. Or even a
little sad. We have, what?” he smiles softly. “Eight months to figure it out,
at least?”
Wrong. How do I tell him I’ve known for over a month now, having
suspected even longer but was too afraid to find out for sure? Because of
the extensive workout plan and stress of my day-to-day life, both thanks to
my mother, it was normal for me to skip a month or two of my cycle. I
thought nothing of it until that third month rolled around and the box of
tampons I’d restocked still sat unopened under the sink. He couldn’t have
guessed any of this, though, as my body hasn’t changed much, so it’s been
nothing a sweater or flowy sundress couldn’t hide. And I did hide it.
Swallowing, I pull back, putting a little space between us but keeping
our hands connected.
This is the hardest part.
The real part I was afraid of and the reason that I was avoiding him.
That I ran.
I meet his gaze and speak the words I’ve been desperate to hide, maybe
even from myself.
“That’s the thing,” I whisper shakily. “I don’t know if I want to figure it
out, Deaton. I…don’t know if I’m keeping the baby.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SIX

PAYTON

N ow , J uly 4

I t ’ s late , the visitors have gone , and D eaton is fast asleep in his
crib.
For the last couple of hours, the rest of us have shuffled between
huddling around the firepit and squeezing in at the patio picnic table turned
game table. Stacked quarters sit in front of us, a small cup full resting in the
middle, as we close out our third round of left, right, center, and my right
knee’s bouncing spreads to my left.
Tension tugs at my chest, anxiety building at a slow yet steady place,
only this time it doesn’t break when I finally give in and tap the screen of
my phone for the hundredth time. With the end of every game, the night
closes in, the digital clock reading five after ten.
The day is almost over. Gone.
How are things here and then gone in the blink of an eye? In the pass of
a single second? Poof. No more.
I swallow, trying not to draw attention to myself as I attempt to breath
through my nose and out through my mouth, but it doesn’t help.
 I’m suffocating.
Most of us stand, stretching or refilling cups, but I wait for their backs
to turn, taking the opportunity to step away. Pushing onto shaky legs, I
move toward my brother, take his hand, and gently set the baby monitor in
his palm.
He looks at me with concern, but a quick squeeze of his fingers is all I
can give.
Panicked and unable to catch a full breath, I clutch my phone in my fist,
running down the deck stairs and onto the sand.
Ari and Noah are in their own little world, cuddled by the fire, but both
jerk my way when I hurry past.
“Payton?” she calls, but I keep running, down the side of the house and
toward the front, across the grass and onto the sidewalk.
I pause there in the shadows, gripping my head and squeezing my eyes
closed as tears threaten to take me under, to drown me.
My jaw is clenched tight, and I tug on the strings of my hoodie, letting it
bite into my neck as I drop my head back, welcoming the cold air against
my clammy skin.
Headlights flick on, and I jolt, eyes narrowing when they flash a second
time.
I sniffle, swiping my cheeks with my sleeves and run over to the old red
truck sitting idling at the curb. Curling my fingers over the edge of the
windowsill, eyes the color of emeralds meet mine.
“Where are you going?” I blurt out before he can ask me what’s wrong.
Chase visibly winces, looking out the windshield at the road ahead. “Is
it bad if I say anywhere but here?” Slowly, he faces my way.
I know that look. It mirrors one of mine.
My shoulders fall a little, and I offer a small smile. Chase is waiting for
me to question him, to ask if the reason he would rather be anywhere but
here has anything to do with a certain couple sitting by the fire that he may
or may not be able to handle seeing together.
Not everyone knows how important it can be to dodge a question.
Sometimes it’s the only thing keeping that final string from snapping and
leaving behind a welt you can’t hide. So no, I don’t ask him any of that,
saying instead, “Is it bad if I want to go with you?”
Chase stares a moment, and then he reaches across the cab, pushing
open the door in invitation.
 I don’t hesitate, not when I know Deaton is safe and sound, asleep in his
crib with my brother watching over him. I climb in the cab, buckle my seat
belt, and meet his gaze.
He tips his head. “Where do you want to go?”
A grin pulls at my lips, my limbs suddenly feeling ten pounds lighter
with the promise of an escape. “Anywhere but here.”
Chase chuckles, tosses me the blanket he pulls from behind his seat, and
puts the truck in drive. He doesn’t tell me where we’re headed, and
honestly, I’m not sure he even knows, but I don’t care.
I’m along for the ride either way.
Just as we’re pulling away, a flash of something catches my eye. I turn,
glancing toward the house as we roll past, and there he is.
Mason stands at the edge of the house, a can of cream soda hanging
from his fingertips…eyes on me.
My head snaps forward so fast, I know Chase notices.
Whether he sees Mason or not, he doesn’t say.
He doesn’t stop either. Instead, his foot hits the gas a little harder,
leading farther down the road.
The streets are lively tonight, the usually dark sky lit by bonfires, string
lights, and cell phone flashes. The people of Oceanside, both young and old,
enjoying the last holiday of the summer before most go back to their
normal, everyday lives. People run the roads barefoot, dragging wagons
stuffed with ice chests, blankets, toddlers, and dogs. One guy is even rolling
a keg around, his friends laughing and helping push it from behind but
tripping over one another, liquid spilling from their plastic cups.
Chase and I both chuckle at the sight and end up sitting at the stop sign
for almost three minutes, just waiting for a chance to turn among the crowd.
“Looks like the beach is clearing out,” I comment, a strange mix of
numbness and relief settling over my bones. “I wonder if we’ll see a bunch
of people packing up to go home tomorrow.”
Chase glances over with a grin. “Aw, she’s a real ocean girl now? Tired
of sharing the beach with drunk college kids and screaming babies—”
Chase clamps his mouth closed so fast I can’t help but laugh. He looks
away, rubbing the back of his head, short brown strands sliding along his
fingers. At the light, he finally looks back. “I’m sorry. That was…shit.”
“Don’t worry about it.” My lips turn up slightly, and I pull the blanket
up to my neck, watching the small shops as we go by. “Because you’re
absolutely right. The lungs on some of those babies, I’d pull my hair out.”
Chase and I share a smile, and then he reaches forward, turning up the
music.
I sit back, humming along to the music that fills the cab. When we pick
up a little speed and the wind hits my face a little harder, I don’t roll the
window up.
I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, and I don’t open them until
Chase kills the engine.
My eyes slide his way as he unbuckles and starts to climb out, so I do
the same, following him around back.
He pulls the tailgate down as my eyes move across the giant field ahead,
where some people are scattered across what looks to be several hundred
yards or more of grass.
“This is where the fireworks show was tonight,” he tells me as he sits.
“I thought maybe we’d catch the grand finale at least, but I guess it’s later
than I realized.”
Apparently, fireworks are illegal in Oceanside, and from what Ari said,
there’s usually a dedicated spot where the city will put on a safe showing
for the townspeople. I guess this was it this year.
“Why didn’t we come tonight to watch?” I glance back, and he pats the
spot beside him, so I hop up, settling on the chilled metal.
“Probably because we’re all grown now.” He shrugs, then looks to me
with a smile. “Next year, though, I’d bet money we’re the first at the show
if Sarah or Viv have any say.”
Warmth blossoms in my chest. Not only at the thought of the love my
friend’s parents have for Deaton but the fact that he and I are so effortlessly
included in plans that don’t even exist yet.
Smiling to myself, I look out over the space. “I wonder if he’ll like all
the colors but hate the loud booms that come with them.”
“If he does…” Chase reaches behind him, revealing a small plastic bag I
didn’t see him grab from the truck. “We go to plan B.”
A small frown builds along my brow, and I watch, curious, as he pulls a
long rectangular box out with one hand, revealing a lighter in the other.
A low laugh leaves me, and I hold my hand out, tearing into the thin
cardboard after he slaps it into my palm.
I pull out two, holding them past my dangling legs, and he leans
forward, lighting the paper ends. Once it catches and green and red sparks
start to shoot from the end, I pass one his way.
Chase spins his in circles, making shapes with the smoke, and I do the
same, my muscles relaxing even more. He must notice as he looks over
then.
“See?” His grin is proud. “Everyone likes a sparkler.”
“These were my favorite when I was little,” I share. “My dad would
always make a big deal of the holiday. He’d buy me one of those wire
garland crowns, you know, the kind with ribbons that hung almost to the
floor, and when he put it on my head, he’d bow like I was some kind of
princess waving around a scepter of sorts. I’d pretend to cast spells and
make Parker my minion.” I smile at the memory, but a frown quickly
washes it away. “That’s probably why my mom refused to buy fireworks of
any kind once they separated. She’d usually just…tell us to go down the
road and watch the neighbors’” A second, more spiteful smile pulls at my
lips as I reach into the box in my lap. “Serves her right. Deaton lived down
the street then.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, my muscles lock, and I try not
to look at Chase but do it anyway. I wait for the hint of pity to draw his
features in, but it never comes.
He just…smiles.
“Yeah?” he asks. “That how you two got close?”
Biting into my lower lip, I face forward. “That’s sort of how it started,
yeah.” I spin the stick between my thumb and pointer finger, glancing his
way. “So, you excited to get back to school soon?” I say to change the
subject.
He shrugs at the same time as he nods, and when he looks over, I laugh.
“What?” he wonders.
I mimic his movement, down to the faint scowl he had on his face, and
Chase bumps my shoulder playfully.
After a moment, he sighs loudly. “We’ve been in training camps with
the team on and off all summer, and technically me and the guys have been
back on campus for weeks now since coach talked us into summer classes.”
He shrugs again. “I just don’t feel like I’ve had much of a break, you know?
I can’t say I’m not happy for the distraction.” He tenses a moment, gaze
flicking my way as if he said that by mistake.
When I don’t react, he keeps going.
 “The end of the school year was always when I felt like I could breathe
a bit. Like whatever was going on was finally over and there was a fresh
start. But this summer was…different.” He looks away then, glaring at
nothing ahead of us. “I knew last year would be my last real summer. We all
talked about it enough, that’s for sure, but man. It hits different when you
realize it’s even further from what you expected it to be. It kind of feels like
the year that was supposed to fly by just won’t end, you know?” He cuts a
quick glance from the corner of his eye.
I swallow, my eyes moving between his, because, man, do I feel that
deep in my bones.
Last summer, I was secretly four months pregnant, ran away from
home, and found a new one here. I was going to have a baby with my high
school boyfriend. Now, that boyfriend is dead, and my son is nearly eight
months old.
Chase looks away, and I wonder what caused the obvious ache in his
eyes.
Is it just that he is in love with Ari, his best friend’s twin sister who’s
now in love with someone else, or is there something more going on he
hasn’t shared?
I don’t know, but what I do know is not to ask people questions they
clearly don’t want to answer, so I dig into the box once more and light two
fresh sparklers, holding his out with a small bow.
“For you, prince of pigskin.”
Chase grins, taking my offering. “Why, thank you, princess of⁠—”
“Puke?”
Chase looks at me horrified, but when I smile wide, tugging out the bib
I forgot I had stuffed in my hoodie pocket, we both end up laughing.
We light a few more, drawing our names in the road with the ends,
knowing it will fade into nothing in no time. At some point, we move
farther into the bed of the truck, our legs stretched out and heads resting
against the window behind us.
The quiet is nice, something I’ve missed amid the crazy but at the same
time do my best to avoid because quiet brings peace, peace brings thoughts,
and all my thoughts roll together in one giant, spiky lump of regret that
seems to live in my gut.
My phone alarm beeps, breaking the comfortable silence we fell into,
and I wince as I blindly press the button to cut off the piercing sound.
 Chase says nothing, letting me decide if I want to talk about why my
alarm is set for twelve a.m. on the dot.
I don’t. I haven’t said a word to anyone about where my mind has been.
In fact, I’ve gone to ridiculous lengths to avoid it, so I have no idea why my
next words leave my lips. Maybe it’s because he didn’t pity me earlier. I
don’t know. Still, the truth tumbles out in a voice so low, I scowl.
“This was the last holiday he had. Which makes it my last first holiday
without him.” As my whispers settle between us, a huffed sigh slips past my
lips. “That probably sounds so dumb. It’s not like I’m an eighty-year-old
woman who shared half her life with someone and then lost him.”
“Forty years or four months, it makes no difference.” Chase is frowning
at the night when I turn. “It hurts either way.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, staring at his profile. “Love sucks.”
His laughter is low, and slowly, he looks over, his green gaze holding a
moment before he reaches out, throwing his arm around my shoulder.
“Yeah, princess. It does.”
I lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.
We don’t stay much longer, making it back to my house a lot faster now
that the roads are clear and nothing but the crash of the waves can be heard
in the distance.
I smile as I pull the handle and climb out, closing the door behind me.
“Hey, Payton?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I meet his gaze through the open window.
“Just so you know,” he begins. “It’s okay not to be okay…even if it’s
not for the reason everyone thinks.”
I hold his gaze a moment and slowly nod. “You know, I think you might
be the first person who has ever said that to me.”
“It’s true.”
My mouth curves slightly, and Chase nods back, his truck sitting there
idling as I turn and walk away.
I put the code in the door and tiptoe down the hall. My son’s bedroom
door is open, so I slip inside and gently lift him from his crib and into my
arms, turning off the monitor.
He stretches a bit but doesn’t wake, instead tucking his little hands
between my chest and his as I carry him across the hall and into my room. I
don’t bother changing, just climb into bed, gently laying him beside me and
sliding my finger between his. He squeezes slightly, his lips parted as he
sleeps, and a small smile pulls at my lips as I stare at my dark curly-haired
baby boy.
“Happy Fourth of July, Deaton,” I whisper into the night, unsure if I’m
speaking to him or to the boy who didn’t get to live to today.
Maybe both.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SEVEN

PAYTON

N ow , J uly 5

C amera in my hands , I tentatively pull the memory card free ,

sliding it into the slot on my PC. The import screen pops up, and with it, my
heart jolts in my rib cage.
During my internship, I was clearing and uploading every couple of
days, but this particular memory card has remained inside its slot for several
months now. Since May.
Since my little trip to a certain college a couple of hours away…
Distractions. Today is about distraction.
Swallowing, I click the large “yes” on the screen, swiftly turning away
so I don’t have to see the images as they flash there in rapid succession.
I focus on my bag of accessories, taking out my small traveling tripod
and setting it up to make sure nothing’s broken or missing. I clean my
lenses and sensor, attaching each piece and then detaching before placing
them back into their designated slots.
It’s ten after twelve in the afternoon, and I know little mister will be
waking up from his nap any moment, so I hurry and finish packing up my
camera bag, adding in all the necessities that I’ve discovered I need along
the way. My internship at Embers Elite this past year taught me a lot, one
very important thing being I’m pretty worthless when I’m lacking in sugars.
So on that note, I add a few small packs of chocolate-covered almonds to
the side pouch, some tissues, ChapStick, and superglue to the other.
It was my first assignment as the newest member of the sports
photography team when I discovered superglue could be my best friend on
the field. There’s nothing worse than when you’re awkwardly bent, lying
against the grass, or raised in the air, however the heck you manage that,
and you break something you can’t piece back together. Sure, the superglue
destroys it and you’re still screwed later, forced to replace the part
regardless, but at least at the end of the day, you got the shot you came for.
And when you’re hanging around, sometimes literally, a six-foot, three-
hundred-pound lineman for that money shot, things are bound to break.
Today will be different, though. I’m not headed to a field where I’ll be
taking pictures of athletes but instead under what I imagine will be dainty
string lights or glowing fluorescent ones to set the ambiance in a romantic
glow.
I’ll be following the happy couple with my lens from every corner of
the room, catching what they believe to be private moments between the
two. I’ll freeze them in time, and down the road, when they look back at the
images of them whispering to each other, they’ll remember their little
secret.
Mason was my little secret.
Okay. So not really a distraction for me but in fact a horrible idea.
A laugh escapes, and I run a hand over my long ponytail. “What the hell
was I thinking?”
Deaton’s soft, baby gibberish sounds at the perfect time, and when I
look at the little screen, seeing he’s awake, I practically run from the room,
happy to lose myself in him for the next few hours.
As I enter, he looks up with blue eyes that mirror mine and shows off a
mouth full of gums as he smiles.
“Well, hello, little man.” I reach in, allowing him to latch his fists over
my pointer fingers so he can use his own strength to pull himself into a
standing position. I transfer his hands to the edge of the crib, bending down
so we’re face-to-face. “Did someone have a good nap?”
 He presses his forehead to mine, making the sweetest little baby sounds
as he starts to jump.
Smiling, I turn back to the changing table and pull out a fresh diaper and
wipes. As I go to take him into my arms, he drops onto his butt, reaching for
his plush toy. I tense, watching as he hugs the little football to his chest,
pressing his cheek into the soft side of it. He looks up, his big blue eyes
fully slanted at the side. His smile is so wide and sudden, a soft, sob-laced
laugh leaves me.
He’s just so happy all the time, completely oblivious to the battles that
go on inside my head, just as I hoped he would be. When I’m with him, I
block out everything else. It might not be the best coping mechanism,
attaching his every waking moment I can to my hip, but it works. Sure, I’ve
basically taken independent play off the table, but he is learning how to
entertain himself, if only little by little. For now, I don’t think it matters.
He’s growing and curious about his little world, and in my arms is
where he gets to explore. He can see all the things I see and touch all the
things his little arm is long enough to reach. He loves being everywhere I
am.
I must be doing something right, right?
Warmth blooms in my chest, and a bittersweet sigh slips. I take him and
the football into my arms, my eyes instantly falling to the signatures on the
side.
Lolli is the one who bought the plush, and as a joke, Nate signed it
before giving it to him.
Lowering him onto the changing mat, I tickle his belly as I quickly
unsnap his onesie, my eyes falling to the bright red ink, scribbled large and
purposely swallowing the name beneath it.
Yes, the moment Mason spotted Deaton’s new plush, he scowled and
started digging through the kitchen drawers, coming back with a Sharpie in
his hands. He signed right over the top of Nate’s name, passing it back to
Deaton with a satisfied smile.
He said not a word before or after, and neither did I, but I was laughing
on the inside.
“Silly man, huh, baby boy?” I whisper, pretending I don’t hear the ache
in my own voice as I make quick work of getting him changed and into a
pair of bottoms. “Okay. What do you say we go for a little walk and have
lunch on the pier?”
 Deaton squeaks as if he understands, and I lift him into the air, spinning
as I carry him from the room.
Parker and Kenra are lounging on the couch when I walk out, both
glancing back with a smile.
“You headed out?” my brother asks.
“Yeah, I’m going to take him on a walk and maybe down to the water
before Ari comes for him later.”
“Is she keeping him at their place?”
I nod. “Yeah, for the early part of the evening, but they’re coming back
here for bedtime.”
“You know we can keep him, Peep.” My brother looks to me.
“I know, but she’s been asking, so I thought I’d give you guys a break.”
Parker frowns, but not in an angry sort of way. “You never leave him
with us, Payton. After bed, he’s out like a light, so it’s not even babysitting,
and you’ve only done that twice in the past several months…and both were
this week.” He watches me closely, clearly detecting I’m off my game now
that he’s been home longer than his usual one- to two-day breaks. “You
know we do want to hang out with him, right?”
I offer a small smile, nodding. “I know, and if she lets you, you can
keep him up as long as his little eyes allow once she comes back with him.”
Kenra scoffs, and I share a smile with her. Fat chance Ari will share
once she has him.
Grabbing some squashable baby food, a snack pack, and a water, I toss
it all in the diaper bag. I fill Deaton’s sippy cup with half water, half pear
juice and cross my fingers today is the day he figures out how to drink out
of it instead of just using it as a teething toy, so then I grab a bottle just in
case.
Parker has the stroller out and ready for me by the time I reach the door,
and I buckle the little man inside.
We’re out the front door and strolling down the street in seconds.
The sun is warm against my skin, and I welcome the glow.
We walk for a half mile, and I hold my breath as we reach the stop sign
at the end. Mason and the others’ beach house is just across from it, familiar
cars sitting in the driveway.
I gnaw on my inner cheek. It would be rude to walk past without saying
hello and awkward if I tried and they spotted me out the front windows.
 My decision is made for me when a horn beeps behind me, and I look
back to spot Noah pulling up against the curb.
He smiles and hops out, his oldest friend, Paige, climbing out the
passenger side door.
He walks over, smiling wide as he lowers in front of the stroller. “Hey,
buddy. Did you come to play with your favorite friend?”
I laugh and he looks up with a grin, but only for a second, his hand
outstretched to Deaton.
“High five,” he encourages, lifting Deaton’s hand and slapping it into
his own so it makes a light clapping sound.
Deaton kicks his feet excitedly, drool dripping from his lips.
Noah smiles softly, his eyes holding my little boy for a few silent
moments before he clears his throat and pushes to stand. “Here, let me help
get him inside,” he offers.
“Oh, no, I’m not dropping him off yet. We’re having a little mom and
son day first.”
“Isn’t every day a mom and son day?” Paige teases, stepping up to wrap
me in a quick hug. “Hey, girlie.” She smiles sweetly.
“I heard you rented a studio down the street. Congratulations.”
Paige shrugs like it’s no big deal, but the blush on her cheeks says
otherwise. “I want to turn it into a rec center, but I have to figure out all the
ins and outs. Until then, private lessons on the weekends will cover the
bills.” She laughs.
Noah smiles, glancing from the front door to me. “You realize if she
finds out you walked by and didn’t come in, she’s going to be sad. Not sure
I can have that.” He’s teasing, but he’s also not wrong.
“Just remind her she’s picking him up at six thirty, and I think she’ll be
okay.”
Noah sighs dramatically but grins afterward. “Come on, Paige. Let’s go
break my girl’s heart.”
I wave and walk away as quickly as possible, turning down a side street
that takes me in the wrong direction, but it’s better than someone catching
up to me.
I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I need some time with just
me and Deaton.
Especially today. The fifth of July.
The day he arrived in Oceanside exactly one year ago.
 He only came here because of me.
I am the reason he’s dead.

Y ou must really enjoy torturing yourself .

That’s the unwelcome thought that bursts through my brain the moment
I step from the car and onto the beautiful rocky winding path. It’s lined with
lilies the color of pomegranates, each bundle tucked gently into little silver
vases, lilac ribbons tied around the centers. The flowers lead to a massive
arched doorway that’s propped open, revealing an even bigger hall in the
center, more lilies trailing down each side.
The man at the door smiles and greets me, extending his arm out to
welcome me inside, but before I can step through, an older woman rushes
out and latches on to my wrist, dragging me forward.
“Oh, thank goodness! We’re thrilled you could make it. Everyone has
just taken their seats, and dinner’s being served. There is a seat and plate for
you as well. I hope you like salmon. I’m Evelyn, by the way. Mother of the
groom.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Payton.”
“Yes, we heard so much about you. I tell you, Mia has been a lifesaver.”
She leads us through a side door that takes us through the kitchen, and I
smile politely as we slip past the chefs hard at work with what looks like a
dessert course. As we step through the swinging doors and into the
reception area, my feet slow of their own accord until I’ve fully stopped,
gawking at the wide-open space.
Fifteen to twenty round tables litter the floor, leaving a bit of space open
in the center, likely for the bride and groom’s first dance or to view the
wedding party table that sits up higher than the rest. Glass vases of different
heights rest in the center of each one; lilies, this time white, burst within
them, sitting on a bed of what looks like diamonds. There doesn’t seem to
be an open seat in the place. There’s a charge of happiness in the air, and
when I glance up at the wedding party table, finding the bride and groom
tilted toward each other, moisture builds in my eyes.
I don’t realize I’m taking backward steps until Evelyn turns to me and
tips her head.
 “Did you leave something in the car, hon? I can ask the doorman to
retrieve it for you.”
Clearing my throat, I do my best not to give away the panic rising
within me. “No, I was going to go ahead and pull my camera out here and
sneak some shots as I make my way around the room.”
“Perfect!” The woman claps in delight. “There’s a name tag and a seat
for you in the front right corner.”
I thank her again and turn to the side, then busy myself in my bag in
hopes that she goes back to enjoying the party. She does, and I suck in a
breath of relief, pressing my back against the dark corner of the wall and
taking a moment to breathe.
It’s fine. You’re fine. Everything is fine.
It’s not like a wedding is something I’ve ever thought about before. At
no point in my childhood did I sit around and plan for my own, so this
should be simple. Easy.
I’m here to do what I love, and I’m going to do it well, because despite
how fucked-up I am in the head right now, I know I’m good at this.
This I can do without ruining everything.
Jesus, projecting much?
Oh my god, okay. Snap out of it.
I can do this.
So I reach for the numb switch in the back of my brain, flick it on, and
get my ass to work.
Surprisingly, the evening goes by in a blur, and even more
unexpectedly, I’m having a great time, smiling at the crowds as I make my
way through, taking shot after shot of everything I think will be a warm
memory.
Ten o’clock rolls around, and I note nearly all the older family members
have called it a night, leaving what appears to be the bride and groom’s
friends, or maybe cousins or siblings as they all seem to be around the same
age. As if it were the plan all along, this is when the real party begins.
The guests go crazy when the bride reappears in a shorter, slinkier white
dress, and even the music ramps up to what I imagine one would hear in a
nightclub downtown.
Alcohol flows faster, people get louder, and I already know these will be
the photos that make the newlyweds laugh when I send over the files in a
couple of weeks.
 Before I can exit the dance floor, a guy with blond hair grabs my free
hand and spins me around, laughing all the while. He’s not kind of rude or
sloppy but clearly intoxicated and having a good-ass time, so much so his
mood is infectious. I can’t help the smile that breaks across my lips, and I
give in for the remainder of the song, dancing like nothing else matters.
The song ends pretty quickly, and he gives a drunken bow before
turning toward the bar.
As I make my way toward my designated seat, I catch a glimpse of red.
My head jerks to the left to find Mia showed up after all.
She’s all dolled up and glancing around the room, so I jump from my
seat and rush over, but before she sees me, her ex sees her, instantly
commandeering her attention.
Sneakily, I raise my camera at the two, grinning at how obvious they
are.
They are 100 percent making up tonight.
“I could have called that.” His whisper warms my skin, rolling over my
ear and down my neck like an uncontrollable heat wave.
My eyes are still pointed through the lens, every muscle in my body
going tense. It takes effort, but I manage to slowly bring the camera down,
tucking it to my chest as if to shield what beats beneath it.
He steps around, my eyes and only my eyes slicing to the left the
moment he becomes visible in my periphery, tracking his body as he places
it right before me.
As if suddenly starved and aware of what they wish to be fed, my lungs
expand with a full breath made up of nothing but Mason freaking Johnson.
My attention immediately falls to the wide stretch of his shoulders.
He’s wearing a button-up shirt and slacks, both a charcoal gray in color.
He has the top button undone and the sleeves cuffed just right. That dark
hair of his is perfectly messy on top of his head, and his fade is as fresh as
always. He is handsome and flawless as ever.
And he’s waiting for me to look up, so finally, I do.
Deep brown eyes lock with mine, and he smiles, a smile that widens as
he looks at the item pressed between us, and I kind of want to run, though
my feet don’t seem to agree.
“I’m so damn happy for you,” he murmurs, moving closer, and I
subconsciously turn my head into his hand when he reaches up to tuck my
hair behind my ear.
 It’s curled today, the top half held up high with a small rubber band, two
long tresses left out in front and curled to match the rest. I’m wearing a tan
dress, one of my old ones that’s made of stretchy material, even if it was
designed to be loose, and I layered an ivory sweater over it in an attempt to
hide the fact that the seams are threatening to burst. If they haven’t already.
A loud squeal sounds, and I blink out of the moment, looking from
Mason to find Cameron, Brady, and Chase walking up, all dressed to
impress.
“God, this is gorgeous!” Cameron beams, hugging me quickly before
tossing her arms around Brady and Chase. “How do my dates look? Hot,
right? I told them I would cockblock all night long if they ditched me
before I found a single man of my own in here to keep me company.”
“You are not finding a random man to do a damn thing.” Brady glares,
but Cameron just pushes up on her toes, her lips pressing to Chase’s then
Brady’s cheek.
I swiftly snap a photo, laughing at her brand of crazy. “What are you
guys doing here?”
Cameron shrugs. “Austin called a couple of hours ago and said the
groom was ready to get out of here but didn’t want the open bar to go to
waste, so I guess the wedding party called some friends. There’s a few more
cars pulling up.” She looks around, spots the bar, and promptly drags both
Chase and Brady away. “K love you, bye! We’re getting drinks before the
line gets long!”
Chase gives me a playful eye roll as he walks away, and I smile, looking
back to Mason.
Before I can say anything, I catch a glimpse of the bride past his
shoulder, and sure enough, she’s tucked under her husband’s arm, sneaking
toward the door.
I sidestep Mason and bend down on one knee. I get their shoes, peeking
out between their guests on the dance floor. I get their hands tangled
together and the kiss he presses to her knuckle. I even get the quick ass
squeeze he thought no one saw, and just before they meet the opening to the
hall, I shift a little more, catching their departure at an angle that opens up
the shot to a full view of the room.
And then they’re gone, and a long sigh escapes.
Mason’s hand slides into my view, and I look up at him with a smile I
can’t contain. It must be a cheesy one, because he chuckles as he tugs me to
my feet.
“You look happy,” he says so softly, so torn by the idea as he reaches
out, his knuckles brushing my cheek.
Tingles erupt over my skin, and my chin falls to my chest. “Mase…”
So many unspoken words hang between us, but when the song changes,
a low, rumbling tempo taking over, the only ones that leave his mouth are
three words that have left his lips before.
“Dance with me.”
My head snaps up.
Dark brown eyes stare down at me. He’s smiling easily now, but the
uncertainty in his gaze isn’t missed.
I shouldn’t. I should make an excuse and walk away, so why do I set the
camera down on my chair and offer him my hand when he’s yet to extend
his?
You know why…
The smile that curves his lips makes the decision worth it, and I can’t
help but laugh when he tugs me forward, spinning me silly until we’re on
the farthest, darkest edge of the dance floor.
Smirking, he tucks me in close, and my arms go around his neck in a
practiced move, my wrists resting high on his shoulders. We sway silently,
and before I realize it, my eyes are closed, and my head is pressed against
his chest.
His heartbeat thunders against my cheek, and I breathe deeply,
pretending we’re in a different time and place altogether.
A place without guilt or fear or regret.
That place does not exist.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER EIGHT

MASON

B efore , J uly

A s soon as the gang is sitting down , the food spread out along the
table, I step up to the end of it. “So, plan for tonight.” I clap my hands,
making sure everyone’s paying attention, but quickly point my focus to the
tiny blond. My smile spreads slowly. “Pretty Little here has never been on a
walk on the beach at night. That’s a crime. So I wanna take her.”
A smile tugs at her lips, and her man whips his head my way. He glares,
and I wink at the little fucker. I don’t know why, but I kind of enjoy
messing with him, but there is a point to it. I gotta see how he reacts.
Will he be as douchey as his khaki shorts and collared shirt?
Will he slide right into our crew like he was born to be there the way the
girl under his arm has?
I scoff to myself. Doubtful.
But if she likes him, I probably will, too. Maybe.
Not that I’ll tell him that.
The little laugh that leaves Payton tells me his scowl isn’t a constant
thing, but she did run away to California without telling him and ignored
his calls for a week, so it makes sense. At least he cares enough about her to
show up. I should give him points for that.
Nah. Still don’t like him much.
I glare right back, fucking with him some more. “Guess you can come.
If you can keep your hands to yourself.” I look pointedly at his arm around
her shoulder.
“Mason,” Parker warns, already fully used to my shit. He’s hot for my
cousin, after all.
“My hands stay where they belong—on her. And I’ll take her on that
walk, but you’re welcome to come if you feel like showing us around.”
Huh. Okay, he’s got balls.
Jury is still out on how big.
I look to Payton, who tries to hide a shocked smile against his puny
chest.
“All right, kid.” I fight a grin when his eyes narrow at the word kid.
“You’ve got sport. We’ll play your way for a while.”
Ari sighs and taps his shoulder. “Sorry, Deaton. But you’re screwed.
When Mason decides he cares, he’s a thousand percent. No chill factor.
Sorry to say…but he never lets up.”
Everyone looks my way, so I force a grin. “She’s my sister from another
mister,” I pop off, clearing my throat after. That was a stupid thing to say,
but whatever. It’s probably true anyway. That’s how things are with
Cameron. She’s Ari’s best friend, therefore she’s family. Can’t let anyone
fuck with family.
“How old are you?” Chase pipes up, staring at Deaton with a blank
expression.
I smack Chase’s arm, nodding my approval at his question, and join in
on the glaring.
“Seventeen,” Deaton answers, unbothered by all the third degree he’s
been getting since he arrived in town.
Parker never got on our asses about the whole taking him down in the
sand thing, so it’s safe to say they didn’t tell him. Probably too
embarrassing for him, getting blindsided like that.
The dude should really pay attention to his surroundings. It’s no wonder
he’s a wrestler and not a football player. He probably can’t handle focusing
on more than one person at a time.
“She’s sixteen.” Chase frowns.
 Almost seventeen…
“I’m aware.” Deaton pulls her closer. “Been in love with her since she
was thirteen.”
Chase nods, glancing over at Payton a moment before looking away.
But what the fuck, in love since thirteen? Ain’t no way…is there?
The only thing I loved at thirteen was my PlayStation remote, pizza, and
football.
I eye the pair curiously, and I don’t realize my head is cocked as I stare
until my sister’s hand comes across the back of my skull, knocking me out
of it.
I grin her way, and she rolls her eyes.
Oh yeah, and I love my family, but my sister the most. She’s the be-all
and end-all of my existence. My only purpose outside of football.
Without the two, I’d just be a dickhead who laughs when he’s stressed
and smiles when he wants to punch something but can’t. Ari is the softness
I don’t have but wish I did.
That’s okay, though. It just means when life is tough, I get to be the rock
she needs.
And I need to be needed.
Maybe it’s a brother thing or a twin thing. Maybe it’s just a me thing,
but I don’t do well when I’m optional. It’s why I was the best high school
quarterback in the state two years running.
You don’t need a backup quarterback. The position exists as a
precaution, a just in case, and yeah, more often than not, that backup straps
in and hits the field a handful of times a season, but the starter?
That number one slot?
You need that fucker.
And all my life, that fucker has been me because I make sure it is. I bust
my ass all year long so there is never a doubt in anyone’s mind.
“Okay, they’re all overprotective fools, nothing new. Now, can we eat?”
Cameron whines.
Everyone gets seated, and I quickly squeeze my ass into the seat right
across from the happy little couple.
I stare at her until she looks up, then smile around a mouthful of burger.
“So, Deaton, where did you sleep last night?”
My sister slaps her forehead, and the others groan. But Payton?
Payton shakes her head, a small smile she tries to hide around her fork.
 Satisfaction flickers through me, and I settle into my seat.
Mission accomplished.

Payton

E veryone is chatting among themselves as we follow the path of

the sand closer to the pier. Mason and Lolli had been dying to go on that
walk he talked about all day and finally got it started. Not sure why he’s so
excited, but maybe he just really wants ice cream like Lolli does. We’ve
been walking for about ten minutes now, and she’s mentioned it twice
already.
I look down at my hand, fingers laced with Deaton’s, a tension between
us that’s not normally there. He keeps peeking at me from the corner of his
eye, so I give in and face him with what I hope is a reassuring smile.
“I love you, you know,” I whisper, and Deaton looks over at me with
kind eyes.
“I know.” He presses a kiss to my cheek, and we both face forward.
Things between us feel a little fractured, which scares me.
For years, he’s all I’ve had. My brother moved in with my dad, and my
mom refused to allow me to see him, and then he didn’t fight to make sure
he could. Then she ran off my friends and did her best to do the same with
Deaton, so it’s been hard.
He’s been the only person I could lean on for so long, my best friend,
and it feels unnatural for us to have colliding mindsets. I know it’s my fault
and he’s just worried. I also know the longer I avoid the conversation he’s
dying to have, the worse it will likely get, but I sort of dropped two giant
bombs on him in one day, and I’m a little afraid to find out if I’m the one
holding the detonator or if he is.
I need more time, and while I want to be pissed that he doesn’t want to
waste another second, I can’t be. As much as I don’t want to talk, I get why
he needs to, but unfortunately that doesn’t make it any easier. Even now, in
a group of ten or so, he keeps trying to whisper things, and I keep jumping
into other people’s conversations to avoid answering.
 It’s obvious as hell, but he doesn’t call me out, just shifts his arm to rest
on my shoulder instead.
The chatting of the others continues as we near the pier, the night
growing louder around us when Mason jumps ahead, forcing us all to pause
where we stand so he can have center stage.
“Ah shit.” Mason claps, a glint in his eyes when they find mine, and
somehow, I know he’s coming for me before he even moves. He is facing
us, the festivities a few yards behind him, and his attention moves on to
Deaton. “All right, big D—that’s for Deaton, so don’t be getting a big
head.”
Oh my god. A blush heats my cheeks instantly, and when Mason spots
it, his grin grows, so I drop my gaze to the sand.
“Lemme steal your girl for a minute.” Mason motions to the band taking
the small stage. “Promise I’ll give her back. I just want all the credit for this
one.”
“Maybe you should back off a bit, Mason.” Chase frowns, the others
shooting looks his way.
His best friend glares at him, but he dismisses him quickly when
Deaton’s arm drops from my shoulder.
“Nah, man. It’s cool.” His soft hand folds into mine, and he pulls it to
his lips, kissing my knuckles. “If she wants to, she can, obviously. But I
appreciate you not being a dick for once.”
I smile at Deaton, knowing I’m the only person aware he’s so far from
the possessive type it’s not even funny. He’s enjoying playing with Mason,
and I think it’s adorable.
My brother’s little friend group is kind of intimidating, even for me.
They’re all super close and from what I can tell, in each other’s business but
not in a shitty, judgy way. In fact, it seems to be the opposite, but who
knows? Maybe they all talk shit about each other behind one another’s
backs.
Yeah, that seems more realistic…or maybe you’re just so used to shitty
people you don’t know how to spot good ones?
I swallow, refocusing.
Deaton looks to me when I remain silent, so I plaster a fake smile on my
face, hating how my thoughts and experiences always slacken the rope I’m
forever climbing, putting even more distance between me and the rest of the
world no matter how desperately I try to climb to its top.
 Thankfully, Deaton is on the same side of that wall as I am. It’s why he
and I work so well. It’s how we connected, alone and searching for a way
out.
Pushing onto my toes, I kiss his cheek, muscles tensing as his fingers
skim over the exposed skin of my stomach. Baby.
There’s a baby in there.
Our baby.
Oh my god, I’m sixteen and pregnant.
Our eyes lock, and a softness falls over his, one that has panic rising in
my throat, but then Mason’s hand slides into view. Slowly, I tear my gaze
from Deaton’s to meet his.
Mason lets out a low chuckle, tipping his head with a grin that draws a
small smile to my own lips. “You with me?” he asks, and I get the sense he
can see it, my need for an escape.
I sweep a hand toward the band, and the two of us fall in step together.
“Hey, Mason!” Deaton calls not five seconds after we break from the
others. We glance back, and Deaton’s eyes lock with mine. “You got my
family in your hands.”
My lips part, my heart pounding wildly. That burning sensation I hate
pricks at the backs of my eyes, so I slowly face forward, breaking the
connection, and after a silent moment, Mason does the same.
I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I don’t care enough to ask, and we
don’t speak as we move closer to the giant circle of string lights and
laughter. The band members have taken their spots behind the mics, and as
the song playing ends, the DJ welcomes them back to the makeshift stage.
They waste no time before strumming on their guitars, playing an
acoustic version of “Feels” by Kiiara.
My lips curve, and then a wide chest is blocking my view.
I look up to find a grinning Mason, his arms outstretched as if he’s
midwaltz, minus the dance partner. “Dance with me.”
With a spirited sigh, I take his hand and place the other on his shoulder,
his other gently landing on my waist. We step to the music, at least a dozen
others around us doing the same thing, though not separated like they’re at
a middle school dance the way we are.
My eyes keep going back to the band, and I watch the lead singer’s
fingers as they drift across the strings of his guitar in fluid motions. Up and
down, ring finger to pointer to middle, and too many other various versions
to track.
“So you’ve got a thing for musicians, do you?” Mason follows my line
of sight. “I’m telling Richie Rich.”
My chuckle is low, and I shake my head, looking up into Mason’s
brown eyes. “No, I don’t have a thing for musicians, and sorry to burst your
bubble, but Deaton isn’t the jealous type.”
“Clearly,” he scoffs, and I roll my eyes playfully.
He’s not being an ass, just teasing, so I ignore his Richie Rich comment.
He’s not wrong, though. At first glance, Deaton screams money. He
looks like the typical private school kid with khaki shorts and a Hollywood
smile. His skin is flawless and his eyes the color of dark chocolate. His
family has more zeros in their bank account than all the James Bond movies
combined, but none of that matters to him. In fact, he hates it. Hates his
family.
I’m all he can count on in this world, same as he’s been for me.
Sure, I have my brother, but after my dad left my mom, everything
changed. I was too young to choose, and she tore me away from everyone,
threatened them if they had any contact with me, and since she no longer
had my brother’s life under her sharp, wide-stretched claws, she took mine.
She stole my dad from me, then my brother and my friends. She even
took my body, molding it into what she wanted it to be. She left me with
nothing but a sick, twisted need for her acceptance. For the love she refused
to give.
It wasn’t until I found Deaton that I realized it wasn’t that she refused
but rather that she had no idea what the word even meant. Strangely, neither
did I until I felt it for myself.
The love I’ve come to know is supportive and kind. It’s safe and…
honest.
“Hey.” The softness in Mason’s tone catches me off guard, and I look
up, waiting for him to tell me everything will be okay, that having a baby is
a blessing, even at sixteen, even if I haven’t decided what I’m going to do.
“Want me to kick his ass?”
My muscles freeze instantly, and then an unexpected laugh falls from
my lips, his words the furthest thing from what I imagined. Mason starts
laughing, too, and when he stretches our hands high above my head, I let
him twirl me around a little.
Maybe things won’t be so bad after all.
Maybe Deaton and I could really keep and care for this baby.
Or maybe I’ll screw it all up and end up just like my mother.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER NINE

PAYTON

N ow , J uly 5

“I’ ve wanted to dance with you like this since that day .” M ason ’ s
confession slams into me, and I think a small gasp slips through my lips. “I
didn’t know it then, but I did.”
His mind strayed just as mine had, and it’s as confusing as it is
predictable.
As comforting as it is overwhelming.
“I miss you,” he whispers, and my eyes fly open.
My breath hitches and I tense, but his hands continue sliding along my
lower back, the heat of his palm calming and rattling at the same time.
“Mason, please.”
He’s quiet for several seconds, and I realize we’re no longer moving but
standing still as the room moves around us. He pulls back, his thumb
gliding along my jawline, those dark eyes locking on mine in desperation.
Tension tugs at my ribs, and I squash my thoughts, but it’s too late, and
now my pulse is jumping higher and higher. It’s fucking flying.
 “I can’t do this.” I tear away, rushing over and grabbing my camera,
hastily stuffing it in my bag.
Mason appears beside me, gripping my shoulder gently, but I spin away,
and what was meant to be a brisk walk turns into a full-on run. People turn
to stare, but I ignore them, pretending not to hear the harsh slap of his shoes
following behind.
Brady catches my eye on my exit, and he abandons the girl he had
pinned to the wall in a heartbeat. I don’t know what he sees, but I know the
moment he realizes I’m not the only person running out of the party. His
gaze flicks behind me, widening before slicing back to mine.
He gives a curt jerk of his chin, and I’m out the door but not before
hearing the scuffle behind me.
There’s a bit of a crash, followed by a shout. “Let me go!”
“Can’t.”
“Swear to god, Brady!”
The door slams closed behind me, and I dart to the left, doing my best to
disappear into the darkness in case the quarterback escapes the arms of his
lineman.
Unfortunately for me, I wasn’t fast enough, and Brady must have
underestimated Mason’s need to get to me, as footsteps pound the payment
at my back. There’s no escaping now, so I brace for the onslaught.
“I said I can’t do this!” I shout, preparing to throw out any excuse in the
book as I whirl around, but the words die on my lips, my mouth clamping
shut.
Mason isn’t behind me. Chase is.
He jerks to a stop, his palms rising as if he’s just come across a wild
bear, but when my shoulders fall with instant relief, he tucks his hands in
his pockets, offering a gentle smile. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
He glances toward the parking lot and back, a single brow raised.
“Wanna get out of here?”
“Yes.”
Just like that, he turns, and with eager steps, I follow.
C hase drives for several minutes , coming to a stop on a dark
street in front of one of those giant, industrial-style rolling doors.
“Are you selling me off to drug lords?”
He doesn’t respond, just chuckles and hops out. Reluctantly, I follow,
running to catch up with him and crossing my arms as we walk toward the
building.
“I feel like a guy in overalls with bodies buried under his porch is about
to walk out with a wrench in his hand.”
Chase throws his head back on a laugh, glancing my way with a grin.
“That’s oddly specific.”
“My imagination is pretty thorough.”
Shaking his head, he steps inside first, and I stick close behind.
Thankfully, it’s not so terrifying once we enter. There are actual lights
on the inside, but the small vacant desk that comes into view is kind of
concerning.
My steps slow, but then low voices reach us, and I look to the far right
to find a few people kicking back on a sofa pushed up against the wall.
They look up as we enter and smile.
“Hey, welcome to Riot and Rage,” the guy says as the girl climbs to her
feet.
“You guys come to let off some steam?” she asks.
I look to Chase, who grins from me to her. “Yup. For two, please.”
“You got it.”
Ten minutes and a scary release of liability form later, we’re standing in
the center of a giant room wearing goggles, gloves, and coveralls so long I
had to roll mine four times.
A bat hangs from my hands, and a crowbar hangs from his.
There are random doors and mismatched lamps sitting atop hideous end
tables. Mirrors hang in a mess of discoordination from one wall to the next,
and there’s an ancient flat-screen sitting in the center, just right there on the
hard floor.
“So…” I draw out, tucking the bat to my chest. “What now?”
Chase smiles, then turns, bringing the crowbar down on an old fax
machine.
I yelp as little plastic pieces fly every which way, my jaw dropping with
a laugh a moment later. “What the…”
 “Did you think we were coming in here to decorate?” he teases,
spinning and taking out a lamp. He moves silently from item to item, a
shadow falling over his features as he goes.
I glance around the space, unease settling in my gut.
A loud groan escapes Chase, so I peek behind me, finding him heaving
over a broken picture frame, the random couple’s smiles purposely
scratched out, and it clicks.
This place, it’s set up for very specific reasons, filled with all the things
that can morph in your mind into exactly what you need them to…the
object of your inner issue, daring you to destroy it.
To take it by the horns and snap it right off the bull’s head.
I turn, my eyes immediately going to a long mirror on the wall opposite
me.
It’s wide and framed in cheap plastic, smudges of who knows what
decorating the center. I walk closer, my hands shaking as I pause directly in
front of it.
My eyes lift, catching on the girl on the other side.
She’s…broken and weak. A screwup. Fat by other people’s terms.
She’s everything her mother said she’d be…
My jaw clenches, and I close my eyes, tension radiating through my
every pore.
A warm hand brushes against my back, and my eyes fly open, meeting a
pair of green ones in the mirror. After a moment, Chase nods and steps
back.
It takes me a second to mentally check out or maybe check back in, I
don’t know, and face my reflection.
I’m not cowering in a corner, begging for someone’s approval.
I’m not killing myself to fit someone else’s standard.
I’m not the girl I used to be.
I think I’m better.
I lift the bat, shattering the image, staring as piece after piece of the girl
before me disappears until there’s nothing but a dingy white wall in its
wake.
The broken shards crunch and crash to the floor, and an unexpected
laugh leaves me. I look over my shoulder, my smile far too wide as I meet
Chase’s gaze.
He smirks, and then it’s on.
 We take our weapons to everything in the space, trading and tossing,
and it’s fucking liberating.
I can’t wipe the grin from my face, and when we’re done, kicking off
our coveralls, I finally pause a second to breathe, take Chase in, and start
laughing.
He raises a brow, and I shake my head, my hand going to my stomach
I’m laughing so hard now. “What’s so funny?” he asks.
“Us. This.” I motion between us, moving my hand up and down. “We
literally came from a wedding. You’re wearing slacks and a button-down
with black smears all over your face and you have a mace ball perched on
your shoulder like it’s normal. I’m in a dress with curls that took way too
long and more makeup than I’ve worn in a year, holding a freaking
sledgehammer. We look like Harley Quinn and The Joker.”
Chase laughs, too, and then throws his arm over my shoulder, leading us
back toward the front. “Nah, we look good.” He beams, and my own mood
matches.
Not even the cold night air slapping me in the face as we exit can kill
the buzz in the air, and it’s still just as present when, thirty minutes later,
we’re seated on the tailgate with milkshakes and a basket of garlic fries.
I sigh for what seems like the millionth time, and Chase just chuckles
beside me.
“I take it you’ve never been to a rage room before?” he asks, tossing me
a hoodie before yanking one over his dress shirt and closing the cab doors.
He rejoins me, and I take a break from my shake to answer.
“Definitely not. My mother would have an aneurysm at the mere
mention of it. She was a ‘work your frustrations out in the gym’ kind of
woman, but you know, only if it’s me. Anything to get me to burn off
calories, even if I hadn’t consumed any that day.” I frown, thinking about it.
“She never worked out and looked flawless all the time. It was annoying.” I
look up suddenly, wincing. “Sorry. I’m always such a mood killer.”
“Nah,” Chase disagrees with a smile.
“What about you? Beat things up often?”
He digs a spoon into his sundae, shaking his head. “Never needed to
before. I get to knock people around or get knocked around on the field
enough.”
I tip my head at him. “Usually.”
He looks over, pausing with a spoon at his lips.
 “You usually get knocked around enough that it helps tame the beast.” I
try to make light of the subject that’s not really light at all.
It sort of works, and the chuckle that leaves Chase is only slightly
strained.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” A heavy sigh escapes him, and he frowns
at his pile of caramel syrup as if it’s personally offended him. “Usually.”
Lifting my camera from where it’s sitting in my lap, I hold it up and
take his picture.
Chase’s head snaps up, a small glare fixed on his face.
I shake it back and forth. “Because you look so tragic. I figure I’ll show
you this when you’re back to your happy-go-lucky self.”
“I’m not happy-go-lucky.”
“Yeah, you are.” I pause, testing the waters a little to see if maybe he
wants to talk about it. “Or you were, but not so much lately.”
Chase’s brows dip even lower, but his features quickly go blank as he
faces forward. “It’s not what you think,” he finally says.
“I mean, it would be okay if it was.” I lift a shoulder. “If anyone knows
how little sense the way missing or wanting someone you can’t have messes
with you, it’s me. Half the time, I feel like a rubber band, stretching and
stretching, only to snap right back to where I started with a sting that wasn’t
there before. It’s…exhausting.” I tense, peeking at him from the corner of
my eye to find him staring. “I didn’t mean to throw that at you. I’m fine,
really. I’m just—” Cutting myself off, I turn to Chase, my lips flattening,
and before I know what I’m doing, I’m running my mouth to him once
again. “That’s a lie,” I tell him. “I’m not fine. Sometimes things feel okay,
but I’m never fine. I don’t even like that stupid word. Fine. What does it
even mean?”
I stand up, pacing the length of the bed of the truck.
I never thought things could get worse, but here I am, twelve months
past what I thought was the worst day of my life, and guess what? Things.
Are. Worse.
Things are worse, and like my mother always said, it’s all my fault.
My life is crumbling at my feet, and I’m the one holding the hammer.
I’m losing it.
A flash blinds me, and I look to Chase in confusion to find his phone in
hand, a soft smile on his lips. “Because you look so tragic right now.
Figured I’d show it to you when you’re back to your pretend happy-go-
lucky self.”
It takes a moment, but a laugh leaves me, and I drop back onto the
tailgate and bump his shoulder the way he did mine last time.
Picking up my milkshake, I give it a little swirl before taking another
drink.
We sit in silence for a while, and it’s nice. Relaxing, even if I did have a
moment a handful of minutes ago.
I’m so lost in the peace the night provides, I jolt when the warmth of
Chase’s skin brushes against my own. My eyes fly to his, but his are on his
knuckle as he drags it along the side of my mouth.
A small frown builds, and when he looks up, he lifts his hand to show a
dab of ice cream before he uses a napkin to wipe it clean.
I hold my shake out in his direction. “Wanna trade?”
Chase looks down at his sundae, a glare growing before he passes it my
way. “Yeah.” He sighs. “I think I’m ready for something new.”
The way he says it, I’m not so sure he’s talking about ice cream, but
that’s none of my business.
I take the sundae and eat every bite. Tomorrow, I’ll regret it, but isn’t
that the story of my life?
I used to think I was a model of self-control.
I’m not.
I’m a mess of self-sustaining tendencies and destroying everything I
touch.
I’m a damn plague.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TEN

MASON

N ow , J uly 9

“W e ’ re having tacos .”
“I’m tired of tacos.”
“Who gets tired of tacos?”
“The people who have to cut all the toppings up every time, that’s who.”
“Well, maybe if you paid attention when Noah’s teaching Ari tricks in
the kitchen, you wouldn’t be stuck with the shitty tasks no one else wants
and you can’t fuck up.”
Brady dodges Cameron’s right hook with a laugh, throwing her over his
shoulder right there in the middle of the store.
Ari sighs, shaking her head at our friends as they disappear around the
aisle, Cameron cussing him out all the way. “Bet you five bucks he’s taking
her to the cookie aisle as an apology.”
A smirk pulls at my lips. “I’ll keep my five, thanks.”
Noah walks up, locking his arms around my twin’s middle. “You two
really are best friends if food works to get both of you into b⁠—”
I raise a brow at him, and he pivots.
 “Brunch.”
Fighting a smirk, I point to Chase as he steps up. “We’ll get the meat.
You two get the veggies.”
Chase rubs the back of his head. “I need some things for my protein
shakes…”
“Chase and I are on fruits and veggies, then.” Noah looks to Chase.
“You ever tried adding peanut butter powder instead of peanut butter?”
Chase glances away, and I swear it’s a shame thing. He can’t quite meet
Noah’s eyes without flinching, but he knows it’s his own doing and mans
up every time. “Does it help thin it out more?”
“Oh, yeah, man.” The two start walking, Noah talking as they go, and
Ari and I stare after them until they’re gone.
She looks to me with a half smile and leads us toward the meat counter.
“Noah hates the tension in the room when Chase is around.”
“A little tension is good for Chase. He can’t be let off the hook too easy,
and he doesn’t want to be.”
“And that’s exactly why Noah hates it. Chase is punishing himself,
distancing himself. It’s not right, Mase. He’s family, too.”
An uncomfortable sensation builds in my gut, just like it does every
time I think about how my best friend tried to get in the middle of my sister
and Noah when the couple was at their most vulnerable. The truth is it
sickened me to see him go after her when he did, especially after learning
he had his chance and blew it…but at the same time, a small part of me
understood.
Or maybe that’s a new revelation, considering.
All I know is if before I was against doing something a little less than
honorable to get what I wanted, I’m not anymore. You’ll never change the
score if you don’t dare to make the pass, right?
I want the girl, and I’m not sure there’s a move I wouldn’t make to get
her.
“Are you still mad at him?” my sister asks.
Pulling a deep breath in, I slowly let it out, a small shake of my head
following. “I was pissed, but I think I was more disappointed than anything,
and not because of what he was doing. It’s like I’ve said before. Chase is a
good man. I know that, you know that, and we’re all young. There’s a lot of
shit we’re going to fuck up along the way. What I didn’t like was that he
had you and only decided to do something real about it after your accident.”
 Panic pricks at my skin at the thought of everything that went down just
seven months ago. I thought I was losing my sister, my twin, and for the
first time, no matter what I did, I couldn’t protect her. I failed at my
position, and I damn well knew it.
And then she healed, and I realized something.
My sister had someone who meant everything to her, who wanted to
give her the world, and that meant she didn’t need me anymore.
Football was over for the season, so they didn’t need me either.
I was floating away, and only when a certain strawberry blond was
around did that sense of worthlessness deflate.
I don’t know why it’s there in the first fucking place. I hate it, and it
makes no sense.
My parents loved the shit out of us, raised us well, and had our backs no
matter what. They came to all my games, and we had more family time than
not. We weren’t neglected or expected to raise ourselves once we were old
enough to know how. I had friends, and I was as happy as any other kid
who had a good home like mine.
Regardless of all that, though, I was still the “big brother.” The only
brother.
My dad lost his sister when he was young, and after I heard the story of
how she was killed by a car while riding her bike, I saw the sadness and
fear in his eyes and I knew I had to be the protector. My family needed me
to shield our home from that same fate, because we wouldn’t survive a loss
like that.
I wouldn’t survive, so watching over her became my job. If she fell off
the swings, I was there to pick her up. If she was scared, I would make her
feel safe. If someone pushed her, I put them on their ass. There was no me
without her, at least not until football came along.
Only when I was on the field did I discover I was capable of caring
about myself, too, and it didn’t take long for us all to realize I was better
than most in the sport. Suddenly, not only Ari needed me, but so did my
team. It was like the other half of my brain sparked to life.
Just like that, I had two purposes in life, and I fucking thrived on that
fact.
“Trauma affects everyone different, Mase,” Ari whispers, bringing me
back to the conversation at hand. “You can’t blame them, hate them, or turn
your back on them. The same way people process differently, they heal
differently, too.” She looks my way, and I meet her gaze. “And some take a
lot longer than others.”
A scoff leaves me, and I fight a smile. “Really? Just gonna leave that
line hanging and hope I bite?”
Her brows draw in, worry blanketing her features. “Are you going to?”
A small scowl builds, and I look away. I hate that she’s concerned for
me. She shouldn’t have to stress herself out over me and my shit.
Sighing, I change the subject. “I’m headed back to campus in the
morning. Coach has a new trainer on staff he wants me working with. The
team’s due back from break in a few days, and I guess since I’m the new
Noah, it’s my job to make sure shit’s dialed in before they get there.”
Ari waits, hoping I’ll at least touch on what she was not so subtly trying
to say, so I try to find a way to say what Ari thinks she knows without
confirming or denying.
“Last year, I was champing at the bit to get there, and last night, I was
sitting around trying to think of excuses my coach would believe so I could
stay here a little longer.” My frown doubles. “Last summer, I felt good
about the future, but I didn’t come back to what I left here last time.” I
glance her way from the corner of my eye.
Ari’s face is full of understanding, and a small, sad smile curves her
lips.
The line moves, and then it’s our turn, so we face the butcher with tight
grins.
I don’t even hear what she ends up ordering, the sudden ringing in my
ears is too loud.
I have to leave tomorrow, and I’m fucking terrified.

T oo fast , the next morning rolls around , and when I walk out to
my truck with my duffel hanging from my fist, my fears are validated.
Because unlike the last time, there’s no pretty little blond standing
beside the hood with a baby carriage, just making sure she gets the chance
to say goodbye.
It’s just me.
Me and the overwhelming sense of fucking failure.
“L ast one , J ohnson !” C oach R ogan shouts from the sideline .
I line up with the cones, dashing forward, only to cut back into the
pocket. Assistant Coach Davies shoves out his pad from the left, and I roll
right, evading. I dash to the marker, pull my arm back, and fake a pass, then
return to the start.
I drop back, sling myself to the left when my secondary coach, Coach
Nichols, approaches my right, my feet cutting across the grass. My arm
shoots out, and this time, the ball launches from my fingertips.
A whistle is blown loudly, and I spin with a pant.
“Coach.” My hands go to my hips, my neck stretching to allow my
lungs a deeper breath. “I got more in the tank. I can go another⁠—”
“Just because you can doesn’t always mean you should. What did I say
about releasing?”
It’s a rhetorical question, so I don’t bother with an excuse as to why I let
the ball fly.
“You’re on a detailed workout for a reason. Stick to it. We’ll see you
back here before dinner for your brief with Coach Manu. Shower and
recovery. After that, head over to get your meals sorted with the dietician.
They should have everything settled. You just need to make your selections
and replace what you might not like.”
“Yes, Coach.”
He eyes me a moment before nodding. “We’re counting on you, kid.
Now get out of here and get cleaned up.”
“Yes, Coach.” A bolt of electricity fires in my bones, and I give a curt
nod. “Thank you.”
They’re counting on me.
They need me.
Mason Johnson.
I tear the towel from my shorts, swiping at the sweat rolling down my
face and the back of my neck. A satisfied exhale burns its way past my
throat, my workout having really done me in good, and I chuckle at myself.
I feel good. I’ve never been in such good shape in my life, and I’m so
fucking ready for the season to start. This is everything I’ve ever wanted,
and I’m going to show this team and everyone else why I deserve to be the
guy who leads them to victory.
My head is high, and I can’t stop the smile on my lips as I strip down,
turn on and step into the cold spray of the shower. My muscles tense for a
moment but relax a second later. I press my palms to the cool tile and let the
water wash the sweat off my skin before turning to lean my shoulders
against the tile.
My eyes close, and a laugh escapes. Man, this year is bound to be epic.
My best friends and I are going to do everything we talked about at twelve
years old: start together on a D1 college football field in front of hundreds
of thousands of screaming fans, be it in person or on TV. Avix University is
top tier, the record Noah led us to the last few years earning us that prime-
time spot.
Now it’s my turn.
I’m the man they’ll lean on.
The crowd will wear my number proudly on their chests.
I need to get Pretty Little a season pass.
My face falls instantly.
With jerky movements, I wash up, get out, and head back to my locker.
Digging into my bag, I yank on a fresh pair of boxers and some navy Avix
U sweatpants. My phone is in my hands in seconds, my frown doubling as I
glance down at the screen.
Zero missed calls, no new messages.
I drop onto the bench seat, opening up my and Payton’s message thread,
nothing but blue bubbled texts for pages and pages, dating back to May, the
newest the one I sent this morning.
It wasn’t over the top, and I wasn’t prying. Neither was the one I sent
last night when I was alone in my room.
Me: I’m back on campus.
Me: Good morning. Tell Little D hi for me.

With a sigh, I back out, checking the rest of my notifications and

finding Cameron posted a picture on Instagram this morning. I click on the
icon, and the image appears. I jerk upright, glaring at the screen.
It’s a photo of all the girls at the café down the road from the beach
house. They probably walked there like we all used to. Cameron is taking
the shot, Mia and her on one side of the table, Lolli, Ari…and Payton on the
other. And at the end of the table is one of those old wooden high chairs, my
little man perched right inside it, a blanket tucked against his back. He’s
smiling, too, his fingers stuck halfway in his mouth, and my eyes soften at
the sight.
He’s so damn adorable, his dark curls all over the place and hanging
over his forehead. I scroll to the next picture, and a weighted warmth falls
on my chest. He’s got the little football Lolli bought him in his hand, my
signature right there in the shot as he tucks it to his chest.
Maybe the little man will be a running back when he gets older.
The next shot is taken from high above, showing only their hands and
the plates they ordered. A scowl pulls at my brows, and I tug the screen
closer. Payton’s pretty pink painted fingernails are delicately placed at the
edge of her plate—which is nothing more than a pile of fruit. That’s not
what has my blood pressure rising, though. It’s the phone that’s sitting right
beside her on the table.
The phone that she would have seen my message on last night or woke
to this morning.
That she’s seen and ignored all my messages and calls on for months
now.
After everything that happened between us.
And then even after all that, when she stopped ignoring me and broke
her silence on the Fourth.
After she gave in again and let me hold her on the dance floor four
nights ago.
I swallow, my leg bouncing anxiously.
She’s letting me go, I know it. I fucking feel it, and it…hurts.
I don’t want to do this.
I can’t fucking do this.
My mind is screaming, my adrenaline spiking, and it’s too much.
I need to clear my head. Again.
Shoving my earbuds in, I start a random playlist, toss my shit in my bag,
and throw it over my shoulder. I shove through the door of the school gym
dedicated to athletes alone and move over to the treadmill.
I hop on, hit the incline, and turn the thing to max speed.
System of a Down screams angrily in my ears, and I bob my head,
pumping my arms as if trying to scale a fucking mountain that seems to
double its height every fucking time I reach the top.
 I run and run, and I don’t stop until my knees buckle and I fall, flying
backward until my spine slams into the weight machine behind me.
I groan, dropping my head back, but I don’t get up.
I sit there glaring at the man in the mirror, wondering if he’s enough to
get all he wants out of this world.
All the while knowing damn well he might not be.
I might fucking not be.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER ELEVEN

PAYTON

N ow , J uly 10

A ri gives D eaton another kiss to the cheek before wrapping her

arms around my neck for a quick goodbye, and I do my best to keep
smiling. Cameron is next, and then they’re piling into the car.
“Bye, girlie! Chat soon!” Cameron blows a kiss, hits the gas, and
they’re off, officially leaving me and Deaton alone.
Their car doesn’t even make it to the stop sign before my lips begin to
quiver, and my arms tighten around my son. I walk swiftly into the house,
closing and locking the door behind me and bouncing him in place a
moment while I try to gather myself.
Everyone is gone. All of them.
This is what you wanted, I try to remind myself, but it doesn’t feel like
what I want.
Or maybe it’s that it’s not what I need. I don’t know, but I’m alone. My
brother and Kenra are gone, Lolli, Nate, and Noah with them, the group
headed over to the Tomahawk headquarters, where Noah will get settled
into the apartment closer to the NFL practice field. Nate’s going to share
with him since he’s a sophomore at the University of San Diego this year
and isn’t required to stay in the dorms. None of them are coming home
tonight.
Everyone is back to normal life, college, work, playing for a
professional freaking football team, and here I am…essentially in the same
place I was last year, on this very day.
Two point five seconds away from a nervous breakdown, overflowing
with anxiety, pain, confusion, and, the worst of all, wishful fucking
thinking.
Last year, I stood in this very place in the entryway, though it was the
one next door, and wished Deaton would stay, that we had more time so I
could talk to him about where life was going to take us now that we were
pregnant. But his brother showed up, and he said he had to go home or his
parents would come and make things worse. He promised everything would
be okay, that we would figure it out and he’d call me when he got home.
Today I’m standing here wishing for nearly the same things. That he
didn’t go and we had the time to talk, that I got the chance to tell him I
wanted to raise the baby together and I was just afraid, that I wasn’t going
to give our son up for adoption, and that he would get to be the father he
wanted to be the moment he learned I was pregnant.
The only difference is last year, everyone was here, so I wasn’t alone
when the call came through to say there had been an accident and we
needed to get to the hospital as quickly as we could. Ironically, the call
wasn’t even for me but for Nate, because his sister was in the same car
Deaton was that night.
Today, I am alone…because no one realizes what today is, which is
understandable. No one was affected by the loss of the boy I loved the way
I was. I’m sure it was hard on his parents in one way or another, as horrible
as they were. Considering how poorly they treated him, they don’t deserve
this frame of thinking, but I have to believe they mourned him in some way,
that they experienced some sort of loss and sadness. He deserves to be
missed, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure he’s never forgotten.
My son will know his father even if he never gets to know his father.
One year.
It’s been one full year without you, and it still feels like yesterday.
Deaton’s little hands come up, pressing into my cheeks and squishing
my lips, and a choked sob slips past them. Thankfully, the wateriness of my
smile is missed by my baby boy, and when he smiles back, there’s nothing
but joy and his big blue eyes. I tug him close, pressing kisses to the side of
his head as I play with the dark curls that mirror his father’s.
Pulling a deep breath into my lungs, I take one single second to settle
myself, and then I put on my happy face and bounce my little boy around
the room.
We play with his plushies and then his blocks. We go down to the ocean
and dip our toes in the water and have lunch on the patio.
I selfishly try to keep him awake as long as possible, and he makes it
well past his nap time, but when he starts to fall asleep in his high chair, I
suck it up and lift him into my arms. We settle on the couch, because I can’t
stand the thought of putting him down, and he quickly falls asleep on my
chest.
Within minutes, my mind is spinning once more, and the panic is back
so strong, I nearly choke for air but do my best to keep my heart rate steady,
since his little cheek is resting against it.
Tears fall from my eyes, the saltiness slipping between the cracks of my
lips, and I drop my head back to keep them from landing atop his head.
Lifting my phone into the air, I hastily scroll through the contacts,
pausing when I reach his name. My eyes squeeze closed, and I shake my
head.
You can do this. You can get through today. Get through today, and
tomorrow will be better, and no one has to know.
I drop my phone to my side, but after a moment, I pick it back up and
send a different message before I can think twice.
I toss my phone and forget about it, cuddling my son tight. Thankfully,
he stirs only forty-five minutes later, his little head popping up with a grin.
“Hi, mister man.” I kiss his cheeks and change him, and we settle on his
nursery floor.
We read a couple of books and sing along to a couple of shows. We take
another walk, a longer one this time, and then we have dinner, just the two
of us at the kitchen table. We take a bath and stay in there until we’re cold
and shriveled, and it’s not long until he’s rubbing at his eyes some more.
This time, I know I can’t hold him as he sleeps. He’ll be out all night
now.
I rock him slowly, and all too soon, his little snores sound in my ear.
With shaky limbs, I push to my feet and ease him down into his bed. After
one last longing look, I turn on the monitor and close the door.
And then I collapse against it. I drop to my ass, my head falling into my
hands as a sob racks through me uncontrollably, shaking me to the bone and
leaving me gasping.
I grip my throat and shove to my feet, stumbling through the house and
out the back door. I rush to the railing, clutching it with both hands as I
bend at the waist, my head hanging between my extended arms, and I cry.
Cries that are interrupted by the soft shuffle of sand.
My head snaps up, and every muscle in my body locks tight.
Mason stands there, still in his practice gear, cleats and all.
“Mase…” My voice breaks.
He climbs the steps slowly, a soft smile on his lips, his arms hanging at
his sides stiffly, as if he wants nothing more than to reach for me but isn’t
sure if he should.
All worries wash from my mind, and I throw myself into his chest.
Instantly, his strong arms wrap around me, holding me close, his cheek
resting against my head.
“I’ve got you, Pretty Little. I’m here,” he whispers. “I’ve been here.”
Confused, I pull back and look up at him.
A tender smile tugs at his lips, the longing in his gaze almost too much,
but I don’t look away. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, and his voice is
raspy when he speaks. “I came as soon as I could…just in case you needed
me.”
I latch onto his wrist, holding on for dear life.
He knows. He remembered what today was. He knew how hard it
would be for me.
He remembered for me.
“This is why you’ve been distant,” he guesses.
I nod, unable to form the words and unwilling to admit he’s only
partially right.
“I should have realized, and I’m sorry I didn’t. I just got in my head and
thought maybe you changed your⁠—”
“Payton, you back here?” a voice calls from the side of the house, and
both of us freeze.
Mason goes rigid against me, and when I look up, his eyes are staring to
the left. I follow, spotting a head of sandy brown hair.
 Chase jerks to a stop, his brows drawn in confusion as he looks at the
two of us.
“Uh…hey.” He nods at Mason, and slowly, his eyes come back to mine
as he lifts the little bag in his hands. “Brought the shakes.”
I swallow, fingers digging tighter into Mason’s top.
“What’s going on?” Chase asks cautiously, his eyes moving back to his
best friend’s.
Tension tugs at my chest, and I force myself to look to Mason, but his
eyes are still pointed at the newcomer.
“What’s wrong?” Chases pushes.
Mason’s muscles flex against me, and my stomach churns at the blank
sheet of his expression.
“Mase,” I breathe.
Gently, with movement so slow it tears at something within me, he
removes his arm from around me and his hand from my face, and lastly his
fingers latch around my hand, untangling my grip on his wrist. He steps
back, and only when no part of him is touching me do his brown eyes drop
to meet mine.
“You called…him?” He speaks the words so low, I almost miss them.
With a slight shake of his head, he stumbles back a step.
“Mase.”
He looks away.
“Mason.”
He shuffles farther away, and acid bubbles burst in my gut. When his
cleats meet the sand, he starts to run.
I jerk forward, a barbed wire wrapping around and puncturing my lungs.
Panic sets in, and I launch myself toward the stairs “Mason!” I scream.
But he doesn’t answer.
He’s gone now, too.
I fall to my ass and cry until I pass out.
Just like I did on this very same night exactly one year ago today.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWELVE

PAYTON

B efore , J uly

N umb .
I feel…nothing.
“There’s been an accident.”
Nate’s voice plays on repeat in my head, over and over, and it doesn’t
stop. Not on the three-hour drive to the hospital, not in the elevator on the
way up to the fourth floor.
Not when my brother whispers words I don’t hear in my ear, and not
when Mason bends and puts himself eye level with me. His are sloped, lips
moving, but if he’s speaking, I have no knowledge of it.
“There’s been an accident.”
“There’s been an accident.”
“There’s been an accident.”
A hand settles on my shoulder, but I pull away.
I can’t feel. If I feel, the numbness will go away. If the numbness goes
away, the worry will come and ruin everything. That’s what Mom always
said to me, right? Worrying is a worthless emotion that does nothing but
destroy and prevent. Be cold, and you’ll get further in life.
It’s probably bullshit, much like every other word that trips from her
poisonous tongue.
At some point, we arrived at the hospital, though I have no recollection
of getting out of the vehicle. All I know is I’m standing at the start of a
short hallway, three giant, crimson letters painted onto a pair of double
doors glaring back at me that read ICU.
We’ve been called to the intensive care unit.
I’m so stuck in my own head, I don’t realize I’ve yet to step from the
elevator until the doors begin to hide the ominous acronym. Darting
forward, I stop it with my shoe, then slip out, realizing the others are all
huddled at the end, a woman with brown hair I’ve never met now with
them.
My steps are slow, and with each one taken, the numbness begins to
crumble. Little by little, my taut muscles reveal themselves, the ache
between my shoulder blades deep and uncomfortable.
My body is rigid, my jaw clenched tight.
“Mom?” Ari shouts, and I jolt at the sudden sound.
Everyone turns to find two women running down the hall. They have to
be someone’s mothers.
My thought is proven right when one wraps her arms around Nate, the
other Ari, and that’s when their sobs reach me.
My arm shoots out, and I grip onto my brother’s wrist. In my periphery,
I watch his head turn my way, but I couldn’t look away from the women if I
tried.
This is off.
Something is wrong.
They’re crying, yes, but there’s a hint of something in their eyes.
Hope.
They have hope.
Kenra’s mom and aunt…have hope.
Nate pulls back and looks down at his mother. “Ma?”
Tears slip from her eyes, and she swallows. “They said they lost control
of the car, flipped it into a ditch.”
“No,” Parker rasps, and warm liquid coats my nails where they’re
pressed against his skin.
 My brother starts to say something, but Nate cuts him off with a scream.
“Mom!” Nate shouts, scared for his sister. “Is Kenra okay?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” she whispers. “She’s okay.” She glances this way,
toward Parker. “But we’re not in the clear yet. She’s unconscious. They’re
running tests.”
Relief fills the hall, the others dropping against the wall and clutching
their chests, but the woman’s words have the opposite effect on me.
Dread, cold and vivid, courses through me, and my limbs begin to
shake.
“You!”
The shrill voice is one I could never mistake, and every vein in my body
goes cold.
I can’t look, don’t dare to, and my heart pounds in unison with every
click of heels against the floor.
Her shadow falls over me, and there’s suddenly no hiding. Her eyes stab
at mine, the hatred within them hard to miss.
“Excuse me, miss. I⁠—”
Mason’s voice cuts off in the exact moment a cold, cosmetic hand whips
across my face so hard, I can feel the imprint left behind like the heat of a
branding iron pressed into my skin.
I don’t flinch nor look away, but everyone else? They flip the fuck out.
They scream and shout, and when I pull my head forward, moisture
pricking my eyes from the sting, I find Nate has Deaton’s mother’s arms
restrained behind her back.
Parker tugs me a few paces away, and Mason steps in front of me,
blocking me from the vicious woman’s view, but the numbness, it’s
completely gone now, and a wave of unease crashes through me.
I stumble, my back hitting the wall.
“Payton?” My brother’s worried voice breaks through the ringing in my
ears.
He moves in front of me, but my eyes slide to the left, once again
landing on the double doors at the end.
ICU.
Mrs. Vermont.
“There’s been an accident.”
“She’s okay.”
My limbs give out, and I’m falling because I just know.
 I feel it in my bones, in my heart.
His absence. His sweet soul and whispered words.
His promise.
He promised he’d be back.
“Payton!” Parker screams, falling with me. Mason is there, too, maybe
someone else. “Payton, talk to me.”
My vision blurs, my eyes closing as my hand subconsciously moves to
my belly. It shakes but presses against the soft, stretched skin there hidden
behind a hoodie.
Did you leave me all alone?
“This is all your fault, little girl,” Mrs. Vermont screeches. “Every time
you think of my son, remember that. I told you you didn’t deserve him. This
must be the world’s way of proving me right.”
My chest cracks open.
“Whoa, what the fuck, lady?” Mason glares, and his mother instantly
tells him to stop. “Uh-uh. No way, Mama. This lady just⁠—”
“This lady just lost her son, Mason.” His mom’s whisper might as well
have been spoken into a microphone. Because there it is.
The confirmation.
He’s…gone.
My organs squeeze the life out of me. I’m choking on nothing, shaking
and convulsing, tearing in fucking two.
But I don’t think I’m moving.
My brother reaches down, pushing the hair from my eyes, and his touch
stings like a live wire. I’m screaming, but no sound leaves me. I’m being
electrocuted from the inside out. I must be.
More voices join us then, but all it sounds like is water in my ears.
Suddenly knuckles are under my chin, and my eyes are lifted to meet a
pair of green ones.
Parker says something, and Chase nods. In the next moment, the burn of
the cold floor disappears, replaced with a hint of warmth. My eyes open
again, and I’m in the air.
I think I hear screaming, and then…nothing.
T he soft murmur of voices splinters through the darkness , and I
wince at the sound, my head pounding with the threat of an oncoming
migraine.
Fingers brush along my hair, and my own sink farther into the material
beneath them.
“Peep,” my brother whispers.
My eyelids feel like weights, but I somehow manage to lift them, slowly
meeting his gaze as he kneels before me.
“Parker…” I blink in confusion, the arm wrapped along my middle
tightening, but when I shift, they loosen, and I throw my own around my
brother. “Can I go home? Home to your house home?”
“Are you sure, Payton?” he asks.
He says something else, but I don’t hear it. I’m already nodding.
“I’m sure. I don’t want to be here.” I can’t be here. “Please.”
“I’ll take her home. Stay with her.”
My muscles tense, and I pull away, slowly looking behind me to the
person whose lap I’m sitting on.
My brother asks, once again, if we’re sure, but Chase doesn’t look his
way, just offers me a small smile. “Yeah, man. I got her.”
My ribs rattle, a chill breaking over my skin. He sat with me this whole
time?
How long has it even been?
Chase gives me a small nod, and then he pushes to his feet, not asking if
I want to be put on my own. He carries me from the room the same way he
held me inside it.
My lips start to tremble, and I squeeze my eyes closed.
I don’t want to see the hall.
I don’t want to see the others.
I don’t want to do this without you, Deaton.
Tears leak from my eyes, and Chase’s arms tighten around me.
And because the universe decided I wasn’t beat on enough for the day,
the only person worse than Miranda Vermont makes her presence known.
My mother is here, and by the sound of it, she’s been waiting for a
while.
“Where the hell is she?” her threatening voice shrieks. “I gave her long
enough.”
 “She needs to be with people who care about her right now,” Parker
snaps. “Not someone who treats her like a puppet.”
My body bounces slightly with Chase’s advancing steps, and I close my
eyes tighter, refusing to look her way. I can’t face her, not right now, not
when I know what I would see.
Victory and I told you so.
Suddenly, Mason is in front of me, staring down with an overwhelming
sense of helplessness. He gives me a small nod, then turns, standing at our
side in silent support as my brother faces off with our mom.
“Put her down,” she seethes. “She needs to learn to live with
disappointment. It’s life. And we’re leaving.”
“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Chase warns calmly, and then
suddenly Brady is here too.
Emotions well in my throat at a fast rate.
Support.
Safety.
Loss.
Emptiness.
Shock.
Absolute devastation.
I can’t keep up.
I gasp, and Mason’s hand shoots out, pressing to the spot on my back
below Chase’s elbow. A silent, unspoken I’ve got you passing from his skin
to mine.
“Put. My daughter. Down,” my mother demands yet again.
“Get the hell out of here, Ava,” Parker growls. “Now is not the time for
this shit. For once in your life, be a good mother, and let her have some
time before you start your shit again. Please.”
I curl into myself even more, because I know what he might have
forgotten.
There isn’t a decent bone in her body.
“Time for what?” She proves my thoughts right. “It’s not like it
happened in front of her, and she’s sixteen! So her little crush is no more.
Not my problem! Deaton is dead. She’ll get over it!”
My lips part, desperate for air, but the knot in my throat denies it, and I
feel my face burn with the lack of oxygen.
 “Oh my god!” someone shouts, and I peek left, spotting the woman who
must be Nate’s mom charge toward mine, but her son blocks her before she
can lunge at my mother.
Guilt burrows its way into my bones. Her daughter wouldn’t be in that
room if it weren’t for me. Kenra brought me to California.
Deaton followed.
This is all my fault.
Uncontrollable, gut-wrenching sobs burst from my throat. I might be
screaming.
Shadows crowd me, telling me the boys have moved closer, but I can’t
see them. I don’t hear them.
My vision is full of broken glass and mangled limbs.
I see Deaton’s bloody body as he screams in my face that this is my
fault.
That I ruined his life.
That I ruined everything.
The next thing I know, the cool night air whips me in the face. My body
trembles, and then my ass meets something cold. The arms releasing me
slip farther away, but my hands snap out, clinging to them.
“Please,” I beg.
They come back, holding me tighter this time, and the last thing I hear
before I pass out again is “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
It’s like a sledgehammer taken to the last of my strength.
Deaton made me a lot of promises before he left.
I refuse to accept, let alone make, any more.
My boyfriend is dead.
I wish I were too.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

PAYTON

N ow

T he sweet sound of my little boy ’ s whimpers has my eyes opening .

I frown, my brain taking a moment to realize where I am, and my gaze
finally snaps to the monitor on the coffee table before me. My muscles
settle, a soft smile covering my lips as I stare at my sleeping baby boy on
the screen.
I lean forward to grab it but freeze instantly when something tightens
around me. My head snaps down to find an arm wrapped around my
middle.
Mason.
Chase.
Deaton…
The night comes rushing back, and I swiftly tug myself off the couch,
glancing back just as his eyes open.
“Hey.” Chase eyes me warily, moving into a sitting position on the
couch.
 “Hey,” I breathe, meekly tucking my hair behind my ear as I glance
away. My eyes fall to the bag sitting at the edge of the table. I drop my chin
to my chest, guilt settling over me as heavy as always.
“What time is it?” he wonders, his voice groggy.
We both look to the clock on the back wall.
It’s just after three in the morning.
Chase swipes his hands down his face and scoots to the edge of the
cushion, snagging his phone from the floor.
I bury my face in my hands. “God, Chase I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have
asked you to come like that. You just got back to school, and you have shit
going on and⁠—”
“No one forced me to come here, Payton.” When I look up at him, he
continues. “I know what it’s like to have a lot of people who love you and
still feel like you have no one to talk to.”
“You can talk to me if you want.”
His lips curl to one side. “I know.”
We stare at each other for a long, quiet moment before I finally speak.
“I never got to thank you.”
He tips his head. “For what?”
“For that night,” I whisper, tugging at the hem of my hoodie. “I was a
disaster, and your best friends needed you, and you just…stayed with me,
the whole time. You probably think I was too out of it to know, and most of
it is foggy, but I remember you being there. So thank you.”
Chase gives an understanding smile, but that smile slowly fades, and he
curses as he looks away. “Today is…or was…”
I nod, dropping my head back to look up at the speckled ceiling. “One
year since he was taken.”
“That’s why Mason was here.” It’s not a question. Neither is what he
says next. “And you didn’t call him tonight.”
My eyes sting, but I swallow the self-pity, undeserving of such a thing,
and shake my head.
Another curse leaves him, and this time when he looks at me, there’s
something deeper in his gaze. “I have to go.” He swallows, looking off. “I
don’t want to, but I have to.”
Something tells me his decision to leave isn’t just about the time, but I
don’t mention that.
 “I know. Thank you for coming. Sorry for turning back into the girl I
was that night. I thought I had a handle on her, but…well.” I shrug.
Chase nods but sits there for several long moments in silence before
rising to his feet. He opens his mouth to say or ask something but seems to
change his mind. “We’ll talk soon?”
My eyes grow cloudy, but I agree. “Yeah. Talk soon.”
With that, he walks out the front door, and I lie back where I sit, my
eyes closing.
That night at the hospital flashes through my mind, the days, weeks, and
months that followed rolling right behind it, and a heaviness settles over
me, but somewhere in that stormy cloud of pain and confusion is a tender
touch of something else, like silk sewn beneath a weighted blanket.
I thought no one knew what today was, and I didn’t want the worry—or
pity—of mentioning it.
But someone did know.
He knew. He knew and he came.
“Just in case you needed me.” His raspy, raw voice flows through me,
bringing the warmth I’ve missed back to my shredded soul. Of course the
moment it does, guilt rides right in like liquid nitrogen and turns it to ice.
Fighting a scream, I punch at the carpet beneath me, my teeth clenching
as I throw my hands through my hair.
Chase was freshly showered in sweats and a hoodie.
Mason still had his cleats on his feet.
He came straight here. He came for me because he knew how hard
today would be.
The look on his face when he saw Chase will haunt me endlessly.
Mason came just in case I needed him.
Chase came because I asked him to.
My bottom lip trembles, and I wish desperately that things were
different.
I have to remind myself this is for the best. Self-preservation at its
finest.
Or worst, depending on how you look at it.
Maybe now he’ll realize I’m not worth the wait or the trouble. He has
his whole life ahead of him. I’m on the cusp of eighteen with a baby and a
questionable future. He’s the starting quarterback for Avix University and
an NFL hopeful.
 A smile graces my lips, a tear slipping down my cheek. God, I’m so
proud of him.
He’s living the dream he shared with me, and I couldn’t be happier for
the man who brought me back to life without my realizing it.
You don’t deserve happiness. Not when you stole that chance from
Deaton.
Brick after brick falls on my chest, crushing my lungs until I’m gasping
and falling onto my hands and knees.
I pant and cry, and eventually…I pass out.

Mason

C oach blows the whistle , and I drop back as my receiver zips down
the field, running his route. He does a little stutter step, as if juking a
defender, and the ball sails from my fingertips. I watch as he slants right,
the ball dropping straight into his arms. A perfect fucking pass.
I step back, and my alternate slides in, my lips pinching tightly as he
does the same, and then I roll in again. This receiver is slower than the
other, his footwork not as smooth, so I hold a split second longer, then fire.
Catch.
“Better hope your line is strong, Johnson.” Alister Howl, the wannabe
me taunts, stepping into the pocket. “Wouldn’t want you to get sacked and
break some more ribs. Or was it the shoulder?”
Before I know I’m doing it, I’m jerking toward him, but my jersey is
caught around the neck, and I’m tugged back.
My eyes snap up, staring at the familiar green ones through the dark
blue face mask.
“Don’t.” Chase snaps around his mouthpiece, scowling from me to the
new fucking punk. “Focus.”
I scoff, tear away, and slam my left shoulder into Alister hard enough to
make him stumble.
“Bitch,” he hisses, looking away when Coach’s head snaps our way.
The asshole has an issue with me, and he made it obvious on day one,
but hey, I’m the guy he has to beat if he wants a spot on the roster that’s
worth a damn. Assuming that’s what’s got his jockstrap twisted so tight.
Again, a receiver runs his route, my feet moving without thought,
working on muscle memory.
Money shot.
I shuffle back, swiftly pressing my chest into Alister’s as he slides
forward. “Don’t worry, backup boy. My line is fucking solid.”
He glares, angrily snagging a ball off the cart and stepping up again.
Chase flies down the field like a demon on wheels, nailing his route, but
Alister misjudges his speed and distance. Chase is standing there waiting
for the ball to drop for a full second.
Alister spits on the ground, and I know Chase is smirking around his
mouthpiece.
He’s always got my back.
My glare is instant, images of last night flashing through my mind, and I
clench my teeth.
So, what, he’s got her back now, too?
Since when?
Why?
Why am I being such a bitch about it?
I want her to have all the support she needs and more…but I want her to
want it all from me first.
I thought she did.
I pick up another ball and go again. And again.
I was the first to hit the field, and three hours later, I’m the last to step
off it.
“You good?” Brady asks when I finally walk into the locker room, his
bag already packed and hanging over his shoulder.
“Yup.” I move right past him.
“Want me to wait?”
“Nope.”
I keep going, stepping right into the shower, and I stay there until I’m
pruned.
When I move back into the row of my locker, both Brady and Chase are
sitting there playing on their phones.
They waited for me.
The tension in my chest eases a bit, and I can’t help the small smile that
pulls at my lips as I tug on my clothes. This is what friends are for, to
understand that even if you say you don’t want them around, they know
you’re better off when they are.
Brady can tell I’m off today, and Chase likely thinks he knows why.
I kind of want to scream and yell at him, demand answers, but at the end
of the day, I’m too fucking scared to hear what they are. We’ve fought
enough this past year when everything went down with my sister, and I
can’t afford that shit right now. I love the little prick like a brother.
Once my bag is stuffed with my shit, they stand.
“Pizza with the girls?” Brady raises a brow.
“Pizza with the girls.”
As we walk out, I can’t help but remember the time I had pizza with a
different girl.
That was the night I realized she wasn’t just the girl I wanted to be there
for.
She is so much fucking more.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN

MASON

B efore , J uly

M y hands are trembling with rage , my joints aching from how

tense I’ve been clenching them for the twenty-minute ride back to Nate’s.
My eyes keep jumping to the broken little blond in the back seat. She
hasn’t noticed me staring, she’s so far gone right now, stuck in her own
head that must be full of nightmares at this point. She’s dealt with so much
in such a short span of time.
All in a month’s time, she discovered she was pregnant, found the
courage to escape a toxic home, got confronted by the boy she left behind,
lost the boy she left behind when he came for her, and then her mother, who
she ran away from, tried to rip her from her home just hours after.
I could not believe the way that woman acted toward Payton. Never in
my life have I ever witnessed a parent act that way.
She spoke as if her baby girl didn’t just have her heart ripped from her
chest, if only from the guilt alone. From what I’ve learned about Payton,
Deaton was the only person she had in her corner back home. She was more
or less alone.
 I’ll be fucking damned if she ever feels that way again.
But now this?
I’m seconds from shoving my fist though the window from the mere
look of defeat on her pretty face.
This just confirms what I’d already began to suspect. Deaton’s family is
as bad, if not worse, than her mother. I mean, goddamn. Who the fuck sends
a photo of a casket holding the boy who passed to the girl who lost him…
after refusing to include her in his funeral? I thought it was the lowest they
could get, keeping it a secret just so she couldn’t be there, but this?
This is some twisted psychological warfare.
My eyes lift again, her blank expression causing my pulse to pound
heavy in my ears.
She’s being mentally tortured, and it’s killing me in ways I can hardly
understand. It’s deeper than I have words for and heavier than I would have
thought possible. I quite literally feel the ache she’s gotten good at hiding,
and she is hiding.
Pretty Little’s trying to be so strong, fighting the voices screaming in
her head.
I wish I knew what they were saying so I could find a way to stop them.
I would take it all away if I knew how.
By the time we pull up to the house, my nerves are on fire.
Everyone opens their doors but me, and when I look up in the mirror
this time, Payton’s eyes lift, latching on to mine. For a split second, her
mask crumbles, her pretty face contorting with pain. Her blue eyes are
begging for something, but I don’t think either one of us knows what it is
she’s asking for, and then she blinks.
Just like that, the mask is back, and she’s climbing from the Tahoe.
Payton avoids everyone’s gaze, and we all hurry after, Parker tugging me
back to allow a few feet of space as if not to spook her. I shrug him off but
stay at his side, looking his way when his arm comes down on my shoulder.
We follow behind, her feet picking up speed until she’s separated herself
from us completely, the door to the room she’s been staying in shutting with
a soft click.
A split second later, a shrill scream fills the air, reverberating across
every wall and slamming into my eardrums like knifes, cutting me, making
me bleed. At least that’s how it feels. Like a physical pain without a wound.
I do the only thing I can think of.
 I send a message in our group thread.
Me: Mama. You need to come. Payton’s breaking and I don’t
know how to fix it.

I stare at my screen, and not five seconds later, Dad’s response comes
through.
Dad: on our way, son.

The smallest of weights lift from my shoulders, and for the next hour,
we sit around, the others in the kitchen, Parker and I taking turns pacing the
space in front of Payton’s door. He walks off a few times, but I can’t bring
myself to move. It’s not until my sister comes back for the third time to
offer me something to drink that I climb from my spot on the floor and
follow her toward the others.
I’m not in there for five seconds when another angry cry rips from down
the hall.
We wince in unison, unsure of what the right thing to do would be but
needing to do something.
“This isn’t good for her.” Chase shakes his head, his face taut with
unease.
I drag my hands down my face to keep from matching her screams, the
helplessness eating me up too damn much. My sister shuffles closer, and I
look her way, finding the same broken expression written across her face.
I know what she’s going to say before she says it. It’s not a twin thing
either, it’s a we were blessed with a family who is there for us always thing.
I try to offer a reassuring smile. “They’re already on their way.”
My smile does nothing for either of us, and when her eyes begin to mist
over, I wrap my arms around her with a sigh.
“Is she going to be okay?” Ari asks.
“Yeah,” I assure her, even when I have no clue if it’s the truth. How
could she possibly be okay after all this? Anger cuts through me, and my
jaw clenches.
“What mother would hide something like this?” she whispers.
“She’s not a mother.” I glare at the ocean outside the large bay window.
Mrs. Vermont is as bad as Payton’s mom. “She’s a heartless bitch. Payton is
carrying a piece of that woman’s son.” I shake my head in disbelief,
knowing how my parents would treat her if it was their grandchild she was
carrying. Shit, how they will treat her now when she’s but a friend. “She
should be worshiping the girl, begging for forgiveness for treating her like
shit their entire relationship.” I swallow. “She’s not a mother.”
With that, I go back to my spot on the floor beside Payton’s door. I’m
not sure if I fall asleep or if my mind is running so fast that the time has
lapsed, but the next thing I know, my mama’s face is in front of me, her soft
hand on my arm.
“I’ve got her, baby. You can take a break.”
My head falls back to the wall, and I stare at the best woman I know.
The most selfless and kindhearted soul, the woman who made my sister the
angel she is. Heat pricks at my eyes, and my mom’s face falls. She cups my
cheek, staring at me as if she sees something I can’t. Knows something I
don’t.
“Oh, honey,” she finally whispers, holds on a second longer, then kisses
my temple.
Slowly, she stands and slips inside Payton’s room.
I roll to the side, pressing my ear to the door to listen, my heart
pounding in my chest.
Will she be angry?
Kick my mom out?
Scream and yell and want to leave because not one of us knows how to
mind our own business in this house? Because we don’t. We’re meddling
motherfuckers and probably always will be.
Soft whispers reach me, followed by soft cries, but these are different.
They’re tears you shed when there’s someone there to hold you through the
pain.
I want to hold you…
I blink at the thought, my back going ramrod straight as the realization
slaps me in the face.
I want to be the one to hold her.
Oh.
Shit.
P ayton ’ s door opens , and my mom slips out , her eyes slightly puffy
and a look of exhaustion tainting her soft features.
“How is she?” I wince at the stupid question.
Obviously, the answer is real fucking shitty. Still, my mom offers a
smile. “She slept for a while.” When she lifts the plate in her hand, I see it’s
still piled high with my dad’s cooking. “She didn’t even take a bite.”
“She has to eat.”
“She will, baby. Just not right now. I left some snacks by her bed, just in
case. Water and some candy.”
I nod, my eyes closing for a moment, and when I open them, both my
parents are standing there, staring down at me with soft expressions.
“I take it you’re not headed back to the house with the others tonight?”
my dad asks.
I shake my head. “Nate won’t care if I camp out on the couch.” Or right
here.
My dad’s knowing smile tells me he’s fully aware of what I didn’t say.
“Mase…” my mom begins, but Dad wraps his arm around her, and they
share one of those parent looks. When she faces me, her smile is a gentle,
slightly concerned one. “I’ll come check on her later today before we
decide if we’re heading back home or not, okay?”
I nod, climbing to my feet to hug them both, and watch them disappear
around the corner. After I hear the gang say their goodbyes, Nate, Lolli, and
Parker appear. They don’t say anything, just nod as they shuffle by like
zombies and close themselves inside their rooms.
The house goes quiet, and suddenly I’m wide awake. I look to my
phone to find it’s well past four in the morning. We’ve been up all night.
Sighing, no sooner do I settle against the pillow my dad propped behind
me at some point and close my eyes than a muffled sound comes from
inside the room.
Footsteps pad across the carpet, and I jump to my feet, my hand
wrapping around the knob. I wait a moment, then gently rap my knuckles
against it. She doesn’t say not to come in, so I cautiously turn my wrist,
pushing it open to find her sitting in the chair in front of the window.
There’s not much to look at from this angle, but she can at least see the
light starting to peek through the darkened sky. When she turns my way,
there’s a definitive thunk thunk in my chest, and I rub at the spot.
 Her cheeks are blotched red, her big blue eyes low and defeated, but
when her lip curls into a small smile and she says, “I knew it was you,” a
tiny spark flickers across her eyes.
I force a smirk I don’t feel and put more pep in my step than I feel. “Oh
yeah, and did you know I was coming in here to steal you away?”
She stares a moment, and tension wraps around my shoulders as I
prepare for her to tell me to leave, but she doesn’t do that.
Payton stands, slides her feet into a pair of fluffy slippers, and walks
past me. She pauses at the door, finds me over her shoulder, and says, “I
hoped as much.”
With that, she walks out, and I hurry after her.
Like a couple of kids doing something they shouldn’t be, we tiptoe
toward the front and silently slip out the door. We’re loaded in my Tahoe
and out onto the road in less than a minute.
She doesn’t ask where we’re going, and I don’t feel the need to fill the
silence in the car, so we sit in it all the way to the only place open around
here at this time of night. Or morning, technically…Peppy’s Diner.
Inside, we find a booth in the back corner and sit down.
Payton looks around the place, taking in how busy and loud the diner is
at this hour, and finally, a smile she doesn’t force tips her lips.
She needed a little chaos to pause her own.
“Okay.” She looks up, a little light in her gorgeous eyes. “I say we get
stuffed pancakes…and the cheese pizza.”
A laugh leaves me, and something stirs in my stomach when her mouth
curves even higher.
The cheese pizza here is disgusting, probably microwaved, and I don’t
think this girl has ever eaten stuffed carbs in her life, but I couldn’t disagree
with her if I wanted to.
So long as I have a say, she’s getting exactly what she wants. Always.
It’s not until the untouched pancakes are cold, the last piece of pizza
hanging from her fingertips that she sighs and looks my way again.
“I haven’t told anyone yet, but…” She stares into my eyes. “I’m
keeping the baby.”
The conviction in her tone is gripping, and I stare right back. “It means
a lot that you trust me enough to tell me.”
Her lips twitch, and she nods.
“We’ll all support you in this, you know. No matter what,” I add.
 She nods again. “This is what I want, and not just because⁠—”
Not just because Deaton died.
Reaching across the table, I put my hand out, and tentatively, she
presses her palm to mine. I give her a little squeeze, trying to pretend like
I’m not all tied up at the fact that she told me before she told anyone else
when I am.
“The reason is yours alone, Pretty Little. You don’t have to explain
yourself to anyone.”
Her face softens, and then a large smile blooms across her pillowed lips.
“What?”
“I was sitting here wondering what you were going to say after I told
you, and the conversation we had in my head went a lot like this.”
A low chuckle leaves me, and I sit back when she reaches for her fork
and stabs into the ice-cold flapjacks, cutting off and taking a giant bite. I
watch her every move, a smile tipping my lips.
“Nice to know I’m predictable,” I tease, unable to find the strength to
look away from the girl and not wanting to regardless.
“Not predictable.” She speaks low, her eyes coming back to mine.
“Just…Mason,” she says as if it explains it all. She looks out the window
then, the sun having officially risen.
I raise a dark brow, and when an airy laugh leaves her, I feel like I’m
fucking flying.
She’s feeling a little better, and I had a hand in that. Me.
From there, the conversation switches to random topics, and I sit back,
indulging her every question, happy to be the center of the distraction she’s
after.
It’s not until we’re parked outside Nate’s that her spirit dims again. It’s
in the way she hesitates in the passenger seat, staring at the porch of the
beach house in heavy defeat.
“I never got to tell him,” she whispers suddenly, her chest expanded
with a strangled breath. “Deaton died not knowing what I was going to do.”
“He knew.” Her eyes come to mine, and I lean closer. “He loved you,
Payton.” I hold her gaze steadily, and her lips tremble through a broken
smile. “He knew.”
Slowly, she nods, and her muscles ease before my eyes, as if
reassurance from my lips is enough to help put her mind at ease, if only for
a little while. “Thanks, Mase. You’re a good friend.”
What if I want to be more?

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MASON

N ow , A ugust

A rms crossed , fingers digging into my biceps , I glare at the little

fucker on the field.
Originally, I had agreed with Coach’s plan to use the second string to
start us out. Toss them out there, throw off the opposing team, let them
think they have a shot for a quarter of a quarter, and then make the swap.
Show them what we really got and crush their little dreams of leaving here
with the victory.
Now I wish I would have pushed back, because of course this dickhead
hits the field in my position and does what he damn well pleases, game plan
be damned.
The plan called for a pick play, and his receivers executed perfectly, feet
flying forward, one putting himself in the defender’s path, leaving the other
wide open, but what does the punk do?
He tucked and ran, doing all he could to show off his twinkle toes. He
cut man after man, not only picking up the first down but an extra six yards
on top of it.
 The crowd cheered, he got hyped, and Coach tore into him from the
sidelines. Alister looked our way with a nod, threw out some excuse he
knew we couldn’t hear, took the next play call, and went back into the
huddle.
Next play, same thing, but this time, instead of juking the outside
linebacker who came down on a blitz, flying right toward him, he leapt into
the air, coming down over his head. He gained three more yards.
Everyone went wild that time, and instead of tuning them out and
focusing on the task at hand, the freshman fame chaser turned to face them,
threw his hands up, and begged for more.
He’s a fool, and a move like that will end his career before it even
begins.
Jump too low, too late, or too high, you risk getting flipped in the air
and landing wrong. Break your wrist or injure your arm for a bit of crowd
chasing, and it’ll be game over.
Coach Rogan and I look at each other at the same time, both shaking
our heads. The clock ticks down, and finally, it’s time. I tug my helmet on
and get ready to take my position. Because it is my position.
All eleven of our boys on the field jog off, the first-string crew jogging
on for the first game of the season.
Alister slams his shoulder into mine as he passes, and our glares meet.
“Let’s see if they like you half as much as they like me,” the smiling bastard
spits.
“Don’t worry, second string.” I smirk, snapping my chin strap. “They
won’t see you enough to like you.”
Alister’s face falls, and I spin, laughing to myself as I join my team on
the field, and the second my feet plant on the turf, all thoughts of him fall
away.
This is it.
I look across my teammates’ faces, each of us nodding, all of them
waiting for my instruction, eager to follow my lead, to take themselves
where I need them and make the play happen. The air is charged, and call
me Electro, because I’m powered the fuck up.
This is what I’ve been waiting for.
What I’ve trained my whole life for.
I’m the starting quarterback at a D1 college, and I’m about to show
every person in this place exactly why it’s my picture hanging in the halls.
 And that’s exactly what I do.
I ball out, all my boys right there with me, and by the time the clock
runs out in the fourth quarter, the scoreboard reads thirty-four to thirteen,
Avix U Sharks.
I’m keyed up, jumping with my teammates as we enter the tunnel like a
pack of wild wolves after a hunt. We’re loud and rough, laughing and
joking, blasting rap music in the locker room as we listen to Coach deliver a
fiery speech that has us banging our lockers in victory. When he leaves us,
the speakers bump even harder, and we go about our own business.
I pull my phone from my locker, my smile wide.
It falls a split second later when my eyes focus on the screen.
There’s a message from my dad, my sister, and even Lolli…but nothing
from the girl who started a routine I clearly became dependent on.
After every game last season, Payton would message me, without fail. If
she was able to watch, it would be a joke about home runs or nothing but
net, playing up her lack of knowledge of the game that she knew drove me
crazy. If she didn’t, she would search for the results, coming back with a
sassy little remark, and I just knew she was smirking that cute little smirk
when she sent it, usually because she was teasing me, talking about how so-
and-so’s tight pants being the reason the tackle was missed that led to the
game-winning touchdown she found on the Avix Inquirer Instagram page.
None of it made much sense, and I knew she understood more than she let
on—I spent a ton of time breaking it down for her, after all—but that was
the fun of it. Playful teasing she started. It was our thing. I never wondered
if her message would be waiting for me. I knew it would.
It was a guarantee.
Keyword was, my man.
Frustration claws at my skin, and I toss my phone in my locker with an
angry huff, doing a double take when I spot Chase a few lockers away,
grinning down at his screen.
Without realizing I’m doing it, I’m rushing over, tearing the phone from
his hand. “Who are you talking to?” I snap.
“Bro, what the hell?” He yanks it back, shoving me away, but not before
I see the name on the screen.
Guess Lolli messaged him, too.
Chase studies me with narrowed eyes, but I spin away, squeezing my
lids closed a moment.
 I don’t hit the showers.
I grab my shit and get the fuck out.

Payton

L ifting my camera , I follow the newest addition to the team as he

flies off the starting line, sprinting to the end and blowing his opponent out
of the water.
I’m pretty sure it’s in good fun, a locker room bet maybe, seeing that
they tugged their pads off their shoulders and dropped them to the turf.
He spins, smiling as he swipes his hand through his dark hair.
The team is shouting and shoving on number thirteen, heckling him for
losing to the new guy, I’m sure, but Noah only shakes his head, walking
over to where the receiver coaches have gathered.
It’s late August now, more than a month since the one-year anniversary
—such a ridiculous expression—of Deaton’s death, and I’m feeling a little
more like myself again. The weeks leading to that day were unexpected, the
months before that even more so.
But what a beautiful mess it was.
I shake off the thought.
After Deaton died, I was stuck in a state of disarray. Confused and
unable to get past the shock of it all. For the longest time, I didn’t quite feel
real. A few months after his death, I found I wasn’t crying every single day
anymore, and the days I realized this, I’d cry out of guilt.
Who did I think I was, walking around and having lunch with my
friends, taking breathers on the beach while he was lying cold in a coffin?
A sharp pain flickers through me, and I wince.
It’s such a strange thing, to lose someone, and as sad as it is, I’m kind of
seasoned in it as if it’s a sport I willingly participate in. Technically
speaking, I lost my dad when he divorced my mom, which led to losing my
brother. I lost my friends when my mother began to meddle in my life, and I
lost my free will at the same time. I lost my senior year when I got
pregnant, and then I lost Deaton.
 Every one of those instances, I mourned in one way or another. I knew I
had to take it a day at a time, and I did. Slowly, things got better. I could
think of him and smile or laugh, missing him without complete misery.
But the one-year mark of his death? That was like nothing else I’ve
experienced, and I can’t pretend it doesn’t have something to do with an
entirely different dark-haired man.
Regardless, it was as if after a year of compartmentalizing, my boxes
were full, the overflowing weight too much to hold strong. They tumbled to
the floor with a heavy crash, the latches splitting from the locks and pouring
over me until I was a body with no heart, lungs with no air.
I felt dead inside, guilty beyond measure.
He was dead, and I lived a whole life in one year’s time.
I carried a baby to full term. I got my GED. I started an internship at the
job of my dreams, and I made it to my eighteenth birthday with a little less
weight on my shoulders.
I created a home in the home my brother and found family offered me. I
took their hands, and I held on for dear life.
Instead of sinking under at the thought of Deaton, I trained my brain to
swim, to tread the endless waters of grief until I found a way to breathe
easier.
I untied the rope around my wrists and broke the surface of my woe
whirlpool. I had a little boy to bring into this world, to protect and cherish,
and a fractured girl wouldn’t be strong enough. He deserved more. So as
time passed and I discovered where the light I felt within me was coming
from, I leaned in ever so slightly.
It wasn’t my intention to fall off the cliff, but I did.
I fell headfirst, but I never hit the ground.
Strong hands held me steady.
It didn’t take long for the guilt I lived with to grow from a warm, wieldy
pit in my stomach to a volcano of vast proportions.
It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. I mean, he’s dead, right? So what
does any of it matter?
I’m here, and he’s not.
A humorless laugh leaves me, and I shake my head, lifting my camera
once more and peering through the lens.
If only it were that easy, girl.
“Shoot, I am late!”
 I whip around, smiling wide at the sight of Ari.
“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming to town today.” She beams,
skipping down the steps and throwing her arm around me. “I was hoping
I’d catch their practice, but looks like they’re about done.”
Both our eyes move toward the field, and as if an invisible string is tied
from her to him, Noah looks up into the stands in the same exact moment.
The smile that breaks across his lips has us both laughing, and a softness
blooms in my chest, a teeny, tiny thread of jealousy tugging within me.
It takes her several seconds, but she finally looks my way again. “So
you’re back at work?”
“Thank god for that,” I admit with a light scoff. “Too much time on my
hands without it.”
She tips her head, eying me for a moment. “Have you ever thought
about taking courses at the college? Maybe they have some photography or
business classes that could help?”
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I shake my head, snapping a few shots
of the running backs and their coaching staff as they close out their day.
“My internship comes with full-scale training in the equipment and
software, and now that I’m on year two, I’ll be working on the film side as
well, moving into live shorts for social media.”
“How exciting!” She lights up, and when she looks out at the field, a
softness falls over her. “I wish I could just…be out here with him every
day.”
“Why don’t you transfer to USD with Nate?”
She lifts a shoulder, not taking her eyes off the blue-eyed, black-haired
man ahead. “I was more thinking along the lines of…dropping out.”
My eyes widen, and she laughs lightly, shrugging once more.
“I never wanted to go to college anyway, but I knew I should. Now,
though? After everything that’s happened?” She shakes her head, emotion
heavy in her voice, and I don’t know if she realizes it, but her palm presses
to her belly. “I just want to be where he is.”
I can understand that. She almost lost the love of her life in a completely
different way than most, but still she almost lost him. She understands, now
more than ever, that life is short, and we should spend every moment we
can with the ones we love most.
Unless you know what it feels like to lose that person for real and are
certain you couldn’t survive it a second time…
 I swallow, glancing at Ari once more. “Does he know?”
Her smile is sassy now. “That man knows everything I’m thinking with
one look.” She sighs sweetly. “He’s just waiting for me to be the one to say
it first.” She looks to me then. “It’s funny how the literal opposite he is of
my brother.”
Both of us laugh at that.
“Yeah, Mason is…”
“Mason” we say at the same time.
We grow quiet, and when I drop down onto my butt to pack my things,
she follows.
“The boys played their first game today,” she whispers, and the note of
caution in her tone has my muscles bunching. “Mason threw for over three
hundred yards.”
Unease stirs in my gut. I don’t know exactly what that means, but she
says it with a tentative pride, so it must be good. Does that mean he won his
first game as a starting quarterback?
Anxiety tugs at my conscience, my eyes slicing to where my phone
hangs around my neck. Did he check his phone after?
I’m sure he did, but he’s probably way too excited to notice I didn’t
reach out. If they won, I mean. He’s the starter now. Things will be different
for him this year. Busier.
He’s the man everyone will look to. The one they’ll chase after.
The one the girls will want.
“I have to go.” I jump up, offering Ari a quick hug.
Her lips curve, a question in her pretty brown eyes she doesn’t ask.
“Maybe I’ll see you before I head back to campus on Sunday?”
“Maybe.” I nod. “Have fun at Noah’s game this weekend.”
She nods back, and I spin, quickly escaping before anything else can be
said.
But before I head into the child center at the team’s headquarters, I
pause outside the door and pull up Instagram. The Avix Inquirer, the
newspaper page dedicated to Avix University, pops up, and the photo brings
tears to my eyes.
It’s him. Of course it’s him.
His hair looks nearly black, from sweat or water I couldn’t say, but it
looks good on him, the front tips flat against his forehead. His jersey is
littered with green stains, the giant number four in the center having met the
field at some point today. He has his helmet lifted high into the air in
victory, but it’s the familiar cocky tilt to his lips and wild gleam in his dark
eyes that has me inhaling deeply.
I don’t have to read the headline. It’s clear as day he came out on top.
Backing out, I tap the search engine and type out the question burning
in my mind.
What are the average yards thrown in a college football game?
I wait and wait, and when the answer pops onto the screen, a mixture of
sorrow and happiness flickers through me. Closing my eyes, I take a deep
breath. “Way to go, Superstar,” I whisper.
Maybe one day he’ll forgive me for the mess I’ve made of us.
Or maybe he’ll become so famous he won’t even remember my name.
Maybe that will be for the best.
Maybe Mason and I aren’t meant to be, and there’s someone else out
there who can give him what I can’t and better.
The mere thought is as devastating as the others.
Maybe I’m an idiot, and the story of us is not that serious.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MASON

B efore , S eptember

S he ’ s so beautiful .
Her hair looks longer and a little lighter than it did over summer.
FaceTime calls don’t do her justice, and we’ve had plenty of those.
It’s nothing like sitting across from the ocean-eyed blond who talks with
her hands and expresses every word with her whole body. She looks…
happy. Smiling and laughing.
What makes it even better is every ounce of her attention is locked on
me.
Fuck, I like it.
“Oh my god, and when you did that thing where you pretended like you
were going to throw the ball and all the other guys slowed and you just ran
right past them to the end?”
My smile is fucking geeking, face hurting from its force, but I can’t
stop. “It’s called the end zone,” I tease.
“I don’t even care what it’s called. It was so badass!” She chuckles,
finally taking a breath as she reaches for her cream soda.
 A low laugh leaves me, and I can’t stop staring. Her cheeks are flushed,
eyes bright with life, and I wish I could see her this way every day.
I wish I could see her every day, period.
“So can we say you’re an official football fan now?”
A playful scowl crosses her face, and she sits back in her seat. “Too
soon to say. It was my first game.”
“Come on now, Pretty Little. Don’t play.” I lean forward, dropping my
forearms to the table between us. “We both know you watch me all the
time.”
She pretends like she’s making herself gag by pointing a finger in her
mouth as she sticks her tongue out. “Someone is full of himself.”
“And someone is very well aware of this fact and likes me anyway.” I
grin, and she laughs, shaking her head.
“You’re all right.” She eyes me a moment, fighting a grin by pulling her
lips between her teeth.
I raise a dark brow, and she rolls her eyes, that smile breaking free once
more.
“God.” She tilts her head. “I don’t know how the girls have dealt with
you for so long.”
“Stick around and find out. It’s hard not to love me.”
The words are intended as a joke, but when she flushes and looks away,
a strange sensation zips through me, all the way down to my damn toes. I
can’t name it, but I don’t hate it. Quite the opposite, in fact.
The gang’s voices grow louder as they come back from the arcade
section of the pub, so I set my water down and stand, not ready to share her
just yet. Or at all. Ever.
“Come on.”
I offer her a hand, and she hesitates, glancing at the others briefly before
taking it. I haul her to her feet and lead us toward the back door. We step out
onto the patio and start cruising down the street.
Away from the chaos of the night, I take a deep breath.
“It’s really pretty here,” she murmurs after a few silent minutes, leading
us onto a little bridge, a small stream running beneath it.
I nod, agreeing, still surprised she and Parker drove out to catch the
game today. I wasn’t expecting it. In fact, they didn’t tell any of us. We
found out after the game when we walked to Chase’s truck and there they
were. Cameron left with some girls from her dorm, Ari had already taken
off back to her room, something she’s been doing a lot lately so I don’t even
know if she’s aware they’re here tonight, but Payton hasn’t asked about the
girls so…maybe she came for me?
As far as I know, she doesn’t talk to them on the regular like she does
me, so does that mean I’m right? Did this gorgeous girl come to my college
today just for me?
It’s a little stressful how much I want the answer to be a hard-ass yes.
Payton turns to look at me, tipping her head.
“What?”
“You got quiet,” she says softly. “You okay?”
I chuckle, licking my lips as I look off. “I’m good.”
“Promise?”
My lips twist up, and I nod. “I promise, Pretty Little. Better than good,
in fact.”
She stares for a few seconds before glancing back toward the creek.
I do the same, noting the length of it. “I’ve never been out here,
actually.”
“No?” She sounds pleased.
Does she like that I’m here with her first?
Fuck, bro. Chill.
You sound like a bitch. It’s a creek, hardly even that, not Niagara Falls.
“I stick to campus mostly.”
“Such a good boy, Mason Johnson.”
“I didn’t say that,” I tease, giving a devilish smirk.
She chuckles, looking away. “No, actually I bet you’re not.”
A small frown builds across my brow at her words, even if they are just
in response to mine, but I was being a blatant flirt, and I think she might
have taken it differently.
I want to tell her I’m not out here chasing a good time, nor am I
allowing myself to be caught by someone else who is.
It’s strange to say, but I’m not the same guy I was when I met her a
couple of months ago.
Something changed, and it might have everything to do with the girl
standing beside me.
Payton stares out at the night, and I watch as her hand falls to her belly.
I wince, waiting for the stiffness to settle in her shoulders as it usually
does, but it never comes. In fact, she smiles, spreading her fingers out
wider. It’s really good to see.
Her belly is bigger now, a perfect little basketball you can’t even see
from the back. It looks hard and painful, and suddenly, I’m anxious.
“We should go back. Sit you down and put your feet up or something,
and I can get you some ice or a heating pad or whatever and⁠—”
My rambling dies on my lips the second her little palm presses to my
chest. My eyes snap to the contact, the heat of her skin somehow seeping
through the thick material of my hoodie. I swallow and ever so slowly lift
my gaze to hers and hold it there. The humor in her blue eyes fades by the
second, a subtle but not missed shift happening around us.
Her lips part, and in what I might call slow motion, her hand draws
back, and the weirdest fucking thing happens.
I physically miss the way it felt. Literally. I frown, and she drops her
eyes to the ground.
When she lifts her head again, it’s with a soft smile, but there’s an
uncertainty to it this time. I don’t like it. Want to take it away.
So I step forward, grab her hand, and put it back, holding it there.
“Don’t shy away from me, okay?” I don’t know what the words mean,
and by the way her features pull, she doesn’t either, but they feel right, so I
keep going. “Anything you ever want to say to me, to tell me or show me or
ask me, do it. No matter what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours…
don’t shy away. Not ever from me.”
“What if what I want to say will upset you?” she whispers.
My pulse pounds harder, and I try not to overthink that. Try and fail.
“Say it anyway.”
“Are you sure?” She bites her lip.
Shit. Am I? The fuck is this twisty shit going on in my stomach right
now?
I shift her, putting her back to the bridge, her front to me, suddenly
needing her to say whatever the hell is on her mind. “Say it.”
She nods, looking away, then peeks up at me through her lashes. “I…”
Here we go.
“I think the other team had better uniforms.”
I tense and then throw my head back on a laugh, Payton joining in at the
same time.
“You should have seen your face.” She giggles. “You looked like you
were expecting me to say the end of the world was coming and you’d never
get your day in the big leagues.”
“That’s baseball.” When her mouth tugs to one side, I narrow my gaze.
“But you knew that…”
“I did.” She smiles, proud, her blue eyes shining.
Before I can stop myself, before I even realize what I’m doing, my
knuckles are sliding across her cheek.
Payton’s lips part on a gasp. It’s soft, nearly unnoticeable, but it
happened.
Heat zips through me at the sound, and I tense.
Our gazes lock, and she smiles timidly, her hard belly pressed to my
abdomen. Slowly, the hand that was holding on to hers rises once more, but
before it reaches its destination, my eyes snap to hers for permission.
Payton nods, pressing on the back of my hand until my palm meets the
cotton of her shirt.
I hold her eyes a moment, then drop them to the contact.
“It’s…”
“Weird?” she impishly adds.
“Nah,” I whisper, sliding my hand along the perfect curve. “I guess I
thought it would feel hard, and it does, but it’s also, I don’t know. Soft?”
“You should feel him kick.”
I smile at that, looking back at her for a long moment, overcome with
concern. “You’re getting close, huh?”
She nods, then stiffens, making me more uneasy. “December’s not so
far away anymore.”
“Tell me what you need.”
Her eyes pop up.
“Tell me what you need,” I repeat.
Payton’s grin is soft then. She shuffles a bit so she can step away, and
my hands fall from her. She starts walking back the way we came, and I
fight the urge to hold her still.
I don’t want to go back inside.
I don’t want to share her with the guys.
It’s irrational and ridiculous, and I roll my eyes internally.
“I’m good, Mase. Nothing to do but wait for him to be ready to meet the
world.”
There’s a sorrow in her tone I don’t like, so I wrap my arm around her
shoulders and tug her close.
 “Well then. In the meantime, let’s go back to our earlier conversation
where you tell me how awesome I am at football…even if I’m the second-
string quarterback and only played for two minutes the entire game.”
Payton laughs loudly, and when she looks up at me with those big blue
eyes, I can’t look away.
“Well, go on, then. Talk me up.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“I think you like that about me.”
Smiling, she shakes her head and faces forward. “I think you’ve got a
big head.”
“I most definitely do.”
She looks down, humor shaking her shoulders. When she finally glances
back, I give her an expectant expression, and she sighs.
“Fine.” She tugs away, clearing her throat as she makes a fist, bring it to
her mouth as if it’s a microphone.
I chuckle, and she covers her face.
“OMG. I can’t do it if you tease.”
“Okay, okay.” I raise my palms, clamping my lips shut.
Her eyes narrow, then she clears her throat again.
“Avix University took the win tonight, a feat that wouldn’t have been
possible without the one and only Mason Johnson!” She speaks animatedly,
flinging her free hand all around. “Mason played like he was made of
magic. He’s like no others we’ve seen, with an effortless elegance about the
way he moves. The man is fluid in every shift of his body. Precise in every
intention. He’s what dreams are made of, Avix U’s very own Greek god!”
She’s laughing by the end of it, this time covering her rosy-red cheeks
with both hands.
“Damn, woman.” My grin spreads. “I’m impressed. You know jack shit
about football and made that sound good.”
A shy sort of smile curls her lips, and she lifts a shoulder with a shrug.
“I wanted to be a reporter when I was younger. I might have spent a lot of
time practicing in front of the mirror.”
“Obviously.” She scrunches her nose in a feisty little scowl, and I keep
going, liking how playful she’s being tonight. “And, hey, you nailed
everything about me. I actually am the shit…again even if all that wasn’t
true and I only played for two minutes.”
 “There were only four touchdowns made tonight, Mase. It took your
team the entire game to make three. You made one in less than two
minutes.” She glances my way. “That’s something to be proud of.”
Her words sink deeper than they should, all the way to a part of me the
praise of others has yet to touch. It’s…a lot. A sort of tense feeling, one
wrapped in confusion and laced with a small sense of panic.
Does she really think all that?
Was that just part of the fun?
Does she like watching me out there?
Bro. Chill.
I laugh off the feeling and start walking, Payton falling in step at my
side.
“Careful, Pretty Little. Wouldn’t want you to give me a big head or
anything.”
“I think that ship has sailed.”
“Then you must be the captain.”
Payton peeks my way with a grin. “Whatever you say, Superstar.”
I say I might not be the only one in this…

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

PAYTON

N ow , S eptember

M y nerves are a wreck as I load D eaton into his car seat , passing
my bag to my brother when he reaches for it.
“You sure you want to ride all the way in the back?” he asks. “We can
put you and the car seat in the middle row, shove Mason and Chase in the
third row.”
“Their legs would hardly fit, three seats back there or not. Besides, this
way I have room for the diaper bag beside me, and if I need to change him,
I have space and don’t have to get out when we stop.”
“We could make the boys ride with Brady and the girls,” Kenra
singsongs. “Ari and Cam are going to be annoyed when I tell them the boys
are riding with us. We all know they are expecting them.” She buckles up
and glances back, tossing a toy at me. She smiles. “You forgot this on the
couch.”
I force my lips to curve, staring down at the plush football…that I
purposefully let fall from Deaton’s fingers before we walked out.
 Deaton spots it instantly and makes little grabby hands, so I pretend to
tickle him with it, handing it over.
“Hey, the girls know the name of the game.” My brother smiles, moving
to the driver’s side and sliding in. “First to the finish line gets the prize.”
“How were they supposed to know the boys already asked to ride with
us? Better yet, why would they want to when Brady is taking his Bronco?”
My brother meets my eyes in the mirror, and I quickly look away.
“Don’t know,” he says. “But we were still on the group FaceTime call
making the plans to go when Mason texted he was riding with us. Chase
asked a couple days later.” He shrugs, pulling from the driveway and
heading to the others’ beach house down the road. “At least this way it’s
fair.” He smirks when his girlfriend smacks his arm.
Last week, Ari realized Avix U’s bye week landed on the Labor Day
three-day weekend, giving the boys Saturday to Monday off practice. She
nearly passed out at how excited she had gotten, declaring we would all be
headed to Nevada for Noah’s game. Well, everyone but Lolli and Nate,
seeing as he has a game of his own this weekend.
It’s a six-hour road trip.
Cue the anxiety.
We pull up along the curb, the others already outside, loading up. The
second Brady realizes the boys are ditching him, leaving him in a car full of
girls, he grins.
“Oh, fuck yeah.” His excitement throws me off, but he just chuckles,
poking his head inside my brother’s SUV so he can see me. “Sure you don’t
wanna ride with us, Payton baby? No boys, which means all the good
gossip is about to pop off.”
“You sound really excited about that.”
“Oh, I am. I’m the only fucker who minds my business. Ask Ari. I knew
all her shit before the others, and did I say a word? Nope.” He smirks.
“Too bad you ratted us out every single time we went to a party without
you in high school!” Cameron shouts.
“That’s ’cause you had no business partying with our friends. They were
assholes.” He smiles. “Last chance, mama bear.” He looks my way. “You
staying with the broody train or jumping on the booty train?”
I chuckle. “Broody train?”
His face goes serious. “Dude. Mason’s got a whole goalpost up his ass.
Been that way since school started.” He looks over his shoulder,
considering his words. “Maybe before that…” When he looks back, his
eyes narrow. “Hmm.”
“I’m good,” I rush out.
His gaze narrows some more. “Uh-huh.” He points at me, and I feel like
a child scorned.
It’s ridiculous.
“Move, asshole.” The man of the hour appears, and Brady backs up
with a smirk.
“Paige! Get your little ass out here, or we’re leaving you!” he screams.
“Oh my god, Brady!” Ari hisses, her tone low. “She’s never going to
like us if you keep…being you.” She finishes with a laugh, rolling her eyes.
“Just ease up on the baby this and do as I say that. K?”
He lifts Ari off the ground, pressing a wet kiss to her cheek. “Sorry, Ari
baby. No can do. Paige!” he shouts again, throwing his head back with a
laugh.
Paige does come out then, and I can’t help but notice how pretty she is.
I think she might have cut her hair since I saw her last, the pretty,
golden-blond locks reaching just below her shoulders, curling outward to
give her an even more porcelain doll look. She’s nearly as short as I am but
petite, with the body of a ballerina and the poise to match. Her posture is
everything my mom wished mine would be, and her smile is soft, as are her
features. She’s fairer than any of us, her cheeks tinted with a natural blush.
When she smiles at Brady, he slaps a hand over his heart in pure, purposeful
dramatics.
My eyes fall to the others.
Mason is staring, too.
My gaze slides back to her, taking in her white sundress, her flats the
same bright blue as the flowers decorated across it. She’s like a walking
doll. Chase shifts in my periphery, his eyes narrowed in her direction.
The radio flicks on, and I jolt in my seat, my eyes snapping forward,
finding Mason staring at me with a blank expression. Slowly, his eyes slide
to his friend outside the car, and I take that moment to sink farther in my
seat.
Thankfully, everyone piles in, and I focus on giving Deaton all my
attention. We play peekaboo and tickle monster. He spends at least ten
minutes holding on to my finger, lifting and lowering it over and over again
as his little arms flail.
 I clap a few times, and he smiles, sticking his fingers in his mouth and
making a little squeal. I laugh and hold my hands before him. It doesn’t take
long for him to understand, and he grabs my fingers, pushing them together,
helping me clap.
“Your turn, mister man.” I take his hands and clap them together.
He kicks his feet with excitement, making soft cooing sounds. I let go,
hoping he’ll finally figure it out on his own, but he just reaches for mine
again. We go back and forth for several minutes. Trying something new, I
clap his hands a good five times, making animated smiles and sounds as I
go. On the last clap, I let go but leave my palms hovering close to his own,
and he instinctively follows the rhythm, his hands meeting in the middle
with the softest little clap.
His blue eyes widen, as does my smile. He tries again, missing the first
time and then again, clap, clap, clap.
“You did it!” I shout, my heart freaking melting when a laugh bubbles
from his throat.
Both Chase’s and Mason’s heads whip around, both men pushing up in
their seats to get a look at his face. I spare them a smile, quickly looking
back to Deaton.
He claps again, so happy at the sound he’s creating that he keeps
laughing, his little face turning red.
“How is this the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen?” Mason stares
intently, his best friend chuckling at his side.
“’Cause it is.” Chase reaches back, brushing his fingers along Deaton’s
curly hair.
Mason watches his friend’s every move, his frown deepening by the
second. He, too, reaches back then, the frown wiped free when Deaton
instantly wraps his fist around Mason’s pointer finger. He drags it right into
his mouth, slobbering all over him before Mason can pull back.
“Always straight to the mouth, huh, my man?” Mason laughs, retreating
slightly, and then he’s on his knees in his seat, stretching his torso over me.
I press against the seat, trying to disappear, but there’s nowhere to go,
and then he’s right there, his face inches from mine, brown eyes as stormy
as ever. I hold my breath, shocked at what he’s doing, panicking over the
others seeing. But then his hand comes back up, and in it is the little plush
football Deaton tossed a while ago.
 Eyes still locked on mine, he passes the toy to Deaton. “Here you go,
little man,” he murmurs, finally pulling back.
He spins in his seat, and I sink in mine, my cheeks burning. I don’t have
to look up to know someone’s eyes are on me. I don’t know whose, but I
feel them.
I peek to the screen on my phone.
Only four more hours.
Fuck my life.

I t ’ s after dark when we pull up to the pump at the gas station .

Ahead of us, everyone piles out at once, stretching and walking our way.
My brother gets out to pump the gas, and the others peek in, whispering
when Kenra puts her fingers to her lips.
“He’s sleeping?” Ari coos, cupping her hands to look at him through the
far back window before sticking her head back in her brother’s door once
more. “How’s he done on the drive so far?”
“He’s been fine,” Mason answers before I can, and I frown.
“If crying for forty minutes until he was hiccupping in his sleep and
freaking Mason out means fine, then he did perfectly fine,” Chase teases,
leaning away when Mason reaches over to punch him on the arm.
“I did not freak out,” he snaps.
“No? You only stared at him for fifteen minutes after, checking his pulse
when he got too still.”
Cameron and Brady laugh at him, but his sister practically has hearts in
her eyes.
“Hey, his head kept falling over!” Mason defends. “I had to make sure.”
“His mama was right beside him.” Chase fights a smile. “You were
being ridiculous.”
“It was sweet.” The words leave my mouth before I realize I’m
speaking, and Mason’s head yanks my way.
His eyes pierce mine, something flashing behind his dark orbs, but the
spell is broken when Cameron starts talking.
“K well, we’re starved, and there’s, like, fifty thousand fast food options
here. We figured we’d grab and go, save some time.” She hooks her long
arm around Ari.
The others pile out, and when I hold back, Parker leans in the door.
“You staying behind?”
“Yeah. It’s a miracle he’s sleeping still, now that the car stopped, so I
don’t want to wake him if he’s not ready.”
“We’ll grab you something.”
I nod, and he closes the door, locking us inside.
I stretch out on the seat, arching my back and rolling my neck.
Moving so my legs are over the seat in front of me, I close my eyes,
taking advantage of this moment alone, knowing I might not get many
others over the next few days.
Just when my muscles begin to relax again, Deaton’s soft clap has my
eyes snapping open.
I giggle, staring at my little boy and moving over, taking him from his
seat.
“Well, well. Aren’t you a master at that now.” I hold him up, and he
stretches his arms up high before locking his legs and jumping up and down
on my thighs. “Someone’s excited, isn’t he?” I kiss his cheek, dropping
onto my knees in the small leg space I have. “Hate to have to do this to you,
but we’ve got to get you changed.”
Surprisingly, Deaton doesn’t fuss, just stares up at the seat belt, trying to
wrap it in his tiny hand as I get him all cleaned up and changed into a
warmer sleeper.
Setting him on his feet, I keep one of his hands in mine to help steady
him and let him lean his weight against my legs for support. I dig a jar of
baby food from the bag and the small container of mashed bananas. He only
takes a few bites of the chicken and rice concoction but devours the fruit.
Just as I get to the last bite, he starts to fuss, rubbing at his eyes again, and
starts tugging on me.
“Okay, little man. Okay.” I pull a bottle out, hoping he’ll take the
formula okay, since I’ve only stopped breastfeeding for a handful of days
now.
Of course, the change in our routine isn’t settling for him, and he bats it
away several times, whimpering slightly.
The door opens then, and I look up to find Mason there, an Arby’s bag
in his hands. He looks tired, almost worn out as he holds it up without a
word, and I force a smile, accepting, fully aware of what’s inside it without
him saying a word.
“Can I hold him a minute?” he asks, quickly adding, “You can run in,
use the restroom, stretch or whatever.”
“He’s a little fussy…”
Mason pushes the seat forward, then walks around and takes Chase’s
seat, reaching back with open, expectant arms.
Slowly, I pass Deaton over, not looking back as I climb out of the car.
I take my time, use the restroom even though I don’t need to, and walk
the aisles since no one else is standing around the car yet. I grab a cream
soda and a pack of cheese crackers before heading back outside.
Kenra and Parker are standing by the pump now, Ari waiting to climb
back into the Bronco after Cam.
“They’re so sweet.” Ari beams my way just before pulling her door
closed.
I frown, looking to my brother and his girlfriend, but they’re both just
leaning against the hood, playing on their phones.
I open the SUV door to climb in but stop short.
Mason is passed out in Chase’s seat. The bottle I left him with is half-
empty in his hands, Deaton curled up on his chest, sleeping like a little
angel.
My features pull, something in my chest doing the same damn thing.
Despite myself, despite the pain and anger sparking within me, I can’t
deny there’s more.
They look so peaceful.
So…precious.
They look like father and son.
The thought splinters through me, shattering the shell of respite I’d built
back up.
With jerky movements, I push the seat forward and begin to pull my
baby from his arms.
Mason’s grip tightens around Deaton at first, his eyes snapping open
with a glare, but the moment he realizes it’s just me, his hold eases, and I
swiftly take my son back. Silently, I climb into the back seat, buckling him
back into his car seat.
Just as I get settled, Chase reappears. He sees Mason in his spot and
goes around to the other side.
 “Here.” He grins, passing back a cream soda and a pack of cheese
crackers.
A small chuckle leaves me at the sight, my muscles locking when, in my
periphery, Mason’s body shifts this way, but I don’t look at him.
I thank Chase and sit back, hiding my own snack in my bag so he won’t
feel bad, and cover my head with a blanket to pretend I want to try and get
some sleep.
Yes, it’s a coward’s move, especially when I know I won’t be able to
sleep for several more hours.
Still, I sit there silently, breathing through a mask of fleece until the car
rolls to a stop and my brother announces we’ve arrived.
That’s when I learn about the sleeping arrangements.
If I thought this trip was going to be tense before…
It just went into overdrive.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

MASON

N ow , S eptember

“N inety - seven , ninety - eight , ninety - nine …” I reach my goal , then

do two more. I quickly pop up from the push-ups and jog in place for thirty
seconds. My shoulders ache, my core muscles pulsing, but I drop back
down again, this time into a five-finger plank.
The burn in my abdomen is intense, but I breathe through it, counting
down from forty-five, then hold a little longer before collapsing on the mat.
“You’ve been in here for almost three hours.”
I push up onto my ass, folding my arms over my bent knees, and look
toward the door.
Chase shoves off the frame, slowly stepping into the garage of the
Airbnb we rented. He glances around, noting an elliptical, a treadmill, and a
station of free weights. “So this is the home gym included, huh?” he says
quoting the ad.
I scoff, nodding toward the bucket in the corner. “At least they have
mats to put down. Saw a couple of jump ropes in there, too.”
 Chase nods, moving over to the treadmill and climbing on. He ties his
hoodie up over his head and starts with a slow jog. “You skipped breakfast.”
“I had a protein shake.”
“You went to bed without talking to anyone last night.”
“I was tired. Why you so worried about me?” I snap, shoving off the
ground and pulling my shirt over my head. I use it to wipe the sweat from
my face.
“Because I see what’s going on.” When I say nothing, he adds, “You
didn’t come to class on Thursday. We had a test.”
I look away, wrapping my T-shirt around my neck, and move for the
door.
“We’re here to relax and hang out with our friends a couple of days,
Mason.”
“I’m aware.”
“Don’t fuck it up.”
“Me?” I whip around. “What could I possibly do to fuck it up?”
He eyes me a moment, increasing the speed he’s running at and hitting
an incline. “You’re in your head. You have been for a while. I’m not sure
what’s going on exactly, but I think I know enough, and you’re running
toward ruin. Try to let it go.”
I scoff, turning my back and heading for the door. “I bet you would just
love that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he shouts after me, but I close the
door.
The house is quiet aside from the TV running in the living room, Kenra
asleep on the couch.
Grabbing four cold water bottles from the fridge, I down one and carry
the other three toward the room down the hall. With a soft knock, I push the
door open.
Brady is out cold on the twin bed on the right side of the room, his skin
clammy, while Cameron and Paige are sitting up on the other bed. Cameron
has a box of tissues and a blanket wrapped around her, reading from a
school textbook, while Paige is staring at the TV that has no sound coming
from it.
Fuck, I guess I should have brought my books, too. Not that it would
help. There’s no way my professor lets me make up the test, not when I’m
already behind in her coursework. I grit my teeth, pushing the worries aside,
and meet the girls’ gazes.
“Hey.” Cameron smiles through a light cough.
I wiggle the water bottles. “Brought you guys something cold to drink.”
I set them beside her and look to Brady. “He good?”
“He’s been snoring like a bulldog for the last two hours.” Cameron
shrugs. “So he’s alive at least. Thinks he can sleep off the ick.”
Paige laughs, then groans, her hands flying to her temples. “I’m so sad.
I can’t believe we’re going to miss the game tonight. Who gets sick sitting
in a car for six hours and doesn’t get better when they get out of it?”
They were hoping the vomiting was from car sickness, which neither
usually gets, but all three woke up feeling just as shitty as they did when
they went to bed.
“There will be plenty more games to go to. Just rest, maybe try to sleep
it off like Brady.”
Both girls push out their lower lips into a pout, and a grin pulls at my
lips.
“Let me know if you need anything. One of us will make you guys
some food before we leave.”
“Noah’s not here to work his magic in the kitchen.” Cameron throws
herself back dramatically. “So, my sweet Paige, that means all we’re gonna
get is canned soup.”
“I can bring it to you cold.”
Cameron gives a fake smile, fluttering her lashes. “Canned soup will be
just fine, please and thank you. But if you don’t mind, I’m climbing in bed
with the beast. He’s burning up, and I’m freezing.”
Shaking my head, I go to step out, but Cameron pops over to the door,
grabbing the frame, so I pause in the doorway.
Her smile is softer now as she looks up at me, whispering, “You okay,
Mase?”
Tension tugs at my chest, and I force a nod, but I can feel the frown
along my brow dig deeper. “Yeah, I’m good. Perfect. Fine.”
She tips her head slightly, reading the lie on my tongue easily enough.
“Sometimes people fight against things because they’re afraid of how
they’ll play out.”
For a moment, I’m stuck staring at her, but then I manage to force a
laugh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, girl. Go on. Get in bed
with Brady. Feel better, okay?” I think I manage a grin and then softly close
the door behind me.
The minute it’s shut, my face falls, and I squeeze my eyes closed.
Get a grip, my man.
Sighing, I head upstairs. I go to enter the room I was moved to, but my
hand won’t wrap around the handle. I move past it into the bathroom for a
cool shower.
My muscles bunch under the spray, slowly easing with each passing
minute. I take a deep breath, trying to block out the stupid thoughts racing
through my head.
So Chase bought Payton a soda. Big deal.
I’m sure Ari and the others know her drink of choice, too, just as I know
what they like. Sure, I’ve known them for most of my life, but that doesn’t
make a difference, right?
Yeah, it’s normal to notice things like that.
What’s not normal is the ghostly color she turned when Ari announced
the room changes, since the others got sick on the last half of the drive.
It’s not like she has to share with anyone. She just got moved from the
one downstairs she was originally going to stay in to the one upstairs where
us boys are, and only so the baby would have less chance of getting sick.
Instead of still sleeping close to the sick girls and Brady.
Yeah, that puts her right next to me and Chase, but so what?
Maybe she’s just worried the baby will wake us up?
Chase sleeps like the dead, when he sleeps at all, so I doubt he’ll even
notice. He’ll stick to the living room, watching ESPN like he does back at
the dorms, only going to his room to sleep.
Me? I’ll be waiting, okay, hoping, to hear that little cry that tells me
they’re up. I want to hold him, and I need a minute alone with her.
Might have to yell at her, I don’t know yet, but she’s going to talk to me.
She needs to tell me we’re on the same page.
That she didn’t change her mind.
Shit.
What if she did change her mind?
W rapping my arms around A ri , I lift and spin her in the air .
“How’d you like that, baby sister?” I shout, the hype real and the two beers
I had while waiting for Noah to get here warming me up. “Your man just
won his team the game!”
“And not one but two touchdowns!” Brady, who says he sweat out his
sickness, screams into the air, turning to a group of random strangers
walking into the pub, wearing jerseys. “Hey. Number nineteen is my girl’s
man. You see him out there?”
The women giggle and walk off, but Brady isn’t deterred, telling
everyone in the vicinity Noah Riley is a badass and entirely spoken for.
Noah drops his eyes to the floor at the praise, quickly stepping up and
demanding his woman back. The second Ari’s on her feet, he’s got her
wrapped in his arms, and I turn away when he bends down to whisper
something in her ear.
Love the guy…but she’s still my sister.
As I swing around to face the others—we’re cooped up in the back
corner of the only restaurant in walking distance to both the stadium and the
rental—a frown pulls at my forehead.
Payton passes Deaton off to Chase, heading toward Brady when he calls
her name, and I reach Chase just as the other two curl around the corner.
His eyes pop up, and he leans back slightly, not realizing I was so close
as the smile he had pointed at my little man fades. “What’s up?” His brow
furrows.
“Give him to me.” I reach out, but Chase doesn’t pass him over right
away, so I take a step closer.
Chase shakes his head, as if just realizing what I said. “Yeah, man. I was
going to order some more wings or something anyway.”
He passes him over, but Deaton’s still between us when Payton
reappears.
She steps up, taking him from both our hands. “Thanks,” she mumbles,
sliding between our chests to get to the others, but I gently wrap my hand
around her upper arm, halting her movement.
Her eyes snap my way, pleading and flicking to Chase for the briefest of
moments. “I’m going to go sit by Ari and Noah. He wanted to hold him,
so…”
I want to hold him.
I miss him. Can’t you see that?
 My fingers twitch against her soft skin, and it takes ample effort to let
go, but I do. I step back, my jaw clenched so fucking tight I might need a
dentist after this shit.
It’s fine.
No big deal.
Noah and Ari lost so much, it’s good for them to bond with my little
guy.
Besides, I’m still his favorite.
Everything is fine.
When I face forward again, Chase is still there.
He eyes me warily, keeping his voice low as he leans in. “You good,
brother?”
“You gonna stop pissing me off, brother?”
His head jerks back, and I curse under my breath, lurch past him, and
head to the bar on the other side of the room, taking a minute to settle
myself. Or trying, at the very least.
It helps that the place is packed to the brim, especially since the
bartender doesn’t bother or forgets to ask for my ID—not that it would
matter, because I have a fake one that hasn’t failed me yet—when I order
two pitchers of cheap beer.
The waiter follows me back to our section, setting several chilled mugs
beside the pitchers, and I look up at the others with a forced smile.
I meet Noah’s gaze first. His head is cocked as he stares at me, Deaton
jumping up and down in his hands, his little feet smaller than the cardboard
coaster he’s kicking around. Ari sits at their side, concern written in her
gaze.
My attention falls to the tabletop, and I fight the scowl threatening to
take over.
Am I being that transparent here?
What do they see when they look at me?
A man who isn’t wanted?
Fuck.
I grit my teeth and pour the golden liquid into a mug, offer it to my
friends.
Every single person passes, and my pulse jumps in my throat.
Fuck it. Whatever.
I drink the glass myself. And then I drink another.
 And another.
A while later, a smile breaks across my face.
Who finished the other pitcher?
“Guess I didn’t have to drink alone after all.” A chuckle leaves me, and I
glance up when Brady drops beside me. “My man!” I shout, wrapping my
arm around his shoulder and yanking his big-ass body closer. “I fuckin’ love
you.”
“Ditto.” He chuckles low, placing his forearms on the table and coming
so close my vision crosses a bit. “You feelin’ good over here?”
“Fuck yeah.” My body seems to sway a bit, and I laugh again, lifting
my glass. When nothing comes out, I bring it before my eyes. A frown is
instant. “Who drank my beer?”
Brady scoffs, bumping his shoulder into mine. “Might wanna slow
down, my boy. Long drive back tomorrow.”
“I don’t have to drive.” I shrug, thinking about the long-ass way here. “I
just gotta sit there in my seat. Get ignored some more.”
Brady glares, and when I look up, Payton is staring with a turbulent
expression.
Is she sad? Mad? Worried? I don’t know, but if I know her like I think I
do, she’s a bit of all three. But why? I’m the one dying over here.
It’s my chest she’s cracking open and my heavy beating heart she’s
tearing out, one tug at a time. And for what?
Or is it for who?
No. It can’t be.
But what if it is?
The alcohol in my system brings my blood to a boil at the sideways
thoughts, and my eyes narrow on the pretty blue ones holding me hostage.
“Hey, Brady.” My voice carries over the noise, my gaze locked on my
girl. “What’s Payton’s favorite thing to drink?”
“What?” he chuckles.
Payton’s eyes fall then, and guess who walks up behind her? I glare at
my other best friend, but I repeat my question to the one at my side. “Her
favorite drink. What is it?”
“Uh…Dr P?”
My limbs shake. “Wrong.”
Chase shakes his head, dropping down on the bench-like seat beside
her, and she faces his way, answering whatever question he asks.
 “Dude,” Brady whispers. “What am I missin’?”
He might keep talking. It’s hard to tell when my eyes are locked on the
Chatty fucking Cathys a few spots over.
What could they possibly have to say to each other?
Chase hardly talks to any of us anymore, ever since he realized his
mistakes with my sister.
I thought he felt like shit, that he was embarrassed by his actions and
couldn’t face us because of his own inner bullshit. That sounds like the
Chase I know.
I love that fucker. Die for him if it came to that.
But maybe I was wrong.
Maybe he’s being sneaky.
Maybe they both are.
Payton’s tense laugh reaches me. It invades my mind and sweeps
through me, the sensation calming and right, but then my brain catches up.
He made her laugh.
He made her laugh, and she won’t even talk to me.
She’s talking to him.
He knows what she likes to drink.
“Are you two fucking?”
Gasps and sputtered curses fill the air, but I hold the gaze of the girl
who’s breaking my fucking heart here.
“Tell me the truth.”
“Mason. Please,” she whispers, but her eyes scream so much more.
They tell me how disappointed she is, how out of all people I should
know the answer to that question. That I shouldn’t have to ask it in the first
place.
But I do.
“Did you make him a promise, too?”
“Stop,” she begs.
“Did he tell you that⁠—”
“You’re drunk, man. Just quit talking before you say somethin’ you
regret.” Chase steps around the corner. “Let’s get you back to the house,
huh? You need to⁠—”
“You need to stop trying to get with girls who aren’t available!”
Payton turns beet red, Ari gasps, and Noah’s eyes grow wide.
 Brady steps up with his hands raised. “All right. Enough. Let’s take a
breath here, and⁠—”
“Fuck you, Mason.” Chase cuts him off.
“Nah, fuck you!” I shoot to my feet, my arm shooting out to keep
balance. “I’m trying to talk to her.”
“Not like this.”
Rage rolls through me, and even my spine starts to shake. “You think
you can speak for her?”
“You guys,” Brady tries again.
“At least she’s speaking to me!”
My fist flies so fast no one’s stopping it. My knuckles come down
across his cheek, and Chase’s head snaps to the side.
Instantly, everyone screams and shouts.
Security barrels over, and I hear my friends yelling, but my feet are
already being dragged across the floor. I’m eating a mouthful of dirt in
seconds, my head pounding, vision as foggy as a winter morning.
Someone helps me to my feet, and when I look into Chase’s eyes, I
yank away.
“Get off me, man.”
“I’m helping you, jackass.”
“No, you’re fucking with me. Everyone is.”
He shakes his head, and I stomp my way toward the Airbnb, the soft
murmurs and footsteps of the others not far behind.
When we reach the door, I stumble to the side, letting someone else
open it.
No one bothers to tell me to come in, so I let it get shut in my face,
wondering when the wall behind me is going to stop wobbling.
Who knows how long I stand there, but eventually a waft of warmth
greets me as someone steps out.
“Oh my god, your hand.” Soft fingers brush my wrist, but I yank it
back.
“Don’t pretend to care.” I blink, pretty blue eyes coming in and out of
focus.
“That’s not fair,” Payton whispers.
“You know what’s not fair?” I rasp, my head rolling to the opposite side,
lids too heavy to keep open. “What you said and what you’re doing. You’re
killing me.” I breathe, forcing my lids to open and meet the prettiest eyes
I’ve ever seen. “I’m fucking dying here, baby.”
Her beautiful face is blurred, so I raise my hand to make sure she’s
really there, that I’m not imagining it. The second my knuckles meet her
silken skin, I jolt. Pain slices through me, and I stumble away in panic,
gripping my wrist.
“Fuck.” I look at my hand, but there’s too many fingers there. “Fuck,
fuck, fuck!”
I jerk, stumbling into the house, and manage to find my way to the
bathroom.
I struggle to reach the faucet of the sink, finally figuring out how to get
the damn thing on and shove my hand under the stream. “Shit!” I yank it
back, the water too hot.
I reach up again, but soft fingers gently curl around my shoulder, sliding
down my spine, and my head falls to my chest, the sensation shutting off
everything else. All I feel is her.
God, I want more.
“Let me help you,” she murmurs.
“You can do whatever you want to me, Pretty Little. Anything. Always.”
Payton grabs my other hand, leading me who knows where, but I follow
like an eager pup, and then I’m sitting on something soft. My eyes close,
only opening again when a cooling sensation meets my knuckles.
Strawberry-blond hair and puffy pink lips hover above me, like my own
little angel.
“Where’s my little man?”
“Sleeping. I laid him in the playpen before I came back outside to get
you.”
I nod, my head turning when the bed shifts. Payton sits on her knees,
gently setting the bag of ice over my knuckles.
Several quiet minutes go by before she speaks again, and when she
does, it’s a low, torn whisper that claws at my insides. “I know things
are…” She shakes her head, unsure what the right word is or unwilling to
say it.
It doesn’t matter though. None of it does.
This girl could stick a knife in me, marry my best friend, and disappear
for a decade, and so long as she came back for me in the end, it would. Not.
Matter.
 Only one thing does.
My fingers stretch under the Ziploc covering them, the tips brushing
against her bare knee.
Slowly, her eyes come to mine.
I blink through the fog in my vision, trying to control the alcohol
bobbing in my brain so I can hold her gaze. I reach out, tucking the loose
strands of her hair behind her ear, my palm lingering in the spot.
Subconsciously, Payton turns into my touch, her eyes closing. “Mase.”
“I fucking miss you.”
Her whole body quakes.
“Can I hold you?”
She sucks in a choppy breath, those blue eyes on me.
“Please, Pretty Little…” My eyes start to close, my words more slurred
than the last ones. “I need to hold you.”
“And I need to take care of you,” she murmurs.
My mouth curves at that, and I fall into my memories of the first time
she spoke those words to me, desperately holding on to what happened
afterward.
My life changed the last time she took care of me.
Everything changed that day.
But what will I wake up to tomorrow?

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER NINETEEN

MASON

B efore , N ovember

T ugging my sweats on , I towel dry my hair and step out of the

hotel bathroom. Noah’s chilling in the same spot I left him, grinning at his
phone like a fool.
“That better be my sister you’re smiling at, dick.” I hear her laugh and
grin to myself as I slide back into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
When I come back, Ari’s girlish squeal fills the room.
“Ah shit, you told her, didn’t you?” I shout, popping my head beside
Noah’s to catch a glimpse of my sister on the screen.
“Holy shit!” She beams, Cameron crowded beside her.
“I know.” A chuckle leaves me, and I give a playful glare when tears fill
her eyes. “Knock it off.”
“Oh my god, Mase.” Her tone is thick with emotion. “You’re going to
rock it.”
“Love you, girls.”
“Love you!” they shout.
 I heave a long sigh, stepping out into the hall before I, too, get
emotional. That would be embarrassing in front of my captain, but aside
from that, I don’t want to get sappy when I’m juiced like this.
What I want is to share this with the first person who came to mind
when I learned the news.
I pull her name up, anticipation firing inside me with each ring, but
when her voicemail picks up in the end, a defeated breath pushes past my
lips. I kick off the wall, ready to head back to the room, but before I make it
a single step, my phone is ringing, a picture of an unsuspecting blond
staring out at the ocean lighting up my screen.
“Pretty Little,” I answer.
“Superstar.”
My lips curve, and I can picture her smirk. “Why didn’t you answer my
FaceTime call?”
“Not everyone can look as perfect as you all the time.”
“I mean, duh.” She laughs in my ear, and I lean back against the wall. I
like her laugh. “If everyone could, my superpowers would be insignificant.”
I pull the phone way, hitting the FaceTime button again. “Answer, Pretty
Little. I wanna see your face when I tell you what I called to tell you.”
“You just want your way.”
“Also true.” I chuckle, nodding at two of my teammates when they walk
by and moving so I’m a little farther down the hall. “Come on now, and
don’t tear your lower lip apart thinking too hard about it.”
She goes silent, and I smirk to myself. A moment later, I’m accepting
her video call.
She pops up on the screen, her head propped up on a mountain of
pillows. Her face is makeup-free, hair spread out around her and wet from
what I’m assuming was the shower, if her pink pj’s tell me anything.
She looks as perfect as ever.
My smile is ridiculous. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She smiles back, shaking her head. “I never thought a pregnant
belly would help hold things for me, but a little extra blanket and boom.
Hands free.” She wiggles her fingers, and a low laugh leaves me.
I can’t help but note the color in her face and lax expression. She’s
having a good day. No dark circles or redness around the eyes. I don’t think
she cried today, and damn if that doesn’t send a sense of pride through me.
She’s strong, and I hope she’s starting to realize it. “You look good.”
 She scoffs, pushing herself up and holding the phone back to show me
her swollen belly. “I look like I swallowed a watermelon and got stung by a
hundred bees.”
“Watermelon is my favorite.”
“And the bees?” She lifts a brow, her playfulness making me all the
more eager to share my news.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” I ask, knowing she’s going to roll her
eyes cause we both know she’ll be watching my game, if only to text me
something in her brand of silly afterward.
She smiles, and I wait to hear it. “Actually, I’m going with Lolli to
watch Nate’s game at USD.”
My face falls instantly.
She sits up, a small frown pulling at her forehead. “Why? What’s up?”
“Nothing.” My answer is too quick, and worry washes over her, her
mouth opening, but I quickly add, “Hey, I’ve got to go. Don’t think about
me too long, all right?”
She doesn’t buy the grin on my face, but a small smile does curve her
lips. “In your dreams, Superstar.”
We hang up, and I wonder what she would say if I responded with more
often than not.
Sleep doesn’t come so easily after that. I’m too keyed up, an anxious
excitement blending with the bitter taste of disappointment knowing my
girl, I mean Payton, won’t get to see me in action.
Sure, she’ll catch the highlights like always, but it’s not the same. I want
her to hear the roar of the crowd and know she’s sitting on the edge of her
seat when I step out on that field. ’Cause there is no doubt in my mind she
would be, just like my sister and Cameron will.

O r are right this minute , because it ’ s time , and nothing is going to

sour this moment for me.
Let’s.
Fucking.
Go!
 I growl, stretching my lips out along the mouthpiece as I bob from foot
to foot, hopping high into the air to the heavy beats blasting through the
stadium speakers, but it’s go time now.
Slowly, the music fades, the crowd goes crazy, and I watch with sharp
eyes as Jency Fayo, our kick returner, catches the ball and dances his way
down the field. He jukes left, then right, spinning until he passes the thirty-
yard line. The defenders come at him from every direction, and he goes
down at the twenty.
A hand slaps my shoulder, and I look over.
Noah grins, shoving me forward. “Take it home.”
“Let me show you how it’s done, pretty boy.” I smirk, and Noah
chuckles goodheartedly, not in the least put off by the fact that I’m starting
in his position today.
We couldn’t be more different in that sense. He’s mentally secure in
what he does and has to offer.
I know I’m good but have no greater fear than falling over the edge of
insignificance.
I need to do well, show Coach he made the right choice when he offered
me this position, knowing his star player won’t be coming back next year.
None of my hard work matters if I’m not wearing that C marking me
team Captain next season, when Noah retires it on his way to the NFL.
None of it.
I jog out alongside our starting offense, and the second my cleats hit the
turf, all the noise falls away, my brain fires on a hundred, and I become the
fucking game.
The call is given, the team lines up, and my nostrils flare as I drag in a
long lungful of charged air. I give the signal, and the ball is snapped.
It’s a good fucking snap, the leather between my palms, the laces
tingling against my skin.
The call is meant to confuse the defense, my side shuffle and the drop of
my wrists leading them to believe we’re going for a quick toss to the
running back. They shift, my line holds strong, and I step back, firing down
the field. My receiver is wide open, and the ball drops into his open gloves
with precision. He’s taken down instantly, but that don’t matter.
The crowd goes wild, the chains are moved, and it’s first down, Sharks.
We jog down the field, bending into position, ready to get the next play
underway. This time, the snap goes a little high, forcing me to call an
audible and change the play on the fly to maximize the potential of success.
The O line opens up a gap, and I break through, my legs pumping, ball
gripped tight. The safety drops down, and a linebacker charges from my
left, so I propel my feet faster, getting one extra yard before sliding onto my
side.
The whistle is blown, and I pop up, tossing the ball to the ref.
First down again.
Fuck. Yes.
The coach gives the next play, an outside slant, the target being the
deepest corner of the end zone, and I’m going to make it happen.
We get set. I line my boys up and step back.
“One! One!” I look left, then right. “Set, hike!”
I drop back, focused downfield, shifting on my feet as I get ready to
bomb it. I draw back, knowing without a doubt this ball is gonna land
between ten fingers with ease.
My arm whips forward, and I don’t see the moment my line collapses.
I’m blindsided. As hard as a bull, I’m slammed on my right side. My body
bends, and in the same moment, a second body collides with my left. My
lips pull back, pain exploding in my ribs. I briefly register my feet leaving
the ground. The crowded stadium whips across my vision as my helmet is
thrown from my head seconds before my body slams into the ground,
emptying my lungs and turning the whole world black.

I t ’ s no wonder people go mad after long stints in the hospital . T he

incessant beeping of machines alone is enough to drive you insane, and if
that doesn’t do it, the pitying looks from the nurses will.
Outside of a quick phone call to let my family know I’m alive, I’ve
spoken to no one over the last twenty-four hours.
My team is already back on campus, preparing for a long day of
practice tomorrow, and I’m sitting in a fucking wheelchair at an airport. The
gang thinks my cousin is picking me up, but I lied to my sister when I told
her that.
I can’t face any of them right now, especially Nate when I saw the score
from his game. He slayed, and I got fucking filleted.
 My cousins likely think I’m headed back to my parents’ house, and my
parents think I’m headed to the beach house where my cousins can help
look after me. I don’t plan to tell anyone, and I’m hoping the others won’t
find out I’ll be staying just down the road. I don’t need their help or pity
during this mandatory recovery period.
That’s right. I’ve been benched, deemed useless to my team.
Not my team. The team. The team I’m technically not a part of for the
next who the hell knows how long.
Who gets injured on the first drive of the first game they start in at a
higher level?
Weak, slow, worthless fuckers, that’s who.
A familiar truck pulls up, and my buddy jogs around, but I don’t meet
his eyes. I can feel him staring though, taking in my injuries and this chair I
don’t need but am required to sit in so long as the team facilitator is
standing beside me.
The second he pulls open the passenger door, my glare grows deeper.
“I can open a door.” I push to my feet, forcing myself to stand tall. My
ribs scream in protest, but I don’t show it.
Duke lifts his hands and stands back, watching as I walk toward the
vehicle, my hoodie tight due to all the bandages wrapped around me
beneath it.
My shoulder is on fire, burning like a dozen branding sticks are pressed
into my skin, but I hide that, too. I climb inside and don’t look his way
when he glances over.
Duke is a cool dude, a surfer we met years ago who gives cheap lessons
off the pier. Sure, I had to pay him to come get me, but I like it that way.
Now I don’t feel obligated to talk, and he’s perfectly happy to sit back and
listen to the soft rock bullshit he likes so much.
Needless to say, the ride is a long one filled with nothing but shitty
music and an overwhelming array of emotions, the easiest of those to hold
on to being anger. Anger is good. I might buckle under anything else, but at
least rage can be funneled into something else.
When we pull up to the beach house, he parks in the damn grass, getting
as obnoxiously close to the front door as possible. He’s grinning when I
swing my scowl on him, and I almost relax, but the tension doubles when I
struggle, and he quickly looks away.
Sighing, I face him with a forced smile. “Thanks for coming, man.”
 “I was free, so no big.” He shrugs. “Let me know if you… Just call if
you want.”
I nod, climbing from the truck, every inch of my body objecting. That’s
the only reason I don’t get pissed when he carries the small, worthless
duffel I had taken on the away trip. There’s nothing in there but a
toothbrush, some deodorant, and the pills the doc sent me home with, the
clothes I’d brought for the ride home already on my back. I don’t even have
a phone charger.
He doesn’t try to come in, and I don’t bother with an invite, just close
the door and hide myself inside.
With each aching step, I curse the world a little more, determined to
make it to the kitchen for a glass of water.
By the time I get one filled, my limbs are shaking, and it hurts to
breathe. Pushing off the island, I head back for the living room. I nearly
pass out from the throbbing in my temples, my hand shooting out to grip the
wall, but of course, my dominant hand is what goes out to save me, sling be
damned.
“Ah!” I scream in agony as my shoulder erupts in flames, and this time,
my knees buckle.
The glass falls from my fingertips as my body goes down. It shatters
across the tile floor, and I slam into the broken shards, screaming again
when my ribs seem to crack a little more.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I shout, kicking at the wall, my head lolling to the
side.
That’s when I do a double take, my entire body freezing in horror, gaze
focused out the floor-to-ceiling window of the back deck.
One the other side, big blue eyes stare back at me in shock.

Payton

M y mouth is hanging open , my limbs frozen as I stare through the

clear glass.
Mason.
He’s…here.
 Why is he here?
He squeezes his eyes closed, and mine fall. The blood on the floor is
what snaps me out of it, and I jump up, my camera tumbling to the wooden
deck beneath my feet as I dash for the slider. I tug, but it’s locked. My eyes
snap up to him, but he’s facing away from me now, so I run around the
wraparound porch. Thankfully, the front is open, and seconds later, I’m
barreling into the house, coming to a screeching halt when I reach the
kitchen.
“Oh my god.” My hand drops to my belly, worry washing over me and
completely unsure of what I’m really looking at. “Mase.”
“Leave.”
My head snaps up, our eyes locking, and he gives me a look I’ve never
seen from him.
Anger. His lip is curled, teeth clenched, and there’s a dark fire in his
brown gaze.
I move closer.
“I said leave,” he snaps, his head yanking in the opposite direction.
I bend down in front of him, one hand holding on to the island to keep
me steady, my other trembling as I reach out and brush my fingers over his
knee.
Slowly, he glances over, and the bravado falls instantly. “Please leave,”
he whispers, his tone so desperate, something stirs in my chest. “I can’t
stand you seeing me like this.”
“Well, we have to get even, don’t we?” I whisper, smiling softly when
he frowns. “You’ve seen me a heck of a lot worse.”
A hint of a smile tugs at his lips before it’s gone. “So you’re saying this
is only fair?”
I shrug and he drops his chin to his chest.
“Can I help you stand? You may or may not have glass sticking out of
your ass.”
Mason huffs a laugh, and instantly his back bows, a harsh wince
whooshing past his lips. He starts panting, and worry claws at my throat.
He’s hurt, that’s obvious. But how? When?
I stand, tugging gently on his left hand, seeing as his right is cradled to
his chest, but he doesn’t budge, instead yanking back with a look of horror
on his face.
“The baby.” He shakes his head.
 “If I feel like I’m straining myself, I’ll stop. Trust me.” I reach out
again, and Mason’s jaw twitches.
Slowly, he allows me to take his hand, but he gives me little to no
weight, his nostrils flaring with his own exertion. He turns slightly as he
stands, leaning a hip against the island, and I shift behind him. I glance at
his back, and there’s no glass in his sweats I can see, so I shuffle closer,
hoping he’ll lean on me at the least.
“Be careful,” he whispers. “Don’t get glass in your feet.”
I look down at the sandals I’m wearing but say nothing as I try to slide
under his left arm, but he doesn’t allow it, shifting away and moving ahead
at a slow pace.
His posture is rigid, his fist bloody and clenched. I follow behind as he
makes his way toward the couch and eases himself down.
A harsh breath hisses past his lips, and he drops his head back with a
pant, as if it took all he had in his tank to get there.
My heart rate picks up, concern consuming me. He’s so pale, no sign of
the forever tan I know him to wear, and his face is scrunched in pain and
misery. Before I turn to a pile of panic, I rush back into the kitchen,
snagging the first aid kit.
When I come back, Mason glances my way from the corner of his eye.
“I’ll be fine. You can go.”
I lower onto the cushion beside him.
“I’m serious, Payton.”
I fold my feet under me.
He faces forward with a frown. “I’m tired.”
“I could use a nap.” I tip my head. “I mean, you’re just a little bruised.
I’m the one carrying around a bowling ball.”
A grin splits his lips, and he jerks, his hand flying to his ribs. “Fuck, it
hurts to even think about laughing.”
I say nothing, and after a stretch of silence, he sighs and holds his palm
out.
Gingerly, I take one, using a pair of tweezers to remove two small
pieces of glass, and then wipe the skin clean. The little cuts aren’t big
enough to need a Band-Aid, but I add one anyway because they have little
footballs all over.
Mason glares at the small white strip, and realization hits me hard and
fast.
 Oh my god, football.
My eyes fly to his face, and when he looks at me, it’s with a loaded
expression I know all too well. It’s panic and pain. It’s fear and loss laced
with utter disappointment.
And it’s all pointed right back at himself.
I have a million questions, and based on his next words, it must show.
“I’m guessing you haven’t talked to the others?”
I wince, feeling a little guilty. “I’m sort of…hiding out?”
He turns his head my way fully, worry etched in his brown eyes when
he’s the one who’s hurt. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
Something stirs in my stomach, drawing a sort of tension there. Mason
is sitting here, hardly able to move a muscle, and he’s worried about me?
“I’m fine,” I manage to whisper.
Now he glares, and a low chuckle leaves me.
“Honest.”
“Tell me anyway.”
I fight a smile. Even in complete disarray, he’s still got his bossy boy
edge. Or man.
I peek at him a moment, taking in his sharp features and vivid dark
eyes.
Yeah, he’s no boy.
Clearing my throat, I focus on his hand. “So my dad showed up out of
the blue.” I pause, scoffing as I unfold my legs to get more comfortable.
“Well, supposedly it was out of the blue. I grilled Parker, and he swears he
didn’t know he was coming, but I feel like that’s a lie.”
Mason nods slightly, waiting for more.
“Anyway, he asked me to dinner, and I felt like I couldn’t say no, so I
ended up agreeing, canceling on Lolli last minute.”
“And?”
I smash my lips together. “And I wish I hadn’t.” I frown. “It’s just we’re
not exactly father and daughter anymore, you know? When my mom
refused to let him see me after he left her, he didn’t exactly go out of his
way to try to get around that. But now that I got out of that house, he’s been
around, if only over the phone, since he still works as much as he did when
we were kids. I do appreciate the effort, I guess, and I love him in a way I
could never love my mom, but I lost him a long time ago. I learned how to
be fine with that.” I shake my head, looking away.
 “What is it?” he asks.
This time, it’s me who drops their head back. “He asked me to move in
with him. Says he has room for me and the baby and⁠—”
“No.”
My eyes flick up to his, and his narrow further.
“You can’t go. Don’t go.”
My stomach stirs with something unnamable yet familiar, and a heat
touches my cheeks. “I don’t want to. I like it here.” I peep at him to find a
strained expression on his handsome face, like he wants to say something
but isn’t sure what would come out if he opened his mouth.
“Anyway,” I quickly continue. “He took me to this cute little restaurant
in Santa Monica, and when he dropped me back off this morning, I just…
walked over here. Lolli’s and Kenra’s cars were both parked in the
driveway, and I didn’t feel like talking. I’ve been sitting on the back patio
all day.”
“Did you eat?”
“I’m fine.”
“Did you eat?”
Fighting a smile, I look up into his brown eyes. “Yes, I ate.”
I hold his stare, and with every moment that passes, a deeper sense of
torment creeps into his gaze. He wants to talk, but he can’t quite form the
words yet.
It must be bad.
The last thing he needs is to feel forced to chat when he isn’t ready. I
would know. So I take a page from the Mason Johnson playbook, prop my
head on my fist, and say, “Want me to kick his ass?”
I don’t know who “he” is, and clearly a fight didn’t do this to his body,
but the line I borrowed from him does its job.
Another pained laugh escapes him, and he turns to me with a wretched
smile, borrowing a line just the same. “So how boring is photography?”
“Well, Superstar.” I shift toward him. “Let me tell you all about it…”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY

MASON

B efore , N ovember

I wake with a wheeze , pain cording through me like venom entering

the bloodstream, making it hard to fucking breathe. My entire body aches as
if I were hit by a dump truck, then tossed into it with a load for compaction.
My lungs can’t stretch past half-full, and my ass is sore from being in a
sitting position all through the night. I turn my head, my jaw clenching at
the strain it puts on my shoulder, and I spot my phone on the nightstand. I
try to reach for it, but it feels like I’m being torn in two.
“Fuck,” I pant, and the short gasps only make everything hurt even
worse. “Ahh,” I groan as I toss my legs over the side of the bed, taking
short and quick exhales as I tug myself over until my feet can reach the
floor.
My eyes squeeze closed, and sweat beads at my forehead from the little
exertion. I’m so fucked, my muscles screaming ten times louder today.
My attention falls to the wraps along my ribs, and I glare at the sling
holding my throwing arm against me.
 Images of the moment before my body was thrown into the air flash
before me, and I grind my teeth. I should have seen them coming. Evaded.
Cut in the other direction or threw away the ball.
I should have dipped or ran or… “Fuck!”
Shaking my head, I stretch my left arm out, my limb shaking as my
fingers brush the edge of my phone. My cheeks expand from the effort, and
I have to slip a little more off the mattress to grab it, but I can’t get a good
grip. It falls to the floor with a thud.
“God damn it!” I scream, just as muted shouting reaches my ears.
My head snaps toward the bedroom door, and with slow movements, I
push myself to my feet.
I release a sharp exhale, the stretch of my stomach almost opening my
lungs up a little, but the pressure of my broken ribs creeps in a moment
after. The pain’s too much, so I stand still a moment, trying to focus on the
sounds coming from outside the room in order to forget the knife fight
happening inside my body. At first, I think I’m hearing things, but then it
sounds again.
My brows dip, and I drag my ass from Ari’s room, my temporary room
since mine is upstairs, and head toward the living room. As I come around
the corner, the giant television stares back at me.
My eyes snap across the screen, taking in every detail, every player, and
slice back just in time to watch as my body flies into the air, spinning from
hits from both directions. My helmet is torn off on impact, and I’m
slamming onto the turf with a thunderous boom.
There’s a sharp gasp, and I realize it’s not coming from the replay.
My head jerks left.
Payton stands at the edge of the couch, fingers pressed to her lips,
staring up at my seemingly lifeless body on the screen.
I must move, because her head suddenly yanks my way, and she pales,
fumbling with the remote to turn it off, but I reach her before she can,
wrapping my palm around hers.
Big blue eyes fly up to mine, tears and an apology written within them.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“For what? Caring enough to want to know what happened?” I hit play,
my gaze moving between hers and the announcer’s worried words playing
from the speakers around us as I give her the real details. “Two fractured
ribs and a sprained shoulder.”
 Her lip trembles, and there’s a whole other kind of pain behind my ribs.
“Don’t cry.” My free hand lifts of its own accord, thumb trailing along
the soft plumpness of her mouth. “Not for me. I can’t take it.”
Her attention falls to my body, fingers coming up and gingerly touching
the wraps across my skin. She traces every inch and starts to shake a little.
“Are you okay?”
With one finger beneath her chin, I tilt her head up, our gazes
connecting.
I was planning on saying something, but the second those big blue eyes
collide with mine, my train of thought disappears. All that’s left is this deep-
seated need to touch my lips to hers. To press farther against her and see
how close I can get, though I’m already aware the answer would be not
close enough.
I need more.
I want more…and I don’t think I’m the only one.
Her fingers fan out across my chest, the tiniest part of her pinkie now
pressing to the naked skin just above my wraps, and fuck me. A shudder
slashes through me.
Something shifts in her gaze, and the world falls away—my injuries, the
pain. The crushing sense of loss.
It’s all gone.
She’s all that’s left.
My hand glides along her jaw until I’m cupping her cheek in my palm.
She doesn’t blink, just stares straight into my eyes with this endless
intensity. Her lips part, pretty blue eyes widening as her fingers bite into me
a little more, and all I can think is Yes. Dig them deeper. Mark me more.
My muscles clench, my pulse jumps, and then something knocks
against my stomach. Once. Twice.
We both freeze. A small frown pulls at my brows, and then it happens a
third time.
Slowly, I look down. “Is…is that…”
“Yeah,” she whispers, my free hands already on its way to her pregnant
belly.
She takes half a step back.
I take a full step forward, pressing my palm against the front, and the
baby kicks again.
A smile breaks across my face instantly, and I look at her.
 There are tears in her eyes again, but there’s also more. Something
deeper.
Something almost…raw. It thumps against my chest walls, a sensation
too profound to put into words yet too delicate to understand.
It’s heavy and light at the same time.
A weightless force, drawing me to her.
Calling me to her.
My torso tips, my upper body curling over her tiny frame. A hiss
instantly whooshes past my lips, my muscles screaming in disapproval, my
body having moved on its own without thought or care to its condition.
Her eyes fly wide, and she pulls away, blinking rapidly. “Oh my god,
you need to sit down.”
She goes to step by me, but my good hand flies out, latching on to her
before she can. She gasps, looking up at me with a desperate sort of
confusion, the same emotions flitting through my own mind, but I don’t
care to listen right now. Not to my body or my mind.
“Pretty Little,” I rasp, her mouth the North Star to my broken compass,
leading me fucking home.
“Well, fucking, well!”
Payton literally jumps at the sound of Lolli’s voice, and both of us look
toward the back door.
Payton smiles sheepishly, and I frown at my cousin’s girl.
“I brought French toast.” Lolli smirks, holding up a plate of food.
“Unless of course you’re hungry for something a little more…” Her saucy
tone trails off when she notices my bandages, her face pinching with worry.
I tense instantly, heat crawling up my neck, and I go to turn away, but
then the little blond beside me jerks forward, using her tiny body to try and
hide my much bigger one from view. Like she’s protecting me, and just like
that, the black cloud hanging over me turns a lighter shade of gray.
“Thanks, Lolli,” Payton says swiftly, rushing her way and taking the
plate from her. She sets it on the counter with one hand, clasping Lolli’s
bicep with the other, shocking the shit out of me when she leads Lolli all the
way to the door, gently nudges her out of it, and, with a tone that brooks no
argument yet somehow still holds gratitude, says, “I’ll let you know if we
need anything else.”
Alone on the other side of the glass doors, Lolli gapes from her to me,
but Payton’s not done. She yanks the sheer curtains across the window,
closing us off completely before she spins to face me.
And I’m. Fucking. Stuck.
She holds me captive as she walks back this way, tucking her long
blond hair behind her ear with one hand and snagging the plate of food with
the other. Payton grabs my fingers, and I let her lead me to the couch, where
she shoves some pillows in the corner. She doesn’t let me go until I’m
sitting back against them, and then she lowers onto the coffee table in front
of me.
She bends, digging into something at the foot of the couch, and when
she says “Open,” I don’t question her.
I open my mouth, and she drops two pills inside before lifting a cup
with a straw to my mouth. My lips wrap around it, eyes on hers the entire
time.
I release it, and she grabs the plate, setting it on my lap.
“Here.” She pushes to her feet, rushing toward the back door. “Now that
they know I’m here, I’m going to go home and grab some things.”
I watch as she slides her feet into a pair of sandals, my pulse beating a
little harder at her words. “Things?”
Her head lifts, gaze finding mine over her shoulder. “I need to take care
of you.” A small frown pulls at her brows. “Please don’t say you don’t need
me here.”
“I want you here.”
Her hand freezes on the handle, and for a moment, she just stares.
I didn’t mean to be so blunt, but there it is, and my response has nothing
to do with my injuries.
In truth, she’s the last person I want to see me like this, all busted up
and weak, yet somehow, at the same time, the reality of my situation is a
little less devastating when mixed with her presence. Like maybe my entire
world didn’t come crashing down and maybe this isn’t the end of it all.
Sitting in that hospital, I felt like my entire life had fallen apart. It was all I
could think about on the trip back to Oceanside, how things might have
changed for me forever.
That I’d lost everything I worked for, my future included.
Then there she was with big blue eyes and the softest fucking touch I’ve
ever felt. She sat beside me and smiled, and everything else fell away
because it was a real smile. One without all the pain I’ve watched her carry
the last several months.
 I knew right then I not only wanted her to stay, but I needed her to. I just
didn’t know if I could say that to her, so when exhaustion hit and the pain
doubled, I used it as an excuse to go into another room. I would have rested
on the couch next to her, but I didn’t want to have to watch her walk out.
Yet here she is, still here hours later, and she’s not asking if she can stay.
She’s telling me she’s going to.
A ripple rolls through me, realization breaking through the last layer of
fog in my mind.
There’s no more maybe.
No more I might.
All that’s left is I am.
Because I am completely fucking gone on this girl.
I don’t know how it happened, and I don’t care when.
All I know is she snuck up on me, and I’m not mad about it.
Someone’s shouts intrude from outside the cracked-open door, and the
moment is broken.
Payton slips onto the back patio, and I drop my head back with a huff.
The minute I’m alone, it’s like the light she brought left with her. All the
negative thoughts come rolling back, coiling around my limbs like a snake
has snatched me as its prey.
Fangs forge their way into my lungs, and I gasp. I blink, but the haze
won’t clear, my heart now working overtime, threatening to tear through my
rib cage. I try to swallow, but knots form in my chest, panic threatening to
suffocate me where I sit.
I’m an athlete who can’t play. A student who can’t go to school. A man
who can’t protect.
I’m completely. Fucking. Useless.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

PAYTON

N ow , S eptember

P ressure falls heavy on my chest , and I reach up as if rubbing the

ache away was a possibility. It isn’t. I should think pain is something I
would be used to by now, and maybe in some ways, I am. I am in the sense
that I know when I open my eyes in the morning, pain is quick to follow
whatever sensation I wake to, and when I lie down at night, pain is the last
thing I remember.
Sometimes it’s a hollowness that seems never ending, one that grows,
chipping away at the density of my bones, leaving me brittle. Other times
it’s like an avalanche, and I go tumbling, buried under mounds and mounds
of pressure.
Then there are the times when it’s but a tangled web in my mind,
memories and moments spun into fear and fate. I’m caught in a loop of
damned if I do, damned if I don’t, and I don’t know how to get out of it.
I don’t know what’s right and wrong, and lately, I wonder if I even care.
I should, but do I actually? Or is it some sort of societal ideal that
frowns on falling for someone new so soon after losing the person you
promised yourself to that has me messed up?
The truth of the matter is none of that makes a difference, because the
damage is already done. There is no stopping it, no backtracking or
changing what I feel for the man before me, and that means all that would
be left of me if something went wrong is an entirely different dose of
heartache and everlasting pain.
I couldn’t survive that. I can hardly handle this, and it’s my own doing,
so I can’t even begin to imagine all the ways in which I’d crumble if I fell at
his feet and then something swept him away.
My eyes trail over Mason’s features, and I reach out, running a shaky
thumb along the tension lines between his dark brows. They shouldn’t be
there.
Mason, if nothing else, is a worrier and stress case. Almost always, his
thoughts are made up of someone else, something I’m sure has only gotten
worse after Ari’s accident. He was known to pick apart his performance
with a fine-tooth comb or kill himself with concerns over what his sister
had going on or his parents being too far for him to get to if they needed
something fast.
But these lines, now nearly ingrained in his handsome face, didn’t
invade his sleep before.
Yet here he is, out cold on a bed that isn’t his in a town we don’t live in,
with deep creases lining his forehead and a tight pinch to his perfect lips. I
can’t pretend I’m not the reason behind the restlessness he’s experiencing.
I’m causing him pain, and that makes me sick to my stomach.
What’s worse, Mason looks thinner, his hair not as trim as normal and
his usually smooth face littered with a shadow of stubble. I glance to his
hand, the ice pack I brought in sliding more and more off his knuckles with
each uneasy twitch. There are even slightly dark circles beneath his eyes,
telling me he’s not sleeping like he should.
Gingerly, I open my palm, pressing against the heat of his cheek. Mason
leans into my touch instantly, and sharp prickles sting behind my eyes when
a ghost of a grin appears.
“My Pretty Little,” he slurs, his lashes fluttering, but his eyes are too
heavy to raise. “Why’s she doing this to me?”
I clamp my hand over my mouth to keep the cry threatening to slip at
bay and cautiously push to my feet, my eyes trailing over his pale face as I
take backward steps toward the door. I pull it open as slowly as a snail,
stepping out before looking back inside one last time, and when I close it, I
take a moment to lean my head against the frame.
It’s as if an anchor is tied around my neck, tugging me farther down by
the second. My emotions battle for dominance: guilt and sadness, confusion
and regret. But it’s the overpowering sense of longing that burrows me
deeper into the sand, because what right do I have to miss someone new
when I’m supposed to be missing someone else?
I want to rewind time and speed it up at the same time.
I want to go back and shield him and jump forward and walk away.
More than that, I want the exact opposite.
I hate what life has done to me, but I hate myself for what I’ve done
even more.
A soft clink of glasses snaps me out of it, and I take a deep breath,
blinking several times to clear my head before stepping from the hall into
the open kitchen area of the rental.
Everyone turns the minute I appear, varying expressions of concern on
each of their faces.
“He’s asleep,” I whisper, offering a small smile as I cross into the space
to join them, Deaton’s baby monitor sitting right there in the center of the
table.
The sight makes my heart beat a little faster, and I’m forced to blink the
tears away all over again, because my god, I’ve never known such real
friendships existed. I never have to ask for their help or support. They give
it freely and without fail. Without expectation.
Brady pulls out a chair beside him, patting the cushion, and Ari scoots
the bowl of chips closer to the center.
I lower into the seat, a heaviness on my chest as they end whatever card
game they were playing and redeal to include me.
It would be a lie if I said I’m the only one who feels the tension in the
air tonight. With Paige and Cameron still feeling sick, Ari worried about her
brother, and likely all of them trying to work out what exactly happened at
the pub tonight, the mood has turned sour.
It’s clear everyone only rallied to make sure Mason was okay, especially
when we don’t make it through a full game of Uno before we’re calling it
quits and Ari and Noah are jumping up to make us a late-night snack.
I trudge over to the couch to get more comfortable, and I can’t help but
stare at the couple hovering over the stove.
 Noah slips behind Ari, wrapping his arms around her as he holds her
hand in his, a pair of tongs tight in her fist. He helps her flip a slice of
Spam, then turns his head, whispering something in her ear, and her head
falls to his chest in silent laughter. The spatula is set down, and slowly she
spins in his arms, their lips meeting in a soft kiss. I should look away, but I
can’t.
There’s just something so pure about the sight that a small flicker of
hope warms my bones. They just stand there, staring into each other’s eyes
with a look akin to longing, which is crazy because they’re together. But I
guess that’s the thing about finding that one person who was meant to be
yours.
There’s no such thing as too close.
No such thing as too much.
No such thing as letting go.
That warmth turns to ice, and I swallow to settle the sting.
A coffee cup slips into my vision, and I blink, looking up into a pair of
green eyes.
Chase is wearing a tight expression, his smile forced and eyes a little…
sad. “Don’t torture yourself with that view,” he whispers, peeking quickly
into the kitchen. “It’s just warm tea.”
A small smile pulls at my lips, and I take a moment to smell the herbal
aromas steaming from the mug. “Thank you.”
He nods, and I can’t help but glance toward the kitchen once more.
Ari’s sitting on the edge of the counter now, Noah between her legs,
eyes intent on her as she tells him god knows what, but the look on his face,
it’s complete and total awe.
The man is enraptured. Midsentence, he reaches up like he just can’t
help himself and takes her face in his hands. He doesn’t say anything, and
she just smiles in return.
Sighing, I look back to Chase.
He lifts a brow, speaking in a hushed tone. “It’s like watching a chick
flick in real life, isn’t it?”
“What do you know about chick flicks?”
“Do you have any idea what Cam and Ari put us through growing up?
Forcing us to sit through romance movies was their favorite form of
blackmail when they’d find out we lied about going out so they wouldn’t
ask to come.”
 “Why not just let them tag along?”
“You mean aside from Mason being a protective asshole when it came
to his sister?”
A smile breaks across my lips, and the two of us laugh. I can’t help but
notice he doesn’t seem all that bothered by the happy couple, even if there
is something troubling him. He could have easily gone to bed to avoid this
altogether, yet here he is, sitting beside me in perfect view of the girl who,
once upon a time, wanted to be his.
And when Noah looks this way with a smile, calling out, “Hey man,
want to come grab a couple of these?” Chase grins and hops up, strolling
right in there. He brings back two skewers stacked with cubes of pineapple
and fried Spam.
I take a bite, rolling my eyes to the sky dramatically, and Chase
chuckles. “Why is this so good?”
“Why is he good at everything he does?” he mumbles.
My head snaps his way, and when I find him grinning around a
mouthful, I’m the one who laughs.
After the quick treat and low conversation about the drive home
tomorrow and where they want to stop this time for food, everyone decides
to head to bed.
Instantly, my mind jumps back to the heavy part of the evening, and I
push to my feet.
I don’t know what my face shows as I say good night, but Brady is
suddenly at my side. He kisses me along my temple and whispers, “It ain’t
your fault, baby girl. The man’s in his head. It’s been a hell of a year for us
all, you more than most, and under all that mess he’s making, he knows
that.”
He smiles reassuringly, but all I can do is nod and accept the hug he
offers.
I know once I close the door behind me, locking myself inside my
room, I won’t be able to sleep, but I’m simultaneously afraid I will sleep
just fine and what that will bring.
My eyes fall to the playpen beside the bed, zoning in on the full head of
dark curls and puffy little lips parted with soft snores.
I run my hand up and down Deaton’s back, patting his butt a couple of
times before tugging the blanket a little higher on his shoulders.
 If I close my eyes, I can picture his dad here with me and what he’d say,
but his voice is a little harder to reach for new conversations, only words
he’s spoken to me able to play out in my mind.
Brimming with guilt and desperate for connection, I lower onto the bed,
fold my legs beneath me, and open my laptop, hovering over the folder icon
for a long moment before squeezing my eyes closed. I click on the little
blue folder, counting to five before opening my eyes.
Hot tears pool instantly as hundreds of small frames pop up, nearly
every single one a shot of Deaton’s face—not little Deaton but his daddy.
There’s us at thirteen playing in the pool and us at fourteen sneaking
onto the carousel ride at the county fair after being told we were too old. Us
at my house and at his. School dances and his family’s fundraisers. At
wrestling meets and the stupid pageants my mom forced me into.
A choked laugh leaves me as I scroll past the photo I took of him from
the last pageant I was ever in. Deaton found me crying in the changing
room after an epic fight with my mom over a half-eaten apple she found in
the trash can—because how dare I eat so many carbs before the swimsuit
segment? When I refused to come out, he put my swimsuit top on over his
tank top and danced around the room. It was ridiculous and so out of
character for him, but I smiled and laughed, and he said that was the point.
He was good at that. Taking my ugly life and painting it pretty.
He was my best friend.
I keep going, memories assaulting me with each flick across the touch
screen.
Walks in the park and trips to his family’s cabin when he would steal the
keys. The day I got my license and the day he failed his driver’s test for the
third time. The first day of junior year and the pep rally I shot for the school
newspaper’s article on the football team…
I swallow, my heart rate jumping and sending a hint of panic through
me.
Football games and walks on the beach and dancing to no music at
all…
My eyes squeeze closed, warmth rolling down my cheeks.
The boy who died and the man who’s still here…
I gasp, eyes flicking to the ceiling as I inhale deeply.
With shaky hands, I close out of the little blue folder, holding my breath
as I locate a second, this one buried within several other files, forcing my
clicks to be deliberate and never by mistake.
I open it up, and tears fall without fail.
The very first image in the gallery isn’t of me and Mason.
It’s just him, sitting on the back deck of the beach house, his head
tipped back against the cushion…my son held tight in his arms with a fuzzy
blanket wrapped around him. Fast asleep.
They were both asleep, and I can’t help but notice how not a single line
is to be found on Mason’s expression. He’s blissfully passed out, my baby
boy wrapped in his strong arms.
My eyes flick to the thin wall separating me from Mason.
He’s right there. He’s within reach. All I have to do is go to him and end
this.
My feet carry me to the door before I realize it’s happening, and slowly,
I tug it open.
“Hey.”
I yelp, my hand flying to my chest, eyes narrowing on the dark hall.
Chase’s grin comes into view as he comes closer. “Sorry, I thought I
heard you up, and I couldn’t exactly sleep either,” he whispers.
“If only we could sleep half as good as Deaton does,” I tease, glancing
back at my sleeping baby. My eyes fall to the open laptop, then bounce to
the wall Mason is behind once more. “Umm…” I face forward, pressure
pulling at my muscles as I force my feet still when they’re desperate to
move toward the man in the room next door.
“It’s not too cold out. Want to sit outside for a bit?” Chase offers.
I hesitate, trying to fight the irritation sweeping over me while
wondering if I should simply tell him no and march myself right into
Mason’s room, his best friend’s eyes on my back be damned. I would be in
there already had he not appeared, lowering myself onto the mattress beside
Mason and…
I swallow.
And what, Payton?
Forget you have to protect yourself, shield your son from the
devastation you’d be left in if…
Chase’s smile falters a bit, and I shrug off my thoughts. It’s not his fault.
He’s being thoughtful, offering me an escape from my thoughts with the
presence of good company.
 “Yeah,” I relent, a bitter taste on my tongue as I grab the baby monitor
and a blanket, allowing him to lead the way. At the end of the hall, I glance
back, staring at the outside of Mason’s door for a moment.
It’s for the best.
Filling my lungs with air, I spin to follow Chase out back.
I set the monitor on the little table and watch Deaton’s chest rise and fall
a few times before looking up at the sky. We’re both quiet for a long while,
and I know when he finally turns my way, he has questions.
“Mason hasn’t been himself for a while now,” he says instead, green
eyes holding mine.
I nod. “He’s…angry.”
Something softens on Chase’s face, and slowly, he shakes his head.
“Nah. He’s not angry. Trust me, I’ve been on the receiving end of that a
couple dozen times.” His chuckle is light but as heavy as the sigh that
follows. “This is different. I was hoping he just needed a break, to forget
about all the pressure he puts on himself. You know it’s half the reason Ari
demanded we all come this weekend, right?” He looks my way. “Noah
bought her a plane ticket originally, but she wanted to get Mase off campus
for a bit. Group shit and game nights usually do the trick.”
I swallow, hoping he doesn’t notice.
“I can imagine it would.” I nod, a fragile smile pulling at my lips. “You
know, I never had a game night before I met you guys, and now it’s like a
regular thing. I find I look forward to it.”
“No?” He frowns slightly. “What did you do with your friends on nights
in?”
Bitterness coats my tongue. “I didn’t exactly have any that lasted
beyond elementary school. My mother’s bullshit was too much for most,
and if the girls my age didn’t care, their parents did.”
Chase nods. “Okay, so what about you and Deaton?”
I wait for the sharp pain of guilt at the mention of his name to slice
through me, but it never comes. In fact, that never happens when I talk
about him with Chase. It’s…nice.
I can’t help but wonder if it’s because being with Chase doesn’t
overpower my thoughts the way a certain someone seems to without even
trying.
I consider his questions, thinking back to the days he and I spent
together, and a small frown builds when I come up blank. It shouldn’t be
such a difficult question, right?
We were in a relationship. That should say it all, so why am I drawing a
blank?
He’d come to me when he couldn’t stand to be at home, and I would do
the same, which was often for both of us. Angry, sad, or lonely, we’d seek
each other out.
Pressure builds in my chest, and I shake my head at the way that
sounds. As if we were nothing but the stability and support the other craved.
A product of convenience. We weren’t.
Right?
What did we do when we hung out?
Faintly, I answer, “I don’t know. Talk shit about our families, play on
our phones.” A small smile tugs at my lips, and I look his way. “Make
babies apparently.”
Chase laughs at that, his head falling back slightly, and he shifts to face
me better. “Apparently.”
My smile holds, and I nod. “He was a good guy. Kind and gentle. Never
pushed or picked fights. Yeah.” I pause. “He was good.”
“He must have been.”
I look to Chase, and he continues. “You loved him, so he must have
been.”
We stare at each other a moment.
“You’re worth someone’s love, too, you know.” I take a breath, adding
the second part in a low tone. “She just wasn’t the one meant to love you
back.”
Surprisingly, his lips pull into a smile. “I know.”
“Are you sure?”
Chase chuckles, slowly pushes to his feet, and moves for the door.
“Trust me. I’m sure,” he says, glancing my way with a look I can’t quite
decipher. “I’d better head in. I’m behind the wheel tomorrow for Brady.”
I nod but don’t rise, and Chase smiles softly.
“Good night, Princess Payton.”
I meet his eyes in question, and his mouth pulls to one side.
“It’s better than Princess Puke,” he jokes, and a tired chuckle escapes.
He leaves, and it’s not until the door is closed behind him that I realize I
didn’t want him to go, though even once he does, my feet don’t carry me
inside.
 Brady’s words from earlier come back and begin to loop in my mind.
He was right, it has been a hell of a year. Longer than that in my case.
If that much could change in twelve months plus time, who knows what
the hell could happen in a single season, and fall is fast approaching.
I wonder what life will look like come winter.
Nothing could have prepared me for the answer to that question.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

PAYTON

B efore , N ovember

“N ate helped set up the nursery , and L olli and I washed all his little
clothes a couple of weeks ago. Everything is ready for him, but he seems
perfectly happy squashing my lungs.”
Deaton links his hand in mine, chuckling softly. “Pretty soon, he’ll be
here, and you’ll be wishing for a night of peaceful sleep,” he teases.
I smile, running my free palm up and down my belly. “That’s the same
thing Vivian said.” I look up into his brown eyes. “You would like her and
her husband. They’re nothing like our families. They’re kind and loving,
and they go out of their way just to be a part of his life.” A pinch of sadness
makes itself known, but I shake it off. “I wish you could have met Mason’s
mom and dad. They’re good to me. Always checking on me.”
“I’m glad you have them,” he whispers. “Your new friends, too.”
Warmth washes over me, and I close my eyes, snuggling closer to him.
“I don’t know what I would do without them.”
“What would you do without him?”
A frown builds, and I look up.
 Deaton smiles down at me, but something rings, and he looks to the side
a moment before coming back. “I have to go now, Payton.”
“Wait—”
The chirp of my phone wakes me, and I squeeze my eyes closed,
wishing my dream could have lasted a little longer, but they never do. I
always wake up too soon.
Sighing, I pick up my phone and clear the dumb weather notification
that popped up. The time catches my attention—it’s nearly ten in the
morning already. Mason and I stayed up way too late again watching old
VHS tapes and arguing over who played the best Batman. Clearly it was
Christian Bale.
“Shit.”
The low hiss comes from the kitchen, and I grin, the slight tinge of
burnt toast teasing my nostrils. Thank God for the third trimester; no more
obsessive vomiting over the subtlest of smells. I scoot to the edge of the
cushion, using my arms to help hoist me off the seat.
It’s sad how much effort it takes to stand right now, but I guess that’s to
be expected when you’re fifty-plus pounds heavier than normal.
There’s a soreness to the pads of my feet as I make my way into the
kitchen, and when I come around the corner, I can’t stop the laugh that
escapes.
Mason’s head jerks up, the action causing him to wince.
“You look⁠—”
“Sexy? Rugged? Like a total man’s man?” he supplies.
“Adorable.”
Mason glares, but it’s playful, and I move closer, swiping the flour off
his chin.
He grins down at me. “Good morning, Pretty Little.”
“Good morning, Superstar. Why are you sneaking around the kitchen
with a frilly apron on when you’re supposed to be resting?”
“I have rested. For four days, I’ve rested. I’ve sat on the couch all day,
each day, and I can’t do it anymore.”
“But your ribs⁠—”
“Are going to heal just as slowly if I’m standing as they will if I’m
sitting.”
I must be frowning, because the next thing I know, Mason is pushing
closer, his knuckle running along my forehead.
 “Pretty Little, as much as I like you worrying about me, and I do by the
way, you need to stop.” His eyes lower to where my hand rests, and small
bubbles seem to burst in my belly.
“Worrying about you isn’t hurting me, Mase, and just because you say
stop doesn’t mean I’m going to.”
He nods, his attention still locked on my stomach. Suddenly his eyes
pop up, and a smirk takes over. “Sit down, girl. I’m about to hook you up.”
And he does.
Mason pulls chocolate muffins from the oven and bacon-wrapped
sausage from the air fryer, setting it out between us. He toasts a few slices
of bread next, without burning them this time, and brings over a bowl of
scrambled eggs he had sitting in the microwave.
I can’t stop smiling as he comes over to join me. “This looks amazing.”
“Good. Eat. We’re leaving this damn house today, so we need to make
sure the little man is good and fed.”
My head snaps his way.
“What?” he mumbles around a mouth full of muffin.
“You really think it’s going to be a boy?”
Mason eyes me for a moment, then nods, his features softening. “I think
everything happens for a reason,” he says gently, his hand tentatively
reaching out to cover my own.
My eyes burn, but I don’t let the tears come. I’m hit with so much at
once, denial and anger weighing down on me with that one line of his, but
as fast as those emotions come, they’re washed away by a strange sense of
curiosity and hope. I’m not sure how I feel about it.
“You think Deaton died for a reason?”
A sorrowful smile points back at me. “I think you lost someone you
cared about, but you were given something even more precious in return.
So…yeah. Of course there’s a baby boy in there, just waiting to meet his
mama.”
Mason’s face grows blurrier by the second, so I look away, focusing on
my food instead, and when a hot tear streaks down my face, the bitter cold
they normally leave behind never comes.
Because Mason reaches up and wipes it away, leaving nothing but the
warmth of his touch in its wake. Like the whip of whimsical wings, a flutter
dances across my abdomen, and my limbs lock at the sensation.
My gaze snaps up, catching on Mason’s.
 “It’s okay,” he says faintly, as if he knows what I’m thinking.
What I’m feeling.
As if he is feeling the same.
He can’t possibly.
Hell, I can’t possibly.
Can I?
No.
No, no.
I can’t.
I miss Deaton.
I love Deaton.
I only want Deaton.
Right?

Mason

S he ’ s freaking out .
I don’t know if it was us waking in the same house and having breakfast
or the comment I made about the baby being a boy. Either way, Payton is in
her head, more so than normal.
Her every answer is a single word, and when she looks at me for longer
than a second, her cheeks turn a truer shade of pink.
I think it’s fucking adorable, which is kind of messed up considering it’s
probably a blush of embarrassment and not the sweet, shy little blush a
woman gives a man she’s attracted to.
I’ve seen that on her before, because like it or not, she is attracted to me,
but this is different. It might even be guilt, and that freaks me out. I can’t
have her feeling guilty. If she does, she’ll pull away faster than a NASCAR
pit stop, and there will be no one to blame but myself.
That’s not going to happen, though, because getting out of the house is
as much for her as it is for me. I might still have wraps around my ribs and
a sling rubbing my neck raw, but I can walk just fine, so I lead us from the
house and down the road rather than to the sandy beach.
 It might be November, but it’s Oceanside after all, so the sweats and
hoodies we’re both wearing are more than enough to keep us warm.
I lead her down a side street that points to a few shops, and we make our
first stop in a small candy store.
Payton’s eyes light up as she steps inside, her attention going to the
giant wall of gummy candies right away. “I would have killed to come to a
place like this as a kid,” she whispers, running her baby-blue painted nails
along the acrylic dispensers.
I grab her hand, lifting to look closer at the color, and this time when
she looks up and that blush comes back—it’s for me. A thrill of excitement
rolls through me, but I tamp it down.
“I found it in the bathroom drawer.” She chews at her lips, the unspoken
words hanging between us.
It’s baby-boy blue.
“I like it.”
She looks away, and a smile kicks up on my lips.
“So never been to a candy store, then?” I ask, lifting a giant gummy
bear on a stick and showing it to her.
She gapes at it and shakes her head, picking up a tin box full of candies
made to look like Band-Aids. She cringes, setting it back down. “Not once.
There was one in the local mall back home, but my mom would never let us
go in there. She said it was ghastly to even consider such a place. She saw
some other kids stick their hands in a jelly bean dispenser once, and I think
it freaked her out. That and we weren’t allowed sugar.”
“Not even Lucky Charms?”
“Especially not Lucky Charms.” She smirks, her eyes lighting up when
she spots a container of chocolate almonds.
“Seriously?”
Her head whips my way. “What?”
“Almonds?” I make a show out of looking all around the space. “Out of
all this, and you pick almonds?”
“They’re not just any almonds. They’re chocolate sea salt–covered
almonds,” she teases back, holding them against her chest with a fake pout.
It’s so damn cute, I can’t help but reach forward and tug at her lower lip.
Her eyes flare, and she swiftly whips around, clearing her throat. “I
think I’ll get the chocolate cashews, too.”
 “Yeah.” I track her as she makes her way to the other side of the store.
“You do that, Pretty Little. Anything you want is yours,” I mumble.
“Now that’s how you keep her happy.”
I look to my left to find a woman around my mother’s age. She has
reddish-brown hair and a name badge that reads Margo. I smile, moving
closer to the counter and checking out their fresh baked goods.
“So you’re going to be a daddy, huh?” The woman smiles, and my back
muscles clamp tight. “That’s so exciting. And it looks like you scored some
maternity leave of your own.” She jerks her chin toward my sling. “Milk it
if you can, honey, ’cause before you know, it will be time to head back to
work, and leaving her or that little one will be the hardest thing you ever
had to do.”
My eyes find Payton across the room, watching as she tucks her long
hair behind her ear, and there’s a stir in my chest, thick and heavy, and I
swallow down the knot threatening to form in my throat. “Yeah,” I rasp.
“You might be right.” The bell on the door chimes, and I snap out of it,
facing the woman with a tight smile. “Can I pay for this and what she has
now?” I lift the giant gummy bear I’ll never be able to eat and set it on the
counter.
“You got it, stud.”
We’re out the door in two minutes, all possible awkward conversations
between the two of them effectively prevented.
I don’t know why I didn’t correct her about the baby, but she kept
talking, so I just…didn’t.
Didn’t want to.
Fuck.
“Hey, you okay?” Payton asks, already popping her treat of choice into
her mouth.
I force a smile and nod but frown down at her treats when she tears into
another. “You need to eat lunch before all that.”
She rolls her eyes but grins as she slides closer so she can tuck the
almonds in the bag I’m carrying. “Fine, feed me then, Superstar.”
So I do.
We walk a little farther, deciding on a small Mexican restaurant with
outdoor seating and a view of the ocean. It’s perfect for what I had in mind,
so we wait for one of the tables on the patio’s edge to open before sitting
and ordering our meals.
 Payton only makes it through half of her fajita bowl before she’s sitting
back with a satisfied smile, her eyes soft and trained on the waves ahead.
“I really like it here,” she says softly, her blue eyes finding mine. “I
don’t think I would have been able to go back home even if…if Deaton
hadn’t passed.”
My smile is small. “Maybe he would have stayed, too,” I offer, hating
the bite of acid that coats my tongue at the thought and feeling guilty for it
happening at all.
It’s so fucked-up, and I could never say it out loud but…
I’m happy he’s not here, but I’m not happy that he’s gone.
It’s a dickheads way of thinking, but it’s still the truth.
I wish she still had him so she wasn’t hurting or confused or
heartbroken that her son would never know his father…but I also wish I
could hold her how I want and touch her in ways I don’t think she’s ever
been touched.
I don’t know if I would have fallen for her had he stayed, but I don’t see
how I could have avoided it. Not that I would have ever done anything
about it, and there are a lot of things that likely would never have happened
had he still been here, lessening the pull I feel toward her. I think. Maybe.
But he’s not here, and that invisible thread that tugged me toward her
from the start is thickening. It’s growing roots and digging deeper.
I can say with certainty there’s no stopping it now.
I’m already hers, and while she no doubt has an idea, she’s yet to realize
how much she truly means to me.
“Yeah,” she agrees with a small smile, one that makes me wonder if she
believes what she’s saying or if she’s saying it because she believes she
should.
She looks out at the water again, and the lines along her forehead
disappear, a serene expression blanketing her features as her palms lift to
rest on the highest point of her stomach.
As stealthily as possible, I dig into the backpack I had slung along my
good shoulder and click the on button on her camera carefully, popping off
the cover on the lens the way I’ve seen her do a hundred times. I lift it,
focusing on her, and press the button.
The unmistakable click sounds, and her head whips my way.
She frowns at first, then a blinding fucking smile curves her lips.
 She laughs, then reaches over, taking it from my outstretched hand as if
this is exactly what she wanted in this exact second. Her camera, to capture
whatever beauty she saw through her eyes out in that water.
Before Payton pulls away, her fingers wrap around mine, and she gives
a little squeeze.
I feel it in my chest.
In my core.
In that place in the back of my mind that’s begging for this to turn into
something so much more.
She is the only beauty I see.
The ending I want.
I swallow as she lifts from her seat, moving closer to the water, and I
watch her from afar.
When she finally comes back, she takes the seat beside me rather than
across, her big blue eyes lighter than before and locked on mine. “Thank
you, Mason.” She peeks up at me, a glow in her crystal-blue eyes that keeps
getting brighter. She lifts the camera, taking a photo of the two of us, then
says, “This was exactly what I needed.”
Do you think you could ever need me?

Payton

I t ’ s a little after midnight when I’ m woken by a harsh thump .

I jolt upright, the movement so quick I have to close my eyes to fight off
a wave of nausea, and I notice the light shining through the jack-and-jill
bathroom and into my temporary room.
Mason had decided to take Cameron’s room, so when he insisted I take
Ari’s, the room on the other side of that connecting bathroom, I had to
agree.
I sit quietly, waiting to see if maybe he just dropped something and fell
back asleep, but then the sound of running water hits me, and I climb from
the bed, moving closer.
My stomach clenches unexpectedly, and it only seems to get worse with
each step. Once outside the bathroom, something has my feet coming to a
complete stop.
It must be after midnight by now, seeing as we didn’t turn off the movie
until after ten.
Why is he up?
Jesus, Payton, he probably just had to pee.
Shaking my head, I spin on my heels, but then I hear something.
Is the shower on?
Did he fall?
I lean closer, straining to listen beyond the spray, and what I latch on to
is the sound of labored breaths. They’re harsh, hurried exhales. I take
another step, just one away from seeing inside, when a low groan sounds,
and my feet freeze in the entryway.
Another groan.
My skin prickles, goose bumps washing across my flesh and making me
nervous. There’s no way he’s⁠—
“Fuck,” Mason grunts, and I jolt when there’s another thud on the other
side of the wall.
Like his head has fallen back against it, as if the feelings he’s feeling are
suddenly too much for him to hold it up. As if he’s overcome…
Oh my god, he is, isn’t he?
Heat explodes in my core, and my eyes fly wide with shock, the
sensation startling but…not unpleasant or unwelcome.
What? No!
No, no.
I squeeze my eyes closed, realizing all too fast it wasn’t the best
decision, as now, hidden in the darkness, desires too daunting in the light
come to life, and the most sinfully surprising images flash through my
mind.
Mason with his strong shoulders pressed against the wall, eyes closed,
and those lush lips parted just enough for his tongue to taste the air. His abs
taut and hips thrust outward, those long, lean fingers wrapped around
himself as he⁠—
“Payton…”
My eyes fly open, every muscle in my body freezing.
Oh my god, he said my name. He’s pleasuring himself, and he said my
name, and there’s a volcano erupting in my stomach. My hand shoots out to
grip the wall, my toes curling into the carpet beneath my feet.
 “You can come in.”
My back goes straight, my mouth agape. I open and close it several
times, but all that comes out is “Uh…”
Come in? While he’s⁠—
“I could use the help.”
Oh. My. God.
He wants me to help?
A million hummingbirds take flight in my abdomen, and I swear my
knees start to shake.
Wait. What’s going on with me right now?
“I could really use a shower,” he rasps.
Just like that, my mouth clamps closed.
Shower.
Shower?
Hesitantly, I mean with the bare minimum of movement, I peek my
upper body around the corner, too afraid to look inside but rather finding
him in the mirror instead.
My frown is instant.
Mason does have his back against the wall, and his head is resting
against it, but his good hand is latched on to the clasp of his sling, the shirt
he wore to bed tangled all around it.
His sweats are not down, and his dick is, well, most definitely not hard
and in his hands.
So he wasn’t pleasuring himself to thoughts of me?
I feel the scowl before I know it’s coming, and then I flush all over.
Why is there a bitter taste in my mouth all of a sudden?
I clear my throat and slip inside. Mason instantly looks away, his cheeks
tinged the slightest bit pink, and I realize he’s embarrassed.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about this man, it’s that he hates feeling
helpless, and he’s not a fan of being the one waited on, though he seems to
love doting on me.
Even the day I met him, he filled my plate high with breakfast, breaking
down the proteins and carbs and all this other crap the dedicated athlete
knows all about.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was well aware carbs were in just
about everything thanks to my mother’s obsession with my weight or that I
wouldn’t be able to finish a quarter of what he served me without getting
sick to my stomach.
Okay, enough stalling!
I push forward, grab Mason by the waist, and turn him. He jolts at first,
then allows me to spin him around, and when I push gently on his good
shoulder, he lowers onto the lid of the toilet.
When he finally looks up, his eyes widen, his good hand shooting to my
forehead as panic pulls at his features.
“What?” I rush, my own hand shooting up to my cheek.
He frowns slightly, moving the backs of his fingers to my temple. “You
feelin’ okay? You look like you have a fever, but my hand’s kind of numb,
so I can’t tell if you’re hot or not.”
I might flush even more as I pull his hand away, turning his head so he
can’t stare at me and pretending it’s so I can untangle his shirt. “I feel fine.
Kind of pissed, to be honest.”
His head snaps back, eyes narrowed.
Chuckling, I turn his head again. “I am here for a reason, Mase. Did you
think I was just trying to get out of my house?”
“Were you not?” he teases back.
Smiling, I tug his shirt over his head and ease it down the sling, letting it
land around the clasped part for now.
Mase looks to me as best he can, and I raise a blond brow. “What good
am I here if you’re not going to use me how you need to?”
Something flashes in Mason’s eyes, and he reaches out, his hand
planting on my hip.
He gives a little squeeze, and I swear my pulse jumps. “Sorry, Pretty
Little. You want me to use you how I want, then that’s what I’ll do.”
There’s an intensity in his eyes that holds mine a moment longer than it
should. I think I nod, quickly leaning over so I don’t have to try and
decipher the expression on his handsome face. I work the clasp of the back
of the sling and ease it down his body, tossing it to the side.
Mason stretches his neck slightly, but when he goes to move his arm, he
can only lift it so high. His jaw clenches, and he looks off again.
“Hey,” I whisper, and I don’t realize I’ve gripped his jaw and turned
him back to me until his lips part, causing my thumb to slide up his chin,
the tip tingling against his lower lip. I yank away, but Mason catches my
hand before I can lower it and holds it in the space between us, his eyes
locked on mine.
“Say what you were going to say,” he whispers.
I smile softly, tipping my head a little. “I was just going to say you’re
going to get better and remind you that it’s only been a handful of days.
You’ll be out of here and back on campus in no time.”
His gaze moves between my eyes, his hold on my hand tightening.
“That’s the only part I’m not looking forward to.”
I cock my head, contemplating the easiest way to remove the bandages.
“Going back to school?”
“Leaving here. Leaving you.”
My eyes snap to his, but I quickly dip them to his bandages once more,
trying to hide the smile threatening to slip. “Such a kiss-ass.”
Mason’s chuckle is low, and hesitantly, he releases my hand.
“Okay.” I nod, taking in all the bandages across his torso. “So I take it
we’re removing the wraps?”
Mason blows out a long breath. “I think it’s time, yeah. I’m starting to
smell myself. Pretty fucking gross.”
“Yeah, I thought it was the feta earlier but…”
Mason’s arm is quick, fingers flying out and tickling my sides. I jolt
backward, laughter spilling from me.
“Kidding. Kidding.” I move toward the drawers, digging through them
for something to help. “How you still smell like you, I’ll never know.”
Scissors. Score.
I hold them between us, and he spreads his legs so I can step closer, but
I shake my head. “Up.”
He stands. “Smell like me?”
“Yeah, you know…like summer and citrus or a warm blanket right out
of the dryer.” I purse my lips. “Maybe turn around so you can still keep
your arm steady?”
He doesn’t move, and when I look up, he’s just staring down at me.
“Mase.”
He licks his lips, then nods and spins, and I start with the lowest wrap,
gently sliding my finger between the cloth and his skin. Mason shivers, and
I smirk.
“Cold?”
 He huffs shaking his head, mumbling something along the lines of,
“Something like that.”
I cut the bottom wrap off, and it falls to the floor at his feet. I suck in a
sharp breath through my nose, my eye snapping up to the back of Mason’s
head. He must hear it, because he turns slightly, but not far enough he can
see my face.
There’re dark, purplish-yellow bruises all along his spine, and when I
cut off the second set of wraps, they only get worse. They’re everywhere, in
every shape and size all over his sides and wrapping up and around his
shoulder.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
My fingers feather across the markings, trailing along the largest one at
his side. Mason spins, and my hand is suddenly pressed to his abdomen. His
muscles flex, and I swallow, looking up into his eyes.
“I’m fine,” he rasps, his fist wrapping around my wrist. I think he
intends to remove my hand, and for some reason, my fingers splay out
against his heated skin. His palm slides up until his fingers are lacing with
mine.
My limbs start to shake, my breathing picking up, and it’s as if his
caramel-colored eyes are whispering words not meant to be heard but felt.
I feel them.
But what am I feeling?
It’s new and…different. It’s painfully soft and strangely compelling.
“You don’t look fine.”
“What did I say?” he murmurs, tucking some loose strands behind my
ear. “You don’t cry. Not for me.”
“I’m not crying.”
A sense of warmth gentles his features, and he releases me but only to
grip my shoulder so he can spin me until I’m looking in the mirror.
My eyes find my own, the image blurry, because yes, there is definitely
moisture in there, but my attention quickly flicks to the man at my back.
He’s so much taller than me, the top of my head just above his
collarbone. Despite my swollen frame, his cages me in, his shoulders wider
and visible behind mine, and when he steps closer, his stomach now pressed
to my back, my heart jolts in my chest.
His hand comes around, gently gliding along my stomach as he turns his
lips to my ear. They open, and my eyes close, the heat of his breath sending
goose bumps down my spine.
My legs are tingling, it’s so strange.
I don’t hate it.
“No tears for me, Pretty Little…but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like
that you care so much. In fact, knowing that you do does something to me.”
What does it do to you?
“I’m going to get into the shower now, gorgeous girl, just in case you
want to keep your eyes closed.”
I swallow, but my eyes, they open without permission, latching on to
his.
I can’t help but notice his pupils have grown wider, the golden brown
now hidden behind a layer of darkness.
Mason takes a step back, staring right at me as he uses one hand to push
his sweats to the floor.
They puddle behind my ankles, and my toes curl into the fuzzy mat
beneath my feet.
My cheeks are on fire, my eyes holding and following his in the
mirror’s reflection until he’s turning away, stepping into the shower, and
closing himself inside it.
The moment he’s out of sight, the spell is broken, and I run back into
the room, stopping to press my back against the wall.
I pull out the yoga breathing techniques, fighting for long, deep breaths
and exhaling just as slowly. It doesn’t help.
I lift my shaky hands, staring at them in shock and confusion, then press
them to my heated skin, explicitly aware my face isn’t the only part of me
that’s on freaking fire, but a part that’s been dormant for a while now…if
ever woken at all. A part of me I’m kind of scared to acknowledge but can’t
ignore.
There’s a heat bubbling between my legs, threatening to grow into a
boil, and my skin is tingly all over. My eyes fly wide.
“Oh my god,” I breathe, gently banging my head against the wall. “This
isn’t happening,” I mutter, clenching my eyes closed. “I’m not falling for
Mason.” I swallow, taking several long lungfuls. “I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
I yelp, spinning on my heels to find Mason standing in the doorway in
nothing but a towel, water dripping from every inch of him.
“What?” I think I say.
 Mason comes closer, water rolling down his face, his hair so dark from
the water it’s nearly black. “You said you can’t. Can’t…what?”
“I…uh…”
His eyes, they’re roaming over every inch of my face, and I blush
harder.
Can he see it?
Does he know my body reacted to his?
That I kind of want to know what it would feel like to be closer, if only
out of curiosity.
Or maybe it’s a subconscious need for human contact or comfort.
Or maybe something else entirely…
Shit.
Mason takes another step, and I watch as fresh droplets from the fastest
shower known to man slip from his sharp, slightly scruffy jaw onto his
pecs. They’re impressive, perfectly cut and gleaming.
My throat grows tight, and when he nods his head toward the bathroom,
stepping inside, my feet decide to follow, and we don’t stop until we’re in
the room on the other side.
My eyes fly to the plush blankets on the bed, down comforter after
down comforter thrown on top. Mason steps around me a moment later,
basketball shorts slung low on his hips. Everything burns when I catch the
smallest hint of dark hairs peeking out below his navel. And those hip
bones, as sharp as a sculpture.
My god, what a perfect prize he would make behind my lens. I could
win awards with his flawlessness.
Mason Johnson is…grown. He’s not a teenage boy on the cusp of
adulthood. No, he’s all man. Strong and exquisite.
And shirtless and staring at me.
My head yanks down, chin practically digging into my chest.
“Come on.”
Oh god. There’s humor in his tone.
“Ari’s bed can’t be as comfortable as this one.”
“It’s not so bad” comes out before I can stop it, but as I say it, I realize
I’m internally searching for an excuse to go back to the room I’ve been
sleeping in. I don’t need one, though, do I? Mason asked me to come in
here, and I…want to.
 So I say nothing else. I climb under the covers, sitting up slightly from
all the pillows. A sigh leaves me instantly, my smile wide and turning on
Mason.
He chuckles, gazing at me with a gleam in his gaze. “Yeah, Cam’s bed
is like this back home and at the dorm, too. She has a pillow topper on her
mattress and still sleeps on top of a down comforter while covered in
another. Girl’s a brat with a bad night’s sleep.”
Something hot spears my gut, and I flick my frown away before he sees
it.
So he’s not only been in Cameron’s bed…but all her beds.
What does that mean exactly?
I did hear she had a crush on him growing up. Did something happen
between them?
Is something going on with them now back at Avix?
Oh my god, Payton, why do you care?
“We used to pile in each other’s rooms every weekend, trading off
houses each time, for movie nights and pizza. Hers was everyone’s
favorite.”
I look over to find him studying me with a hint of a grin on his lips, like
he knows what I was thinking, liked it, and that’s why he explained, but
that’s weird, right?
Mason shifts, facing me as much as possible, so I make it a little easier
on him and turn onto my side. He smiles down at me and laughs lightly.
“What?”
“You look cute like this, all snuggled up and shit.”
I roll my eyes at his teasing and settle farther into the blankets. “I would
be so much more comfortable if I didn’t have a tiny human hanging out in
my body.”
Mason grins, his eye falling to the large lump of blankets. He stares for
a few moments, and then his hand disappears under the comforter. He
doesn’t just lay it there, though. He slides it farther down until the hem of
my shirt is in his hand and he’s pushing it up, the heat of his hand pressed
directly to my taut skin.
A soft current courses through me, his touch like a tame note of
electricity. I pull in a shuddering breath.
I can’t see where he’s touching me, the blanket still up to my chin, but
his callused fingers leave a trail of warmth everywhere they go. He slides
his hand from one side to the next, to the top and back down, pausing when
he feels a small protruding point.
His eyes pop up to mine, nothing but the light he forgot to turn off in the
bathroom cascading over us. “Does it hurt?” he wonders.
I shake my head. “Getting a little harder to breathe now that I’m so
close, and my back hurts as much as my feet, but that’s just what happens at
this point, I guess.”
Mason nods, then asks, a little more hesitant this time, “Are you
afraid?”
A rush of sadness falls over me, and I look down for a moment,
Deaton’s soft curls and infectious smile slipping into my mind. A weight
falls on my chest when I realize I haven’t thought of him much this past
week. I wasn’t asleep long enough for him to visit me in my dreams, but he
will.
He always does.
I don’t realize a small grin is pulling at my lips until I look up to find a
matching one on Mason.
“I don’t think so,” I finally answer.
“That’s good,” he whispers, and I can see exhaustion setting in.
We’re quiet for a few minutes, and when he shifts again, his gaze
finding mine in the low-lit space, a small smile curves my lips. His words
from earlier are like a warm blanket in my mind, and I tuck my hands under
my cheek, staring up at him in the dark.
Not many people at my age know what it feels like to have something,
or someone in my case, that you love taken from you. It’s a fucking
nightmare that gives you legitimate nightmares.
It’s like being carved to the bone with a fillet knife, but instead of
leading you to the good part, all you get is the bad.
The empty.
The bloodcurdlingly bare.
No matter what you add back or pump yourself with, it doesn’t go away.
Your bones begin to ache with no exertion, and your heart threatens to
explode with even the littlest of it.
People think they know how you should act or feel, how long you
should mourn, when you should be better, and how hard the entire process
will be, but they don’t. They couldn’t possibly.
 Sure, it’s different for everyone, but at the end of the day, the base is the
same.
You lost something, or something was stolen from you. You want it
back.
Maybe it’s possible, or maybe it’s impossible, but that doesn’t mean the
person with a chance hurts any less than the person without one. It just
means we’re human and both must try.
Try and live with the hole, or try and fill it.
Or do nothing and get buried beneath it all.
Mason and me, it’s like we’re on the same page.
Both holding on to the shovel, but both drowning in a mountain of dirt
that doesn’t seem to lessen, no matter how many times we scoop.
Mason with his slow recovery, and me with…god, I don’t even know
how to put it into words.
But with Mason, it’s almost like I don’t have to. It’s as if he already
knows.
Maybe because he’s lost something, too, albeit temporarily, but still.
Just because our pain is different, that doesn’t mean his isn’t as deep as
mine.
We both may have lost what was supposed to be our future, but maybe
there’s a purpose behind it all. A way to make us stronger than we would
have been.
Maybe what he said to me is true.
“Hey, Mase,” I say, even though he’s staring right at me.
He blinks, a small smile on his lips encouraging me to say whatever is
on my mind. For some reason, nerves swim in my stomach, and when I
continue, my tone is so low I wonder if he’ll hear me at all.
“If everything happens for a reason, then maybe there’s a reason you got
hurt.”
Mason’s eyes move between mine, and when he speaks, it’s in the
softest of whispers. “I think maybe you’re right.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

MASON

B efore , N ovember

R olling my shoulder forward three more times , I take a deep

breath, thankful that such a thing is even possible. Injured ribs are no joke,
not that this shoulder shit has been much easier.
I roll my shoulder backward, the tenth rep causing me to grind my teeth.
At least I can lift my arm up and over my head now. We’ll just pretend
there’s not a small strain when it’s near full extension. That and I’m sure my
ribs are not yet back to 100 percent, but at last, I can breathe easy now. I can
bend and twist, and that’s good enough for me. For now anyway.
It’s been a hell of a recovery period. Weeks of stress and fear and
anxiety, of mental torture.
My eyes slide to the blond five feet away. She’s bouncing on an
exercise ball in the corner, her eyes pointed at the TV, where reruns of
Forensic Files are playing on a loop.
Weeks of me and her and no one else.
That familiar sense of rightness I’ve come to know when she’s near
flows through me, a heavy weight following closely behind.
 My time with her is almost up, and as much as I want to get back on the
field, the thought of leaving her brings back the claws of panic, and that’s
just at the thought. I have no idea what kind of games my mind will play
once I actually go. I’ve become a bit dependent. Maybe it’s the twin in me.
Maybe it’s her.
When she’s not in the same room, I seek her out.
When she’s asleep, I’m waiting for her to wake.
When she’s looking at me, I’m fucking mesmerized.
She’s more than I thought I’d ever find, and she’s not even mine.
I mean, in my mind, she is. She has to be. There’s just no other option,
but that’s my mind, and while I like to think I have a damn good idea I
know what’s going on inside hers, I can’t say that for certain. Even if she
now looks at me in a way she didn’t before.
As if our minds are linked, her head turns my way, catching me staring.
The soft smile she gives has my heart pounding. It’s pretty strange honestly,
but it’s there, this incessant thud beneath my rib cage.
“You’re quiet today,” she murmurs, carefully climbing to her feet and
walking over, her eyes trailing over my bruises, all now mostly faded into
nothing. Her gaze moves back to mine. “What’s the matter?”
“The others will be here soon.”
Her lips curve higher. “Don’t sound so excited.”
“What if I said I’m not?” A small frown of confusion builds across her
brow, so I add, “I don’t want you to go.”
Her smirk is playful. “Mason Johnson, are you saying you like me
bossing you around?”
I push to my feet, and her head tips back to follow. “I’m saying I like
you.”
She laughs. “I like you, too.”
My head is already shaking, my feet shuffling closer. “No, Pretty
Little.” I run my knuckles along her jaw. “What if I asked you to stay the
rest of the weekend? I’m moving up to my room tonight. You could stay
with me in there like you’ve been staying in Cam’s room with me.”
Her cheeks pinken, and I need to get a grip, because the sight has my
dick throbbing in my sweats. How can I, though, when I know where her
curious little mind just went?
It’s right there, in the gloss of her gaze.
 She’s thinking about how we’ve woken tangled in each other for the last
several days, each morning more and more wrapped together, now that I
can actually lie on my sides or flat on my back. Each of those mornings, my
body knew exactly what it wanted, and there was nothing I could do to stop
it. This wasn’t the standard morning wood; this was I want the girl in my
arms with every fiber of my fucking being. Because, god damn it, I do, and
I’m tired of telling myself I shouldn’t.
The first day, she practically sprinted into the bathroom, locking herself
inside.
The second, she blushed like crazy but didn’t run.
But the third? The third she pressed back against me, a tiny gasp she
doesn’t know I heard heating me from the inside out. Even now, my blood
is running warm at the mere thought of it. It was the sweetest sound, and
I’m dying to hear it again. And again. And sure, one could argue she didn’t
mean to rub her ass over me, but I’m thinking she did. Even if
subconsciously, she still did.
I won’t get the chance to hear that gasp again tomorrow, though, not
with the others due to arrive today. So yeah, I already knew before asking
my question what her answer would be, and her next words are only further
proof that some part of us, be it big or small or steadily growing, is
connected. We are connected.
“Parker’s been hounding me about coming home.” She tells me what I
already knew.
Still, I argue. “He’s a half mile down the road.”
“Exactly.” She grins. “I’ll only be a half a mile down the road.” She
holds that grin all the way through. “I’m sure you won’t miss me too
much.” She says this but with a flicker in her eyes I don’t miss.
Sadness.
Dread.
You don’t want to go, do you, baby?
“You know if there is anything you need, anything that you want,
anything at all, I’ll give it to you. You know this, right? That if I’m
physically capable, it’s yours. You just”—I lick my lips, moving closer
—“just ask. Or take. Or—” I break off, shaking my head.
“Mase?”
“I’m messing this up, aren’t I?” I step back, running my fingers though
my hair. “I’m trying not to scare you, but I’m fucking dying here, Pretty
Little.”
I wait for confusion to cross her face, but it never comes.
My eyes narrow, watching as she swallows, and fireworks light me up
on the inside because hot damn. She knows.
She’s not confused.
She fucking knows what I’m feeling, and she’s still standing right here.
Fuck it.
I rush for her, her eyes widen…and a car door slamming in the
driveaway serves as a shield between us, jolting me in its invisible trap.
My face falls, and hers points to the floor.
That’s it. My time is up.
The others are here.
I look to the garage door, considering waiting until they come in and
track us down, but then I hear a soft laugh that has a smile crossing my lips
regardless of the situation.
It only grows wider as I step from the garage into the house and over to
the front door, Payton quietly following behind. I yank it open just in time
to catch Noah saying “Best thing I ever did was miss that pass.”
I grimace at the sight of my sister in his arms, but I can’t help but grin.
“And here I was thinking the best thing you ever did was toss me on the
bed and⁠—”
Okay, yeah. No.
“Don’t finish that sentence.” I cut her off, but my tone is playful if
anything.
Ari whips her head around, hitting me with a bright smile. She kicks so
Noah will set her down, and she’s rushing for me in the same breath.
I don’t have time to brace, groaning when she slams into my chest for a
full-ass hug.
“Shit. Sorry!” She jumps back quickly.
“It’s fine. Come here.” I pull her into my arms and hug her tight. And
because she’s Ari, her sniffles follow soon after. “I’m okay, baby sister,” I
whisper. “Promise.”
“Yeah?”
I nod. “I was fucked up for a couple of weeks, but I’m good now.”
“Thank god for that.”
My girl lays on the sass, and I glance back to find her leaning against
the frame all fucking adorable like. I almost go to her, but Ari beats me to it.
 “Oh my god,” my sister murmurs. “Look at you.”
The two hug, and Payton meets my eyes over Ari’s shoulder, playfully
rolling hers. “Go ahead. Feel me up.”
Ari doesn’t hesitate, instantly running her hands along her belly, and the
sight shifts some pieces inside me, yet another clicking into place.
My sister looks so honored, a giddy, loving eagerness bright in her
brown eyes. She can’t wait for there to be a baby in our mix, something
she’s dreamed of since we were way too young to even want such things,
but that didn’t stop her from planning for it. She begged our parents to have
another one for years, and as soon as we hit junior year of high school, she
started talking about how she couldn’t wait until one of us had a baby of our
own.
Of course we tried to take bets on who would be first, but everyone
picked Brady, so the bet never took.
None of us expected a broken blond to join our mix.
Least of all me.
No one is happier than I am that she showed up.
The girls I’ve met on campus this semester, they meant nothing, and
going back, I know I won’t even be able to entertain the noise. Not now.
Not after the last few weeks.
Last few months?
When is the last time I hooked up with someone? A couple weeks into
the semester, maybe? A dumb drunken night that I hardly remember.
I remember every moment I’ve ever had with Payton, and I haven’t
even kissed the girl yet.
I’m fucking going to.
The girls are still talking, but I’ve managed to tune them out, moving to
Noah with an outstretched hand. “Riley.” I lift a dark brow. “Looks like my
sister’s still in one piece. This shit serious now or what?”
“It’s whatever she wants it to be.”
“Good fucking answer, my man.” I chuckle, turning to Payton. “Payton,
Noah. Noah, Payton.”
Noah smiles, giving a little wave. “Hi, Payton.”
A teeny tiny pink hue begins to creep up her neck, and I narrow my
eyes, taking a half step before I realize it, as if to block his Prince
Charming–looking ass from her view, but her eyes are already on him.
“Hey,” she says in greeting.
 “Okay, intros are over.” I frown. “Inside. It’s getting cold as fuck out
here.” I turn, raising a brow at her as I pass her on my way into the house.
I swear she thinks it’s funny, and I’m right when she teases, “Ari, did
you know your brother is the bossiest person on the planet?”
Her words are purely for my benefit. Kind of like that part, though.
“Yeah, you get used to it.” My sister sighs dramatically, and I pretend to
groan, flipping her off over my head.
My boys come in, both giving me that unsure, pitying look, but when I
only grin, they wipe it away in an instant, coming in for a hug.
“Good to see you, my boy.” Brady slaps my good shoulder. “This
motherfucker won’t shut up about you at practice.” He pretends to complain
about Chase, but we all know it’s his way of letting me know they’ve had
my back. As if I had any doubt.
“Oh yeah?” I grin at Chase. “Miss me, fucker?”
“Nah, just wanted to make sure the other dude trying to show off didn’t
forget he was nothing but a stand-in.”
“My man.”
Chase smirks, moving over to say hi to Payton.
I watch as she beams up at him, laughing as he whispers something in
her ear. Brady catches my eye, a brow raised, and I wink at the fucker.
“Whoa, whoa—” he starts, jumping out to grip my arm, fully intent on
grilling me over what his perceptive ass is picking up on, but I dodge him,
quickly whirling around the island.
I kiss Cameron’s temple, and she kisses the air in return, already
digging into the fridge for something sweet, and I take a moment to look
across my friends, all doting on the pregnant girl who’s glowing from the
inside out.
I can’t help the images that flash across my mind of all of us in the
future, in this same spot, plus a little blond-haired boy running around.
He’d run up to me and⁠—
A harsh exhale I’d recognize in a room of a hundred catches my
attention, my head snapping to the right.
Payton is slowly climbing to her feet, but she only just sat down. Worry
slices through me when her hand shoots to her back, the other pushing out
to grip the table, and I’m already moving.
Snagging the water she set down, I quickly drag the larger chair with the
doubled-up cushions we fixed up for her a few days ago closer.
 “I’m fine,” she whispers, looking up at me.
Don’t lie to me, my scowl screams, and she responds in kind, her little
glare replying with I’m not. I don’t mean to smile, but it grows wider when
a low chuckle leaves her. She shakes her head and settles once more.
Fine or not, I stay beside her regardless, and I plan to all damn day.
Because the gang’s all here now, and that means soon…she won’t be.
Unfortunately, soon comes too quick, and before I know it, I’m lying
alone in my bed, staring at the dark ceiling. No matter what I do, I can’t get
comfortable. The bed feels too big, too…empty.
Jesus, I turned into a sap.
I smirk to myself.
I think I’m okay with that.
I wonder if she’s asleep. I look toward the clock, finding it’s a little after
eleven.
Is she lying restless like me? Wishing she’d stayed instead of going
back?
Lifting my phone off my chest, I sigh, scrolling through social media,
something I haven’t done all week. It’s just as boring now as it was then,
and I toss it back down, flipping onto my stomach. Forcing my eyes closed,
I begin to count down from a hundred. I make it all the way to fifteen when
my phone pings.
I jerk up, looking at the screen to find it’s from Payton.
Sitting up, I pull up the message.
My Pretty Little: Mase?

I hit the Call button instantly, my pulse jumping faster by the second,
because somehow I just know something is wrong.
She answers on the second ring, a soft sniffle tearing into me, and I fly
to my feet.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m scared,” she whispers.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
Another sniffle, and then a shaky “I think the baby is coming.”
I’m already shoving into my shoes and running out of my room.
“I…I need you, Mase,” she cries, the sound so fucking soft.
And there it is.
She fucking needs me.
 “I’m on my way.” I run down the stairs, screaming, “Payton’s in labor,
and she’s scared!”
Just like that, doors open, footsteps pound, and the whole gang is out
the door.
By the time we’re seated and pulling from the driveway, Ari has Kenra
on the phone. Turns out I’m the only person Payton told, even though she
was in a room just down the hall from her brother when her water broke.
I’m gonna analyze the hell out of that later, but calling them ahead of
time was the right thing to do to get us moving. They are running out the
door and jumping into Parker’s car as we pull to the curb, but not Payton.
She hesitates, her eyes snapping over and finding mine as I hop from
the Tahoe, ditching the driver seat and ready to climb in the back seat with
her. It seems she was waiting or expecting that, too, as she didn’t dare climb
in until I was at her side, my intention clear. Ignoring the frowns from my
cousin and her man, I press my body right against hers, our hands clinging
together instantly. I don’t know who gets behind the wheel of my Tahoe,
and I don’t care.
My focus is on the girl gripping me for dear life, a nervous expression
on her pretty face. She doesn’t say a word the entire drive, just clenches her
eyes and my fist.
As we pull through the hospital roundabout, Parker and Kenra jump out
instantly, and as swiftly as possible, I dart between the seats, stretching out
and hitting the lock button on the doors.
As my ass falls back in the seat, I look out in time to see Parker jogging
through the double doors, probably to get help or something, but Kenra
steps over, tugging on the handle of our door.
“What the hell?” She knocks, cupping her hands and pressing her face
to the window to try and see through the tint.
I turn to Payton, take her face in my hands, and tip it toward me.
Her hands come up, wrapping around my wrists, fear written across her
face.
“I can’t do this,” she finally cries.
“Listen to me, Payton Baylor,” I whisper, holding her gaze. “You’ve
gone through hell for years, but you fought through it, and in that hell, you
found a bit of peace to hold on to in a boy who meant the world to you. And
then you lost him.” Her lower lip trembles, and I clutch her tighter. “But
you’re still here, Pretty Little. Pushing and fighting and growing even
stronger than before. I know you’re afraid, but you’re also brave. Braver
than me, no doubt, and I need you to know, even if you were all by
yourself, the ten of us here nowhere to be found, you could do this.”
She shakes her head, but I push on.
“You can. You’re the strongest person I know, and you’ve fucking got
this. And if for some reason you need a little help, I’m right here. Hold on
to me. Yell or scream or claw at me, tear me a-fucking-part if it helps, and
know that I’ll still be right here, no matter what. You amaze me, gorgeous
girl. You’ve got me in every sense of the word.” I press my forehead to
hers, our gazes still locked. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Big blues blink up at me, a tenderness taking over her tense features.
“Promise,” she whispers. “Promise me, Mason. No matter what.
Promise me.”
A shudder runs through me, my eyes burning as I stare intently into
hers. “I promise, Pretty Little.”
She stares a moment longer, and then a small smile breaks her lips, a
choked laugh escaping. “Oh my god, I’m about to have a baby.”
A laugh breaks from my lips, and I look up over my shoulder to see
Parker now back with a wheelchair, the others rushing down the path from
where they had to park.
I face the angel at my side with a smirk. “Yeah, you are. So what do you
say? You ready to meet your little man?”
She licks her lips with a nod, smiling wildly now. “I’m ready.”
I open the car door, and in the hospital we go.

I’ m really fucking glad I gave P ayton that pep talk before we

stepped into the hospital, because apparently her water breaking at home
was just the beginning. I mean, I knew that, but it wasn’t until we got up in
the room, the monitors all hooked up and the doctor coming in for the
second time, that shit got real.
Parker stepped out, glaring at me when all I did was move back a few
feet, but that was only for his benefit. The doc told him to wait outside, and
I’m not sure why the woman didn’t tell me to go, too, but she didn’t. The
only reason I moved at all is because Payton gave me a small nod.
 Maybe because she didn’t want to hurt her brother’s feelings, or maybe
it was because the doctor threw Payton’s gown up to her waist like she was
simply looking under the hood of a car, but either way, I slipped out.
Of course, the second Parker and the others turned around and a nurse
came out the double doors blocking her from me, I snuck through them
before they could close. I went right back to her bedside, ignoring the looks
Kenra was shooting me from Payton’s opposite side. I was so fast, only out
maybe a solid minute, that the doc hadn’t even had time to stand from her
little rolling chair.
I don’t know what it was they put in Payton’s IV, but it’s been only five
minutes now, and the whole-ass game has changed. Payton’s contractions
have finally started, and according to the nurse with her head between her
legs right now, she’s moving at an accelerated rate.
It’s absolute fucking torture.
She’s crying, gripping the bars on the side of the bed, and writhing in
agony, tears fogging her ocean eyes. She can hardly sit still, and I’m as
useful to her right now as a condom would be.
But I don’t move from my spot at her side. I wouldn’t dare.
Not when every few minutes, she lifts her pretty head to look at me, as
if to make sure I’m still there.
I swallow, moving with the nurse toward the door, and whisper, “How
much longer?”
She smiles brightly as she pulls her gloves off and tosses them in a red
bin. “Any time now, hon. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll get
to meet your little one soon.”
“Mase.”
I whip around to find her hand outstretched and hurry back.
I press my palm to hers, and it’s she who links her fingers around my
own. Her eyes close, and I look over at Kenra.
She’s got her lips pursed, but I shake my head, bending to rub my free
hand over Payton’s forehead, blowing cool breaths along the sweat beads
building there.
“It hurts,” she cries, squeezing me tighter.
“I know. I know it does, but you’re doing so good.”
She starts to scream, her entire body coiling and shoulders caving in.
She pants, gasps, and thrashes against her pillow. “I need to… I don’t know.
I think…”
 The nurse runs back in, lifts Payton’s gown, and I wait for her to panic
or scream for help.
The crazy woman in lime-green scrubs smiles at us and says, “It’s
time.”
We all freeze. I look from Payton to Kenra to Payton.
Payton’s eyes are wide, her lips trembling as she looks from my cousin
back to me.
They both look at me as if I’ve got all the answers, but I don’t have shit.
I’m fucking terrified here. “Should I get Parker?” I take a guess, thankful
when she nods eagerly.
“Please.” She gives one more squeeze before releasing me. “I want him
here, too.”
I’m already moving toward the door when she shouts. “Wait!”
The panic in her tone wraps around my shoulders. I jerk around again,
ready to run right back. Hell, I’ll do circles right here in this little room if
she wants me to.
“You promised,” she rasps, fear glittering in her gaze.
There’s a heavy knock in my chest, and I nod. “I’ll be right back, Pretty
Little. Right back.”
She drops her head to the pillow, nodding as she squeezes her eyes
closed, and I book it down the hall, pressing the button on the automatic
doors, but there’s no time to run into the waiting room, so I shout from the
other side. “Baby’s coming!” I clap, but I don’t wait around to be sure
Parker heard, spinning on my heels and jogging back toward room 227.
Parker’s right behind me, and he moves for her right side, but that’s my
side and I hold still, so he goes to stand behind Kenra, reaching past her to
gently brush Payton’s arm.
She looks to each of us, then back at the doctor, nodding as the doc
explains what happens next.
And honestly, I’m shitting my pants right now.
Her legs are up, feet locked in these scary-ass metal things reminding
me of those contraptions Forrest Gump had on his legs when he was a kid,
and there’s an operating tray set out with all sorts of shit like a horror movie
prop setup.
Yeah, I’m freaking out, and I’m guessing it’s obvious seeing as nurse
number two steps up beside me and whispers for me to breathe.
So I listen, dragging in a long shaky breath as I look back to Payton.
 “Okay, Payton, I’m going to count back to one, and on one, you’re
going to push for a full count of three, okay?”
“I don’t know,” she whines, squeezing her eyes closed.
The doctor looks up at me, an expectant expression on her face, and my
eyes widen because what the hell, man? What am I supposed to do? I don’t
know shit about shit and⁠—
Payton starts to cry, and panic bubbles into my throat.
Spinning, I face her, grip her hand, and squeeze. “Hey, Pretty Little,
look at me.”
She does, tears slipping down her cheeks.
“Little man is ready to meet you.” I nod, catching the doc’s eyes a
moment, quickly refocusing on Payton. “And I know how much you’ve
been waiting to meet him, too, so what do you say, hmm? We ready to do
this?”
Her lips press tight, those big blue eyes locked on mine, so fucking
trusting and afraid at the same time, it shreds me to the bone.
I move her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear the way she
likes to do. “I’ll be right here the whole time.”
Slowly she nods, and together, we look to the doc.
“Okay.” The doc hunches down slightly. “In three, two, one…”
Payton groans, her teeth clacking as she shouts through them, her body
curling up into an impossible crunch. Her face starts to turn two shades too
red, and Parker and I lock eyes, fear and uncertainty burning like lava in my
veins.
“Good,” the doc praises, and Payton falls back against the bed, panting.
“A few more like that. Deep breath. The next contraction is already coming.
Get ready in three, two, one…”
“Ahh!” Payton shouts, clenching again, her hand shaking, nails digging
into my skin.
My jaw is locked, and I’m fucking sweating.
Payton settles again, her breathing all over the place, and those teary
eyes find mine once more.
“You’re going so damn good,” I rasp.
“I can see the head,” the doc announces.
“She can see the head.”
“Two more and you get to meet your baby.”
“Two more and⁠—”
 The doctor snickers, and I clamp my mouth closed, gaze snapping
around the room.
Even Parker is smirking, his gaze narrowed, though he quickly points it
back to his sister. “You’re so close, Peep. Come on.”
“And three, two, one…”
Payton pushes, her shoulders trembling and legs shaking with the force.
“The head is out. Another push.”
“I can’t!” Payton cries.
“Come on, Payton,” the doctor encourages calmly. “One more.”
Payton shakes her head, dropping it back and shouting into the room as
her body locks tight.
I lean over, pressing my forehead to hers, and our eyes meet.
“Payton, you need to push.” The doctor is a little more urgent this time.
Payton’s lip trembles as she stares at me, her head moving back and
forth.
“Yes, baby,” I breathe. “You can do this. Come on, Pretty Little. You’re
so close. Show me how strong you are. How fucking brave.” My lips slide
across her cheek, and she cries harder. “You can do this. Let’s go.”
Slowly, she nods and starts to push. Her features pull tight, the cries of a
warrior slipping from her lips, sweat rolling from her forehead and mixing
with mine, but I don’t dare move. I hold her eyes, and with our gazes tied,
pulses pounding dangerously fast, we hear it.
The softest, craziest fucking sound I’ve ever witnessed.
A little broken cry.
Awe. Complete and total awe, that’s the expression that blankets her
face.
Her entire body goes limp, tears streaming down her face at an
unstoppable rate.
Slowly and with a bit of fear I didn’t expect, I face the doctor, vaguely
aware of Parker and Kenra telling Payton how proud they are and how good
she did.
My eyes lift, locking onto a little head, full of thick dark hair. Even
covered in…whatever that is, it looks curly and perfect, and I swear to god,
my heart, it jumps in my chest. Jumps, skips, and then shifts.
A hole opens up inside me, the teeny tiny little thing the doctor holds up
slipping inside and filling it right back up.
My vision blurs, my body frozen in place.
 Parker says something, walks by, and the nurse steps up, but I can’t hear
her.
All I hear is him.
It is a boy. A little baby boy.
It’s like time doesn’t exist and the world stopped spinning, and all that’s
left is him…and her.
Slowly, I turn, and as if sensing I was coming, her eyes move to meet
mine in the same instant.
She smiles, and I hate the weight within it, but there’s so much joy
there, too.
“You were right,” she whispers, blinking heavily. “It’s a boy.”
I’m not aware I’ve moved until her face is in my hands, my lips coming
down on hers with such intensity my entire body vibrates. “Congratulations,
Pretty Little,” I whisper against her. “You’re a mama now.”
“I’m a mom now,” she breathes, a slight tremble in her smile.
I push the hair from her face, and her eyes close, exhaustion setting in.
Not a moment later, the nurse nudges my arms with her own.
“Come.” She dips her chin, so I spin, stepping beside the tiny little table
they’ve laid the little guy out on. The doctor is talking to Payton, and I try
to focus on what the nurse is saying, but I can’t.
“Why is he crying?” I ask, my hands lifting to touch him, but fear
tethers around my muscles, holding me back. “Don’t cry, little man.” I
swallow beyond the knot forming in my throat. “Your mama’s waiting to
meet you, and you’re gonna scare her,” I whisper.
Suddenly, his wails soften, and my pulse hammers in my chest when he
starts to blink. Just like that, his little eyes open, and all the air whooshes
from my lungs.
“He’s…perfect,” I rasp, then notice the scissors held out before my
hands.
My eyes snap to the nurse, and she smiles, pushing them into my palm.
“Cut right here, daddy.”
My knees shake, white flashing behind my eyes. This is…
I don’t have words for what’s happening inside me right now, but it’s
big, life-fucking-changing, and when I open my eyes, looking into his,
everything inside me shifts. It rearranges, twisting, turning, and tightening.
It clicks into place.
My lungs open up, and the air tastes different.
 Daddy.
My vision blurs, and I reach up, running a shaky hand over his perfect
little cheek.
Oh my god.
I…I want to be his daddy.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

MASON

N ow , S eptember

It never gets easier .

In fact, it only gets worse. Every. Single. Time.
It’s to the point where I can hardly sleep and forget to eat. I’m choking
down protein shakes just to keep enough carbs in my body to keep it
moving. It’s no wonder I got so trashed off the beer. I can’t remember
eating anything yesterday, and who knows when I ate before that?
I close my eyes, taking deep breaths to keep from puking this vanilla
shit all over the cab of my Tahoe.
It’s just after two in the afternoon, and there’s but a single car in the
practice facility’s parking lot, most people not set to head back to campus
until later this evening since we don’t report for official practice and classes
until tomorrow.
That’s when the others will be back, tomorrow morning. The plan was
to head back to the beach houses this afternoon when Noah had to catch his
quick flight back to the team’s headquarters. Then tomorrow morning, we’d
get up and make the drive early.
 I was supposed to have one more day with my little guy.
One more day with her.
My jaw clenches, and I shove the door open, stepping out into the frigid
morning air, tugging my hoodie up.
I couldn’t face her this morning. Couldn’t face any of them, and since
Little D was asleep in the same room as his mama, I didn’t get to say
goodbye.
The thought has my pulse pounding in my ears.
What if that’s the story of my life? A constant goodbye.
Quick visits that are over before they start, like a distant uncle or, worse,
family friend.
I’m not just a fucking friend.
I’m more.
You thought you were more.
“Fuck,” I curse, quickening my pace and focusing on the echo of my
own footsteps in an attempt to drown out my thoughts, but it’s to no avail.
There may as well be a megaphone pressed to my ears, screaming out
all the ways I’ve fucked up, but the fucked-up part about it?
I have no idea what those things are. There has to be more than I realize,
right? For her to pull away after everything. For the ache that enters her
eyes when she pretends not to watch me with Deaton. There was always
that sliver of inner pain there. It’s the same tangled expression that would
enter my father’s eyes when he’d watch me and my sister do something he
and his sister did as kids before she passed, but inner pain or not, Payton
never pushed.
In fact, she did the opposite. She kept me close, called first, and hung up
last.
She’d run to me and jump into my arms when I’d sneak a short visit I
didn’t tell the others about. Now she hears me coming and off she goes, a
sudden appointment or event or urge for a coffee she can’t make herself.
But why?
What happened?
Where did I fuck up, because I must have, right?
Or maybe she can see through me and knows I’m not as confident as I
like to make people think. That I do feel fear and I do have insecurities.
It just so happens my biggest one might be the very reason things have
veered so far off course I’m running circles around my damn self.
 Maybe I’m not enough, or maybe I’m simply not needed.
Why would I be?
What do I truly have to offer her?
I’m not even fucking there. I’m stuck three hours away for the next two
years, and that’s if I go to the draft after my junior season. And if I do get
drafted, I’ll be off to who the fuck knows where after that, but the odds say
it will be farther. Somewhere I can’t hop in my truck for a quick visit.
The best I’ll be able to do is see their faces over video, but who’s to say
I’ll even be given that?
The girl won’t even take my damn calls anymore.
So yeah, maybe it’s not that I’m not enough or needed but not worth the
trouble at all.
Pushing the heels of my palms into my eyes, I growl in frustration,
shoes pounding heavily against the concrete until I’m breaking out into a
full sprint, tearing down the long hall, and shoving through the metal door
at the end until I’m stumbling through, out onto the open field.
I gasp, hands falling to my knees as my lungs threaten to seize.
Behind me, the door slams against the wall with a resounding ricochet,
and my eyes snap to the field just as the figure in the center of it comes into
view, whipping around and glaring this way.
My brows snap together, and my spine shoots straight.
Alister fucking Howl stands at the fifty-yard line, a bag of balls at his
feet and half a dozen spread out on the field. He stares for a long moment,
then pretends I’m not even here, spinning back around and firing a bullet
toward the end zone. It’s fast, straight, and a perfect spiral, not unlike a pass
I’m known to make.
I was out getting drunk and acting like the sentimental prick I am and
punching my best friend in the face for buying a soda, and this guy’s here
on his days off, working on his game.
Anxiety falls over me like a tsunami, preventing me from breathing and
sending panic through my every pore. My eyes fall to my hand, the
knuckles swollen and bruised, an ache that burns all too familiar.
You’re fine. Everything is fine.
I step farther into the afternoon sun that’s scarcely peeking out between
a layer of clouds, and I keep moving until I’ve reached the sideline benches.
I don’t look his way, but I can’t help but watch his every pass thrown from
the corner of my eye as I stretch.
 A few minutes go by before he’s stalking closer.
I wait until he’s nearly reached his bag, sitting on the ground four feet
from me, before I take off around the track. At some point, Alister packs up
his shit and disappears, and I keep running.
I run until my legs begin to shake and my lungs start to shrivel, and then
I push beyond the burn. My speed increases, my arms pumping wildly as I
round the track for what must be my ninth mile. I’ve run farther distances,
but that was when I kept a steady pace, so when my body starts to rebel, I
have no choice but to listen.
My legs give, my knees buckling, and I just manage to veer to the left,
falling onto the grass.
My stomach muscles convulse, and I start puking, nothing but vanilla
protein shake and stomach acids. Maybe a little beer.
I heave and heave, my vision spinning and calves burning as I throw
myself onto my back, fighting for air my lungs refuse to give. Lying there, I
stare up at the cloudy sky and out at the empty stadium seats.
It’s like an omen, the emptiness around me, a glimpse into the future
I’m headed toward.
One without the girl.
Without the boy.
Without the game.
Who knows if I’ll even finish college at this rate? Nobody gets to keep a
sports scholarship if they’re booted from the team for bad grades.
Closing my eyes, I replay my last game, tracking my movements as if
watching from outside my body, picking apart my every step until I’m fully
immersed in the game, every other part of me fading to the background.
It works.
It works until I get to the third quarter, and the ball is snapped, but
instead of a rough brown leather pressing into my palm, it’s a fuzzy little
football with red ink penned into the side.
My lips twitch. My little man loves that damn ball.
My eyes flick open, and I sigh.
What the fuck am I going to do?
T he harsh bang on my window has me jolting , my glare swinging to
the side. It’s black out, so I blink a few times, and then his face presses
closer, a hard glare etched across his face.
“Fuck,” I mumble, turning on my Tahoe and unlocking the door,
fighting against the throbbing of my every muscle. It feels like
woodpeckers pecking at my damn temples, and I groan.
“You dumb son of a bitch,” Brady starts in the second he throws the
door open, locking himself inside with a purposeful slam and sending those
woodpeckers into a frenzy.
Alcohol, a long-ass drive, and a three-hour run do not fucking mix.
I drop my head back against the headrest, gripping the wheel for
something to focus on, and a jolt of pain slices down my arm. I jerk,
fighting back the nausea and blinking through the haze that slips over my
vision.
My eyes snap to my throwing hand, and my pulse hammers harder.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, oh fuck, you fuckwad.” Brady glares. “The hell was that last
night?”
“Nothing.” My lips press into a firm line, and I turn away, reaching for a
bottle of water, my eyes falling to the tiny bottle of orange pills I found
beside my bed before I took off this morning, the sight sending pain of a
different kind through my chest.
I know it was Payton who left them for me.
Sighing, I face Brady, but I can’t make myself ask.
He scowls but swipes it away a moment later. He always has been the
most perceptive of the three of us. “She’s the one who realized you were
gone first.”
A flicker of something sparks in my chest, and I face him better.
“She thought Little D would help cheer you up, took him in there the
minute he woke, but…”
That spark is snuffed, and acid is poured down my throat, eating away
at my insides.
She brought him to me?
She fucking came to me, with him, and I wasn’t there.
I slam my fist down on the steering wheel, and a scream leaves me.
“Fuck!” I yank my hand to my chest, my eyes flying wide.
 “Goddamn, Mason! What the fuck!” Brady slides over, gripping my
wrist and pulling it closer. His eyes widen, moving from me to my hand as
he shakes his head. His jaw clenches, and he squeezes his eyes closed. “Get
out,” he snaps.
I don’t argue. I get out, swapping spots with him, and notice Chase is
here too, his truck parked beside mine.
I can’t quite see inside it, but when he flashes his lights, I nod, and he’s
pulling out before Brady takes the driver seat, getting us onto the road.
“Chase didn’t want to stay behind?” I grumble.
“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Brady snaps. “You know we came the
minute we realized you’d left early.”
Brady doesn’t head to our side of campus, instead leading to a
drugstore. Neither of us speaks on the short drive, and even after he kills the
engine, the silence stretches, though it’s him who breaks it first.
“Look, man.” He faces me, reaching over to clasp a hand on my
shoulder. “You’re my brother, all right, and I don’t know what’s going on
with you and Payton, so let me start by saying I love her little ass as much
as I love you. But, Mase.” He shakes his head. “This is your fucking time.
The last ten years, this is what you were working toward, a starting position
at a D1 school. Your face on top of the stats pile. Your file on the desk of
every head coach in the NFL. You’re right there, man. Two more years at
Avix, and you’ll be on your way to the draft. You’re literally on the path
you’ve always dreamed of, about to get everything you want.”
My frown deepens more and more by the second, and I look to my
hand. The swelling in my knuckles seems to be worse than it was earlier,
but it’s not broken.
“That shit last night could have been worse, and losing it a minute ago
didn’t do a damn thing to help either.” Brady releases me. “I mean, come
on, man. You want Alister fucking Howl to take your seat?”
My lip curls, and Brady nods.
“Exactly.” He swallows, and I know guilt when I see it, but he pushes
past his hesitation, because that’s what friends do, and adds, “Payton is
strong. Stronger than me, that’s for damn sure, and not only that, but she’s
surrounded by people who care about her. Anything she needs, she can ask
any one of them, and they’ll be there. Shit, we all will, no questions asked,
but…” He pauses. “But she has a future to figure out, and you’re already
heading toward yours.”
 My throat clogs, my mouth running dry. I can’t swallow past it.
What he’s saying, it’s all true. Payton does have an endless support
system, and she doesn’t have a clue where life will take her from here.
She’s just trying to make it one day at a time.
My time already started, my future just over the hill, waiting for me to
climb to the top and grab hold.
He’s saying I should let her live her life and figure out what she wants
along the way.
It would be fair.
It’s in part what I’ve been doing, albeit reluctantly.
But what Brady doesn’t know, and if he did he would never say what he
just said, is that my future did start.
It started last year when I first met the blond-haired, blue-eyed girl with
the weight of the world on her shoulders. I knew the minute she showed up
in Oceanside that I wanted to know her. There was an instant need to
protect her, and at first, I thought it was because she was Parker’s sister,
therefore she was family, and family looks out for each other.
However, little by little, things shifted. I was a controlling asshole when
it came to protecting my sister, but I was a feral fucker when it came to
Payton.
I didn’t just want to make sure she was okay, I needed to, and just like
that, the mountain I’ve been climbing widened its peak. It stretched,
creating more space, so I could be standing there at the top with my hands
outstretched, waiting to take hers once she reached it.
And we were on our way, moving at a steady incline, side by side.
But now?
Now she feels farther away than before. It’s as if halfway up, her path
split, taking her in the opposite direction.
I would give anything to lead her back.
The reality of the situation is this.
I had a dream, but that dream has changed.
It’s not about me and what I want anymore.
Or maybe it is.
I don’t want a ticket to the top anymore.
I want three.
 Payton

I hug the girls , smiling as C ameron , A ri , and P aige all take turns
peppering Deaton with kisses and promises of seeming him again soon.
Cameron jogs around the car, and I look to Paige when she speaks.
“Lunch when I come back to check on the studio in a few days?” she
asks, closing the car door and leaning against the open window.
“Can’t wait.”
She smiles, dropping back in the seat and glancing down at her phone.
Ari steps up next, hugging me. “Love you, girlie. Remember, you can
call me if you want to talk.”
I swallow, forcing a smile as she pulls away. “Let us know you made it
back safe?”
She eyes me a moment, then nods, a smile breaking across her lips.
“Okay. Off we go.”
I give one last wave, turning away as they say bye to Kenra. I head
straight to my room, plopping on the bed and settling Deaton down beside
me.
“Can we sleep for a week now, mister?” I tickle him, laughing when he
drops his face into the pillow and wiggles his little body.
The light knock against the frame has me looking up to find Cameron
standing there.
“Hey.” A small frown pulls at my brows.
“Hey.” Slowly, she steps into the room, but it’s when she glances over
her shoulder briefly that a knot forms in my stomach. “Look, you know we
love you guys, but we love Mason, too.”
Anxiety builds, my throat growing tight at the implication. “Cam…” I
start to lie, but she shakes her head.
“What the hell happened, Payton? He was on top of the world when we
went back for our spring semester, and then summer hit, and suddenly he
was different, so…what happened? And don’t say you don’t know or it’s
not about you. It is. I saw it back in November before Deaton was even
born, and I see it now. Something happened between you two when he
came home with his injury, didn’t it?”
 Tears build in my eyes, and hers blow wide open.
“I knew it!” She frowns. “He’s in love with you, isn’t he?”
“Cameron, please,” I beg in a whisper. “You can’t tell anyone. It’s…
complicated.”
Air whooshes from her lips, almost as if in relief, and she rushes
forward, dropping on the bed beside me. “He loves you, and you broke his
heart.”
My muscles lock, and I wait for her to yell at me, so I’m shocked when
her arms wrap tight around me and she tugs me into her chest.
“I never meant to hurt him,” I admit, pulling back and running a hand
over Deaton’s curly hair. “There’s just”—I swallow—“so much at stake.”
When I look up at Cameron, there’s a sympathetic smile on her lips, but
it’s the words she leaves me with that are sure to haunt me.
“I would argue that there’s so much to lose.” She pushes to her feet,
squeezing my hand before letting it fall. “If you go too far down this road,
you will.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

PAYTON

B efore , F ebruary

W arm lips press to my collarbone , and a smile tugs at my lips . I

stretch my neck, allowing him more access, and his mouth curves against
my skin, his hair tickling along my ear and making me giggle.
I shift in the bed, spinning, and he takes me in his arms, holding me
tightly.
“It’s time to wake up, Payton.”
“Just five more minutes.”
“That would only make you want five more,” he whispers. “Come on,
time to get up.” He tugs at my hands, but I just twine my fingers with his,
reveling in the warmth.
Finally, my eyes open, locking on to a perfect pair of brown ones.
“Good morning, Deaton.”
His eyes slope at the sides, his voice low. “Good morning, Payton.”
“I miss you,” I whisper. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I know.” He nods, his voice fading. “But it’s time to get up now.”
“Wait.” I swallow, reaching out when he begins to blur. “Wait!”
 I fly up in bed, blinking around the room when a soft cry reaches me.
I look to the side, smiling down at my son in his bassinet, his big blue
eyes wide open, tiny fingers in his mouth.
Warmth spreads through me, and I swallow past the melancholy my
dreams always seem to leave behind, yet still, every night, I look forward to
them.
To seeing his face and hearing his voice.
“Someone’s awake early,” I murmur, leaning down and lifting him into
my arms.
He stretches, his little butt pooching out and tiny arms lifting above his
head in the most adorable way.
There’s a soft knock on the door, and my brother’s face appears.
“Hey.” He slips inside to rub his hands over Deaton’s curly hair. “I
thought I heard someone.”
I grin, allowing him to take my son in his arms, and I stand, grabbing
what I need to get him bathed and laying out an outfit for him to wear
today.
“I’m working from home the next couple of days. You can always leave
him here with me, you know.”
I nod, frowning at my own wardrobe options—or lack thereof. Literally
the only thing that fits that’s not part of my maternity donation pile are
sweats and two pairs of leggings that are pretty much stretched thin at this
point.
I sigh, digging a pair of fake jeans from the maternity pile and picking
from the load of old T-shirts Mason gave me when nothing else would fit
over my stomach. My stomach that’s now three months postpartum and still
looks as swollen as it did the day Deaton was born. Well, give or take a few
inches.
“I know, but the day care center is a perk of the internship.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to use it.”
“Yeah, but it makes me feel like I’m…I don’t know, doing things on my
own, you know?”
Parker nods, making ridiculous faces at his nephew, who tries his best to
reach out and grab him but hasn’t quite figured out his hand and eye
coordination yet.
My phone buzzes on my nightstand, and I don’t have to look to know
who it is.
 It’s always the same person, every single morning at nearly the same
exact time.
I ignore it for a moment, but Parker clears his throat.
“I take it you know Mason is calling?”
I nod, tossing a pair of socks beside my jeans and top, then reach over to
grab my phone. “I do.”
“You gonna answer it?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Parker lifts a brow. “’Cause you haven’t yet, and your cheeks turned
pink when I mentioned whose name was on the screen.”
A chuckle escapes me, and I raise two brows right back, pressing the
Answer and Speaker button all in one.
“Someone was about to get in some serious trouble here, Pretty Little.”
“Don’t you have class or something?” My brother scowls at the black
screen.
Mason chuckles, and I quirk my lips to one side. “Don’t you have work
or something, old man?”
Parker scoffs, crossing his arms.
“Course I have class,” Mason says. “I’m on my way. This is my pep talk
time.”
“She doesn’t need a pep talk.”
“Who said she did? I’m the one about to take a fifty-question exam.
Feel bad for me, Parker, ‘cause your sister won’t.”
Parker rolls his eyes, but a smile pulls at his lips as he passes Deaton
back to me and walks out.
I drop my phone into the baby shower caddy, heading into the
bathroom.
“He’s gone.”
“Good. Let’s start over.” Mason pauses. “Good morning, Pretty Little.”
I shake my head with a smile, turning on the water. “Good morning,
Superstar. Test today, huh?”
“Yep. It’s going to be a rough one, and then Coach asked to see me,
which is weird since it’s February, and we only really see each other during
weight training.”
“Maybe it’s about next season?”
“Maybe. Guess we’ll see. Now, you know what to do.”
 I roll my eyes even though he can’t see, but then I give him what he
wants. I test the temperature, then situate Deaton in his bath, clicking the
button to swap to FaceTime, something we’ve done every day since the
gang went back to campus for their spring semester.
His face pops up on the screen, and something knocks in my chest, my
cheeks warming at the unexpected sight, but I say nothing as his view isn’t
of me. He smiles wide at Deaton and starts talking as if they’re having a full
conversation.
As if Deaton has any idea what’s going on at all.
Mason jokes with him about his morning workout, and when Deaton
flaps his arms in the water, Mason’s smile grows wide.
“Dang, my man, look at the guns on you.” He chuckles, and a low laugh
leaves me.
“He’s getting chubby, isn’t he?” I tickle his belly.
“Nah, he’s getting strong. Tell her, Little D.”
Deaton splashes some more, and for a moment, I wonder if he does
know he’s being spoken to.
Mason smiles, and when he looks directly into the screen, as if he’s
looking right at me, my cheeks burn for some reason.
I swallow. “Why are you shirtless?”
The smirk that tugs at his lips is deadly, and I almost roll my eyes again,
but something forces them to stay locked on the screen.
Man, he’s…ripped.
I clear my throat.
“Had to get an early morning session in. My meeting with Coach is at
my normal training time, so here I am.” A whistle blows in the background,
and his head jerks left, hand lifting to cover his eyes.
“Johnson, the fuck you doing?”
Mason grins, looking back at the screen. “Oops. I’m caught. Let me see
you before I go.”
I shake my head even though he can’t see. “Get back to it, Johnson.”
He laughs. “Yes, ma’am.” Mason looks at the screen a moment longer,
then nods. “All right. We’re on for our call tonight? I…uh…” He looks
nervous all of a sudden, his gaze straying from the screen, and I bite my nail
in response.
Mason swallows, a serious expression now on his face. “I have
something to tell you. It’s… I want to look at you when I tell you, though,
okay? So tonight, FaceTime, me and you?”
My pulse patters beneath my skin, and I shift anxiously. Trying to tamp
down my suddenly rising anxiousness, I tease, “Don’t you have better
things to do at college than sit on the phone with me on a Friday night?”
“Ha!” Mason tosses his head back obnoxiously, his smile far too cocky.
“Cute. That’s cute.” But that cockiness falls away in an instant, and what’s
left is a timid grin that has my blood pressure rising. “Tonight, gorgeous
girl.”
He hangs up, and I stare at the blank screen longer than I should.

Mason

“I don ’ t know about this , C oach . I mean , I know I look good , but
are you sure I can’t get in trouble for this kind of thing? Feeling a lot like
undercover Playboy but, you know, the one for girls.”
Coach just chuckles, tossing me a second bottle of some shit that’s
suspiciously close to lube if you ask me. “Enjoy it, son. Any minute now
and a pretty little thing is going to walk through that door. If you ask real
nice, maybe she’ll help rub it on your back.”
I scoff. “Yeah, you say that until a dude with big beefy hands and a
monster’s build walks in.”
“I’ve never heard them described as beefy, but I guess I don’t hate it.”
My muscles freeze, and oh so fucking slowly, my head turns, attention
pointing over my shoulder.
Like in my damn dreams, there she is, standing in my gym and smiling
like the Cheshire Cat.
My eyes trail over her, locking on to the fact that she’s wearing my old
high school football shirt, the chest stretched mouthwateringly tight over
breasts, now even fuller than before. She shifts on her feet, and I notice the
camera bag hanging from her shoulder.
My smirk is slow, and I spin to fully face her. “Are you shittin’ me? Am
I being punked? Hallucinating? I gotta be imagining this, right? Ain’t no
way you’re here right now.”
 Coach knocks me on the shoulder, but I don’t break eye contact with the
girl. “Beefy fucker, my ass,” he mumbles, then he might as well turn
invisible, because I couldn’t tell you if he stays or goes. All I see is her. In.
My. Gym.
Well, the athletic department’s gym at Avix, but tomayto fucking
tomahto.
She does her best not to smile, squashing her lips to the side and
tethering her fist tighter on the strap of her bag with each step I take closer.
And I’m moving in on her fast.
I get about two feet from her and raise a brow, and there it is.
She laughs, lowers her bag to the floor, and throws herself in my arms.
Her hands wrap around my neck, mine her waist, and I lift her up,
spinning her in circles, her airy laugh echoing around us.
When she pulls back, she smiles, but just as fast, her nose crunches up
and she pushes off. “Oh my god, you’re sticky.”
“Yeah, the chick setting up the lights and shit said I had to be shiny.”
“And you, what, used the whole bottle?”
“Bottle and a half.” I frown.
Payton laughs loudly, glancing around the room, her gaze pausing on
Jeremy, one of the Sharks star receivers Chase competes against, and
Fernando Blanca, a beast of a lineman, the other two from the team Coach
asked to be a part of this little project. Her brows raise when Fernando tugs
his shirt over his head, and I glare, slipping into her view.
“So. I mean, what the hell?”
Payton grins, gesturing to her bag and the badge I didn’t notice hanging
around her neck. “Avix asked Embers Elite to be the official photographer
for a new project they’re testing. I don’t know much about it other than it’s
for your school newspaper’s social media pages. Today is football,
tomorrow baseball, and then basketball.”
Tomorrow… Wait.
“You’re staying here? For three days?” My brain catches up to me, and I
look behind her. “Where’s Deaton?”
Her features soften at his name, and she tucks a few loose pieces of hair
behind her ear, the rest piled high in a ponytail on her head. “I just met up
with Cam at the child development center. I almost turned this down
because I wasn’t sure about the situation, but Lolli suggested I call Cam
first, and thankfully she was eager to take the weekend to get more of her
volunteer hours in. She’ll be there with him each day, and the shoots are
only for three hours, so it’s not like he’ll be there too long and⁠—”
“Take a breath,” I tease, my knuckles grazing her jaw before I can stop
myself.
Her cheeks grow warm, and she drops her chin to her chest, so I let my
hand fall.
“He’s in good hands there. Especially with Cam.”
She nods, sighing and looking past me. “Well, I’d better go meet the
crew and get set up.” She pauses when she realizes I’m still staring and
narrows her eyes. “What?”
“My mind is blown. I can’t believe you’re standing here right now.” I
laugh. “And wearing my shirt, no less.”
“Well, nothing else fits, so…”
“Good. I hope nothing else fits ever again and all you get to wear is my
shit.”
She shakes her head in amusement. “Go wipe some of that stuff off. It’s
going to dry and be useless by the time I’m ready for you anyway.”
With that, she walks off, and I watch her go, yet another shuffle and
shift stirring in my chest, another piece sliding into place.
My puzzle’s got to be nearly complete now, right?
We’re here at Avix. Together. All three of us.
That’s got to be some kind of sign.
Payton steps up to who I thought was the photographer, and within a
moment, she’s swarmed, her short little body buried behind half a dozen
others from the school paper.
A hand clamps down on my shoulder, and I look to find Coach standing
there with a brow raised. “Go on, kid. Get some push-ups in, and get those
veins bulging. Wouldn’t want to look like the skinny one in the pictures
next to Blanca.”
I glare, and he laughs, shaking his head as he stalks off toward the long
table covered in finger foods. Pretty sure it’s intended for the staff, but that
doesn’t stop him.
Shaking off my thoughts, I do exactly what Coach suggested, adding in
a solid hundred crunches before those big blue eyes find mine in the crowd,
calling me over without a word.
Too bad Jeremy and Fernando are called on too. I smirk when I glance
at Jeremy, his chest, arms, and overall physique smaller than mine, but a
frown digs at my brows when I face Fernando. Fucker’s added a good
twenty pounds on since the end of the season, and in all the right places, but
she doesn’t like that big, buff look.
She likes trim and tapered, wide shoulders, and a core that looks painted
on…if I do say so my damn self. She likes, well, me.
I glance her way, narrowing in on the pink of her cheeks as she looks at
the three of us through the lens.
Right?
“Okay, Payton, we want at least a dozen group shots to pick from and
then double that for the individuals. We’ll be featuring them come summer,
trickling them in to help build excitement for next season. And if there’s
one thing the Avix Inquirer readers love, it’s abs, so don’t hold back. Move
them where you want them, and let us know when you’re done. Kari and
Leddy are working lighting, so just do you, and they’ll follow your lead.”
Payton nods, the slight press of her lips letting me know she’s a bit
nervous, but then she blinks, straightens her shoulders, and hot damn. She
transforms.
One minute she’s a blushing, shy little thing, and the next she’s bossing
a two-hundred-and-sixty-pound man around like no one’s business.
It’s a damn good look on her, but I’m not the only one who thinks so,
and when it’s Fernando who goes first for his solos, he’s a smirking bastard,
staring her right in the eye the entire time.
I stand to the side, arms crossed and glare intact, listening as she
instructs him, praising when he does what he’s told, but when she asks him
to twist his torso slightly while keeping his hips facing forward, he pretends
like he don’t get it.
“You’ll have to show me, sweetheart. I’m not sure what you mean.” He
grins, and the fucker ain’t ugly.
But he is lying.
I’ve seen his Instagram. He’s a thirst trap pro. Loves the mirror.
Payton steps away from the tripod and onto the small rise of the set. Her
hands move out, and she directs him without touching him.
Fernando’s eyes are on her face, and he smiles wider. “Like this?” He
doesn’t even move.
“No.” Payton chuckles, and this time when her hand goes out, her
fingers press to his upper abs. “Twist here. It will define the abs more, and
keep facing forward.”
 My teeth are grinding together, and I take a step forward when his hand
shoots out, wrapping around her wrist as he does what she asked.
Payton’s eyes snap my way instantly, and that is the only reason my feet
freeze in place.
She knows I don’t like it, doesn’t she?
Knows I want his hands off her and hers off him.
“Like this?” Fernando smirks.
Anger and jealousy start to boil in my blood, and my foot starts tapping.
This is her job. She’s working.
She’s not touching him because she wants to.
I close my eyes, counting to five, and when I open them, she’s behind
the camera again.
Jeremy goes next and listens a hell of a lot better, and then it’s my turn.
I step into the lights, standing tall, and wait for her instructions.
“Uh…um.” She swallows. “Okay, straight on first, and then slow shifts
to each side, hips staying in place.”
I’m a good fucking boy, doing exactly what she asked, my eyes locked
on hers through the lens the entire time.
“Holy shit.” The lead editor of the Avix Inquirer, as she introduced
herself earlier, steps up, staring at the sample screen to the left. Her eyes
move from it to me and back. “These are just…yes.”
Payton’s eyes snap up over the lip of the camera, and I wink at her.
I don’t know what those images show, but I know what I was thinking
about the entire time she was clicking that little button.
Me and her.
Her and me.
Every which way our bodies could move and how well she’d listen if it
were me on the other side of this little situation. How bad I want to get her
in front of a camera lens so she can see how I see her.
Literal, utter perfection.
A fucking mirage I want to capture and keep. Spoil. Fucking ravage.
A flush works its way up Payton’s neck, and I chew the inside of my
cheek to keep from smiling. I’m standing here alone under bright-ass lights
in nothing but a pair of navy football pants, undone in the front to show my
black briefs.
I lift my left hand, run my thumb knuckle along my lips, and watch as
her chest rises, the flash flickering over and over and over. My teeth sink
into my lip next, and she drops her gaze to the floor, but only for a split
second, and then she’s back, gripping her camera and tugging it from the
tripod. She steps right once, twice, and my head follows, my body staying
stationary, and I swear she shudders.
“Done,” she calls out suddenly, and then she spins on her heels, her
steps carrying her across the room and through a small door in the back of
it.
Chuckling to myself, I step down, moving over to my bag in the corner.
I pull my pants off and slip into a pair of track pants, and I no sooner get
the shirt pulled over my head than a familiar voice reaches me.
“Hey, stranger.”
Fuck.
I turn to find Allana, a girl I met at one of the football parties when I
first got to Avix. “Allana, hey, how are you?”
“Good.” She reaches up, her hands drowning in a baseball hoodie, and
tucks her blond hair behind her ear. “I called you a couple of times. You
know, after.”
I clear my throat, offering a soft smile. “Yeah, I’m sorry, but I’m…not
single anymore.”
Allana nods, opening her mouth, but when my eyes slide away, tracking
Payton as she steps back into the room, Allana looks back to me. “Yeah, of
course. Well, I just wanted to say hi. See you around.”
I nod, glancing her way briefly. “Yeah, see you around.” I stuff my
things in my bag, meeting Payton halfway.
She’s beaming, and the expression makes me laugh.
“Have fun?”
“That was so awesome! They said they love what they’re seeing. I
mean, it’s only the sample sheets, and none are edited but⁠—”
“But I’m flawless and don’t need any edits.”
Payton’s lips smack closed, and then she laughs loudly, and when she
loops her arm through mine, pride and something else thump behind my
ribs. I take her bag and heave it over mine.
“Come on, Superstar.” She drags me along. “Let’s go get Deaton, and
you can walk us back to our room.”
“That sounds like the best idea I’ve ever heard.”
She smiles, but of course on our way across campus, Fernando spots us
and jogs over.
 “Hey, photo girl.”
“Hey.” She smiles.
“Think you could show me some sneak peeks?” He presses closer, and I
push her back, glaring harder when he smiles my way.
“Not a chance.” She laughs. “I mean, if I want to get fired, sure…but I
don’t.”
“Fine, fine,” he teases, reaching out and flicking her ponytail. “Maybe
I’ll see you around.”
“You won’t,” I snap. “Go the fuck away.”
Payton blushes, but my teammate only laughs, winking before
sauntering off like the shithead he is.
I heave a sigh, watching him with a glare. “He’s a jackass.”
We start walking again, and Payton laughs, shaking her head.
“He’s not so bad.” My eyes move her way, and she glances over. “If you
think college athletes are bad, you have no idea. The egos only float higher
at the next level.”
That’s right.
She’s an intern for hire at Embers Elite, the official photographer of the
pros. She’s around men all day.
Older men.
Pro fucking players.
Before I know what I’m doing, my hand is pressed to her ribs, and I’ve
spun us, backing her up against the wall of the child development building.
Her head presses softly to the old brick, and I’m on her.
Payton gasps, and my eyes slice to her lips, zoning in on the little part
between them, and my tongue suddenly feels too heavy. It wants to slide out
and slip between her lips. To taste her.
I need to taste her.
“Mase,” she whispers.
“I don’t like when other men look at you, and I hate when you look at
them.” I lean down, lowering my forehead to hers. “I’m a man. A stupid,
possessive one who wants you all to himself.”
Another gasp, this one deeper, rawer, and my eyes flick open as I realize
what I just said.
I pull back, needing to know what her eyes are saying.
They’re wide and wanting, and once again, I’m locking on her pouty,
pink lips. “Pretty Little,” I all but beg.
 I lean in, and a door slams at our side, making her jump.
Her head whips away, and it feels like a sharp slap across my cheek.
Fuck.
I swallow, running my hand through my hair when she squeezes away
from me.
I open the door for us, unable to meet her eyes fully. “Come on, Pretty
Little. Let’s go get Little D.”
Unfortunately, Cameron has him all packed up when we get there. He’s
already fast asleep in his carrier, a blanket softly laid over the top, so I don’t
get to play with him on the short walk to her room, a small studio-like place
in the staff quarters reserved for guest speakers and, well, photographers, I
guess.
He doesn’t wake when she transfers him to his playpen, already set up
in the corner, and with every passing minute, my limbs grow heavier, so I
finally face her and say, “I don’t want to leave.”
Payton smiles up at me, her head tipped to the side. “Why would you
leave?”
My brows go up. “You want me to stay?”
“You act like you’d listen if I said no.”
My grin grows quickly, and I face her fully. “But are you saying no?”
Her eyes narrow playfully, and she crosses her arms, but I grip her
biceps and give her a little shake.
“Come on, girl. Let me hear it.”
She chews her lower lip, but that smile breaks free, and she laughs.
“Hey, Mase?”
I’m full-blown smirking now. “Hey, Pretty Little.”
“Do you want to stay with us tonight?”
Us.
Not just her. Them.
Us three.
I don’t bother answering. I toss my shit in the corner and pull up
DoorDash.
I’ll be damned if we leave this room tonight.
I’m not sharing her attention with anyone.
Not even the delivery driver.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

PAYTON

B efore , F ebruary

“B ye !” I call over my shoulder , slipping out the gym double doors

and coming to a complete stop.
Mason and his parents are all standing there with grins on their faces.
Vivian throws herself at me, hugging the life out of me, and Evan comes
up next, his hug just as warm but less fierce than his wife’s.
“Someone’s missed you,” he teases as he pulls away.
“I don’t think it’s me she misses,” I joke back, and when Vivian claps
her hands, eyes big and eager, I share an I told you so look with her
husband.
“Can we go get him now?” she nearly begs, hands folded like in prayer
and all.
I look to Mason, and he winks.
“She thought she’d get some kind of perk with Cam in the building, but
they wouldn’t let any of us through the gate.” He frowns then. “You should
really put me on the list Cam was talking about, just in case.”
 “Sure thing, Superstar.” I chuckle, handing off my camera bag when he
reaches for it. I turn to his parents. “What are you guys doing here?”
Vivian loops her arm in mine, a sneaky way to quicken my speed, and it
warms my heart to know how much she cares for my son. Maybe even
loves him in the way my own mother should.
Not that I’ll ever give her the chance.
Not that Vivian is his grandmother or anything but…
I swallow, shaking off the anxiousness threatening to slip in, and focus
on the now.
And right now, I am happy to see them.
“Well, it’s been a while since we’ve made it down for a visit, and when
we heard you were here, we figured we may as well come where you are
and see our kids, too.”
“Hey,” Mason pretends to complain. “You’d rather see her than me and
your sweet princess baby girl?”
“Oh, please.” His mother raises a brow, and I laugh as it looks so much
like her son. “Noah is glued to Ari’s side after everything, and she likes it
that way, and you…well, yeah, I’d rather snuggle with that baby boy and let
you two run off and do you sort of things.”
My eyes snap to Mason’s.
Us sort of things.
Oh my god, she knows?
Wait. Knows what?
There’s nothing to know. Right?
As if he can read the jumbled thoughts I hardly process my damn self,
Mason smirks and looks away. “That sounds a lot like an offer to babysit.”
“It is, even though I should want to punish you, you brat.”
“For what?” Mason gapes, blinking innocently.
“You know what! Don’t think your aunt didn’t call and rub it in my
face.”
Mason goes stiff, eyes everywhere but on us. “Okay, Mom.”
His dad glances my way from the corner his my eye, and I grow even
more suspicious.
“Don’t ‘okay, Mom’ me. My only baby boy went all the way to Alrick
on his free time instead of coming home to see me?”
My head whips his way. He runs a hand over his hair, peeking at me
briefly before shrugging off her words.
 “It was…a quick trip. Sudden and—” He cuts off, swallowing.
“You went to Alrick?” I ask, unable to hold the question back.
When did he do that? We talk every night and every morning. We text
throughout the day, most days anyway. He never said a word.
Sure, his aunt and uncle live there, and that’s where his cousin Nate
grew up with Parker and me, but…he went to my hometown and didn’t tell
me?
“Did you go to pick up some of Nate’s stuff, or Parker’s?”
He still won’t look at me, and then we’re in front of the child
development center.
Clearing my throat, I tell the others I’ll be right back, running in to get
Deaton.
He’s wide awake this time, and I lift his tiny self into my arms.
“Well, hello, handsome.” I rub my nose along his. “Someone is here to
see you.”
“He is literally the cutest thing in history.” Cameron sighs, staring down
at him with gleaming eyes. “I want one, but, like, not yet. I’ll just play with
yours and the dozens in this class until then.”
Chuckling, I buckle him in his seat, and she rolls over the stroller,
helping me lift and clip it into place.
“I take it Nana Johnson is stealing him?” She smirks.
“Nana?”
She shrugs. “Cute name for a grandma, don’t you think?” She smiles,
then someone calls her name. “Duty calls. Literally.” She snags a diaper
from the tray on the wall. “See you tomorrow!”
She takes off like nothing. Meanwhile, I’m halfway to panic, but when I
step outside and join the others on the grass, the mere expression on, well,
every single Johnson face is enough to drown it out.
It’s clear as day how much my son means to them.
They love him.
Mason loves him…
I swallow, catching his eye, but his smile quickly moves back to Deaton
as his mom lifts him from the seat I just put him into.
“Okay, shoo.” She turns away from us. “Call me later. Or don’t. I
assume all we need is in the bag.”
I open my mouth, but only a laugh comes out, and I nod. “I mean,
yeah.” I look to Mason.
 “You can’t have him all night.” He frowns. “I hardly got to play with
him, and they leave tomorrow.”
“Uh-huh. Bye.” And off they go, my infant son in their arms.
My shoulders fall, and I sigh. “Well, shit.” I glance up at the man beside
me. “What now?”
He frowns after them for a moment but then swings his head my way
with a grin.
“I’ve got a few ideas.” He takes my hand, and I let him lead me where
he wishes.

“A bsolutely not .”
“Absolutely yes. Come on, girl. Get that booty in here before I lift and
lower you myself.”
I chew my lip, eying the ATV with distrust. “There’s roll bars.”
“What are you, a girlie girl or something?” he teases, well aware of my
pageant days, forced or not. “Come on. I’ll even let you drive.”
“Hell no. Then we’ll really be in for it.” I look to the other couple
climbing into one on the left and say screw it, settling into the seat and
strapping myself in. I glare at the man beside me. “If we flip over…”
“Don’t worry, baby. If you get hurt, I’ll kiss it better.”
He’s teasing, but his words are like a flame across my skin, and I face
forward to hide it just as he slams his foot down on the gas.
I hold on tight, stiff as a board for the first minute or so, but then I start
to relax, and fear turns into fun, leaving me laughing. I knock my shoulder
into his. “Go faster! We’ve almost got them!” I shout over the whine of the
engine.
“Hold on, Pretty Little.” Mason floors it, whipping us through the
grassy track, dirt kicking up and hitting the goggles on my face.
I’m suddenly super glad I put on the ski goggles like they suggested. We
thrash through the brush, and I squeal when we are airborne over the next
blind hill, coming down in a bouncy crash without missing a beat.
We’re coming up to the end of the path, a giant checkered flag coming
into sight, just as the other ATV barrels through the split in the trees across
from us.
 They look our way, and we look at each other.
“Go, go!”
“I’m going! We’re winning this one!” he screams.
We skid and slide, flying toward the end with squeals and shouts of
excitement.
We miss the mark by three seconds, taking second place.
“Noooo!” I shout, my palms slapping at my goggles, and Mason laughs
at my side, nudging me with his shoulder and helping me with the buckle.
The other two are cheering, the guy lifting her on to his shoulders for a
victory dance that’s a little obnoxious but in a fun way I wish was us.
Mason must see it, because the next thing I know, his arms are wrapped
around my knees, and I’m hoisted into the air. He pumps his fist, shouting
and cheering, and my eyes are wide behind the mask.
“Stop it,” I hiss, smacking his head.
“Fuck yes, second place!” he screams.
The couple ahead frowns our way, shaking their heads as they trudge up
the short dirt path, but Mason isn’t deterred.
He keeps celebrating until finally I cave, cheering and laughing with
him.
Only after I give in does his laughter morph into a deep chuckle, and he
slides me along his body until the tips of my shoes meet the ground. His
arm stays locked around my lower back, and he lifts his goggles, then mine,
before tugging our masks over our heads.
He grins, and it’s ridiculous. He has a full-on dirt mustache and dirt
glasses, and I have the sudden urge to wash it away.
In a hot shower.
Just the two of us.
Mason’s smile slowly falls, his brown eyes darkening, and I swallow at
the sight.
Suddenly, he licks his lips and looks away. “Come on, Pretty Little.
Let’s get cleaned up and find some food.”
I have no idea how dirty we actually got until I look down at the photo
the souvenir lady took of us at the end. Thankfully, the place has an outdoor
shower, so we rinse quickly, and I put on a pair of extra sweats he had in his
trunk with one of his university hoodies.
Instead of going out for dinner, we order from the small pizza pub near
campus and sit on the grass at the edge of the school.
 “Hey.” I remember suddenly. “The other morning, you said you had
something to tell me, but you wanted to see my face when you did, and then
we only had a chance to text before bed. What was it?”
Mason freezes midbite, then chews it as slowly as humanly possible.
After, he takes his soda and brings it to his lips for another snaillike
moment, and I realize he’s delaying.
He’s nervous, and now I’m nervous.
“Never mind.” I shake my head, picking at a piece of pineapple. “I’m
sure it’s not that big a deal and⁠—”
“It is.” He cuts me off.
My eyes snap to his, and everything about Mason softens, even his tone,
now so low I hardly hear it.
“It is a big deal.”
I swallow, shaking my head, now absolutely certain I don’t want to hear
it. “You don’t have to tell me.”
He’s nodding before I’m even done. “I do. I do because it’s…” He trails
off, closing his eyes.
My heart starts to pound in my chest.
“It’s about why I went to Alrick.”
A knot forms in my throat. “Oh” is all I can manage to squeeze beyond
it.
Mason wipes his palms on his sweats and reaches out, taking my hands
in his. He gives a gentle squeeze, and when my eyes meet his, he tries to
smile. Tries and fails.
“You’re scaring me, Mase.”
“I found him,” he whispers, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly.
My pulse roars in my ears, too afraid to read into his words but fucking
terrified I’ve misunderstood at the same time. “Found who?” I rasp,
pretending there is more than one person he could be talking about when we
both know there isn’t.
Mason tips his head, the saddest yet most tender curve to his lips. “He’s
at Carmichael Cemetery on Fredricks Street.”
I stop breathing.
My vision blurs.
I freeze.
My heart jolts, maybe even stops.
Hot streaks roll like waves down my cheeks, and I can’t think.
 Can’t hear or see.
So I close my eyes, and behind my lids, there he is.
The warmth of his smile and the calm of his eyes.
Deaton…
I choke, gasping for air as I stumble to my feet and walk away.
Mason calls out, but I don’t stop. I break into a run, and I keep going.
I run and run and run until I can’t run anymore, and then I collapse, but
not against the ground.
No, he’d never allow that.
Strong arms catch me, lowering with me, and then I’m cradled in
warmth. Cocooned in it.
He found him.
Nearly seven months ago, Deaton was buried without my knowledge. I
wasn’t invited, and I wasn’t allowed to attend. I was to blame for his death
after all, so his family taunted me, sending me the image of his casket and
refusing to tell me where he’d been laid to rest.
I cried myself to sleep for weeks after that, the gaping hole in my heart
widening with the knowledge that I’d never get to say goodbye. Knowing
he’d never have a visitor because his family didn’t care. The boy who gave
me my little boy would be forever alone, and there was nothing I could do.
But the man beside me…
I lift my head, blinking through the storm in my eyes until a soft brown
pair comes into view.
Mason.
My lips tremble, and I clench my teeth, my face falling into his touch
when his hand lifts.
“You did this for me.”
“Have you not figured it out yet, Pretty Little?” Mason presses his
forehead to mine. “I would do anything for you.”
My emotions rage, and my heart twists, full of fear and relief and a
million other things.
We stare at each other, and when his mouth parts, my eyes fall to his
lips.
Reaching out, I run my thumb along his lower one, my entire body
shaking.
This man, he’s been my rock. My friend. My savior.
My new favorite person.
 He’s not just Mason.
He’s my Mason.
I look back and forth from his eyes to his mouth, pulse pounding out of
control as I lean a little closer.
My eyes close, and his soft whisper rolls across my skin.
“No.”
I tense, gaze flicking to his pained one.
He shakes his head, desperation and sorrow in his tone. “No, baby.”
“Mase,” I cry.
But Mason only shakes his head, pressing his forehead to mine once
more. “I want you to have to kiss me because you can’t stand the thought of
not,” he rasps. “I want it to be desperate and urgent and necessary.” He
swallows, whispering, “But I want it to be mine and only mine.”
Not his.
That’s what he doesn’t say.
He wants this, this surreal, gravity-defying connection that’s tethering
us, but he wants it to be real. Ours.
More tears fall from my face, and when Mason tucks me to his chest, I
burrow even closer. His arms tighten around me, and he holds me to him,
rocking us back and forth.
I have no idea how long we stayed sitting there, but not once did his
embrace slacken, and not once did his whispered words of reassurance
pause.
Mason gave me something that means more to me than he could
possibly understand.
Then again, maybe he does.
Maybe he knew exactly what it would mean to me, and that’s why he
did it.
Just for me.
Out of the kindness of his heart.
To show me how much he supports me.
How much he cares.
I care about him, too.
A lot.
More than I’ve allowed myself to admit, but I…I don’t know how long I
can fight it, this consistent tug that begins and ends with him.
What if I stopped fighting?
What if I let go and let life lead me where it may?
What if I give in and he leaves me, too?
But what if he doesn’t?

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

MASON

N ow , O ctober

M y hand is fucked . E very time the ball presses to my palm , the

ache reaches deeper. How I managed to do so much damage is beyond me.
Chase didn’t even have a black eye, just a swollen cheek, and I get a
fractured knuckle?
Not that I know for certain. There’s no way in hell I’m going to go to
the doctor, not when the only insurance I have is athlete insurance covered
by the school and it could get back to my coaches, but I know something is
wrong.
I can hardly make a fist. Thankfully, I don’t need to in order to throw a
ball, but it’s getting harder to hide. We’ve got a tough game this week
against a team we lost to last year. If I can win this, if we can win this, it
will be the first W over Oregon in five seasons, ending the damn losing
streak.
Coach says I’m gonna make it happen, and I’m determined to prove him
right, which is why my hand’s shoved in a bowl of ice, my skin screaming
in protest as I glare across the room at my sister, Cameron, and Paige as
they fight over how to fry a damn tortilla.
“What the hell is the issue?”
All three scowl my way.
“Noah said,” Ari begins, and the other girls groan dramatically.
“Noah isn’t here, Arianna.” Cameron frowns at the stove. “We’re
dropping it in the oil folded.”
“If you fold it, it will break.” Paige puts her hands on her hips. “You
have to put it in flat first, flip, then fold.”
“We need to heat them first, then fry,” my sister argues. “Brady, tell
them!”
Brady’s brows jump, and he looks from the TV to me to them. “What
Ari baby said.”
“You don’t even know what she said, you big dummy! You just like to
argue.” Cameron shakes her head. “I’m doing it.”
“Paige is right,” Chase pipes up.
“Oh, since when are you team Paige?” Cameron quips.
Chase’s head has never popped up so quick. “What? I’m not!” He
frowns, though his eyes stay locked on Cameron rather than looking at the
blond who is now staring down at her fingernails.
Cameron smirks, a challenge in her eye I’m not sure I understand, and
when I look to Chase, his are narrowed in on our friend.
Finally, he huffs, shaking his head. “Whatever, but it’s going to split if
you fold it first.” The other girls glare, but Chase looks past them to the
stove. “And I’m pretty sure you have to start over now, because your oil is
smoking.”
All three look to the stove, freaking out in unison.
We chuckle, refocusing on the game film and starting back at the top for
the second time tonight.
The game is tomorrow, and if we want any chance of pulling this off,
we can’t miss a thing.
Chase huffs, shaking his head. “I’m not seeing any tells. The running
backs don’t even shift. They give nothing away.”
It’s true. They have no tells. Their heads don’t pull, and their feet don’t
point any which way that could lead you to connect the dots and anticipate
the play call. The quarterback doesn’t double tap the ball or lift his foot to
indicate any damn thing. They’re stone still, staring straight ahead until the
snap.
Sighing, I sit back. “I can get us down the field, but in the end, this one
is coming down to defense.”
“You’re going to have to go with the handoffs as much as you can,
brother.” Brady motions toward my hand. “You talk to Coach about the plan
yet?”
“Far as he knows, I’m good, but I did put it in his head that they expect
us to pass most of the game, so he’s all for the run plays.”
“Good, good.” Brady nods, and Chase echoes his agreement just as the
girls walk in with plates of food.
None of us comment on the fact that we’re now eating with microwaved
flour tortillas rather than fried corn ones.
“I can’t believe you’re playing on Halloween.” Cameron bites into her
burrito, talking around a mouthful. “That blows.”
“The fact that you can still get your mouth open that wide with all that
food in it means you know how to, too,” Brady teases, laughing and
dodging her backhand when she stretches her long-ass arm across the coffee
table.
“Speaking of Halloween.” Ari smiles. “How cute is Deaton’s little
costume!”
My brows snap together, and I look to my sister, but she’s looking at
Cameron.
“I know! I told her she should add a little war paint under his eyes, but
she said that’s just a football and baseball thing.” She shrugs. “Still be
cute.”
“Little dude’s gonna be a buff little badass when he gets bigger.” Brady
stuffs his face, eyes on the TV.
My appetite is gone in a single instant.
So they’ve all seen his costume. His first Halloween costume.
They’ve seen it, and I don’t even know what it is.
A bitterness coats my tongue, and I lift my water bottle to my lips,
trying and failing to wash the taste away.
My sister nudges my ribs, and my head snaps her way, but it’s Paige
who discreetly opens her phone, setting it on the carpet beside my feet.
My eyes fall to the screen, and there he is, smiling all big and bright,
and goddamn if the murkiness in my mind doesn’t grow a little lighter at the
sight.
He’s wearing what looks like overalls but a spandex version, his name
printed across the chest in the same font as our university hoodies.
He’s wearing a singlet.
He’s a little wrestler, and when I look to the second photo, zoomed in to
only show his shoulders, printed proudly across the back is Vermont.
Because that’s his last name.
He’s not mine, and as much as it pains me to think it, I don’t think she’ll
ever allow him to be.
Not that I’d ever want to take big D’s place. I wouldn’t. I don’t.
But little man has four sides, right?
Why can’t I have one?
Why can’t I have her?
I push to my feet, excusing myself for a minute, and step into the hall.
The door opens a few moments later, and surprising me for a second
time, it’s Paige who joins me.
She smiles softly, propping her shoulder against the wall, her body
facing mine. “She didn’t send them the picture.”
I look at her from the corner of my eye, and she shrugs.
“I made the costume. Dropped it off when I went to check on the
progress of my studio last weekend. She only just tried it on him today
and…well.” She shakes her phone in the air.
“You made it?” I ask, surprised and trying not to read too much into her
explanation.
So Payton didn’t send it to everyone but me. That’s good.
But why didn’t she send it to me? She must know I’d want to see. We
talked about it once…when we were still talking.
“I did. I make the costumes for my dance students all the time. It’s
cheaper that way, and the kids in my classes can’t afford to be there, let
alone to pay for something they’ll never wear again.” She smiles.
“Although this was my first time making anything wrestling related, and to
be honest, I don’t know much about it…but I was a little surprised to learn
wrestlers have numbers.”
I chuckle despite myself, shaking my head. “You’re right, you don’t
know much. Wrestlers don’t have numbers because while they are part of a
team or club, it’s a solo sport. No need for numbers when it’s just you and
the other guy on the mat.”
 Paige makes a face of confusion, but the pinch of her eyes tells me she’s
not all that confused, and the simple “huh” that leaves her is even less
convincing.
I raise a brow, and she giggles, but the playfully patronizing way she
pats my chest on her way back inside tells me it’s at my expense.
A moment later, my phone pings, and I pull it up. The number isn’t one
I have saved, but I know it’s Paige when I open it, her first text telling me
so.
Unknown: stole your number from the group thread.

Before I can respond, a second message comes though, this one the
image she showed me inside of Deaton smiling wide at the camera, his big
blue eyes as bright and glacier-like as his mama’s.
“Hey, little man,” I murmur, gliding my thumb over it a moment…but
then my eyes travel lower, and I see something I missed before.
My spine shoots straight, and I push off the wall, dragging the screen
closer but zooming out as much as the image allows.
How did I miss it?
Right there on his chest is a number, stitched in big block letters to
match his name.
The number four stares back at me, and all the air leaves my lungs,
because holy. Shit.
That can’t be a coincidence.
It’s not random.
The number bolded on his chest is the same one I’ll be wearing on mine
tomorrow…when he’ll wear it on his.
He’s going to wear my number as I wear it.
My eyes burn, and I clutch my phone tighter.
Baby, did you do this for me?
I squeeze my eyes closed, breathing through the thin thread of hope
threatening to take over.
When I first left for school last summer, after Deaton died, we talked a
few times that first month, then weekly, and that quickly turned into every
damn day.
I liked it like that. I want it like that.
But the girl has gone radio silent on me, and I haven’t figured out what
to do other than let her. I stopped hounding her because I didn’t want to
push. That’s what Noah did, right? When things got tough with Ari. He
gave her space and waited like the saint he is.
I’m not like Noah, though.
I’m not strong enough for this shit.
I’m freaking the fuck out and constantly stopping myself from walking
out of class, driving my ass to Oceanside, and forcing her hand. I’ve almost
done it. Four times now, I’ve found myself sitting in my driver seat, keys in
the ignition, but each time, something’s held me back.
The sad part is I’m pretty sure it’s not my deciding to give her the space
she’s clearly after.
No, it’s straight-up fear.
What if it’s not a little extra space she’s looking for…but a set of shears
to cut us off completely? If I go to her and make her talk to me, she could
say those words.
Call me weak, which wouldn’t be a lie.
I’m already weak when it comes to her, so if she cuts me out, it will
only get worse.
My eyes fall to the photo again.
This means something, though, doesn’t it?
She told Paige what she wanted, and what she wanted was my number
included with his name.
She didn’t tell me, didn’t show me, but maybe she will?
Maybe tomorrow when I get off that field, I’ll have one of those texts
from her, the ones I looked forward to all last season but have yet to get this
time around.

T oo bad when the end of the game comes , the only messages I have
are from my parents. Suddenly, the epic win under my belt and relief in my
hand, thanks to the cortisone shot my trainer gave me after Coach saw me
wringing it out on my way off the field, mean jack shit.
The weight on my chest is heavier than I expected, a fucked-up sense of
dread burning through me like whiskey without a chaser.
My restraint slips, and I send a message of my own.
 Me: Happy first Halloween, little man. I wish I could have seen
you tonight.

I hit Send and toss my phone in my bag, where I plan to leave it for the
night, the thought of no response too much for me right now.
There’s a huge after-party happening tonight to celebrate the end of
Oregon’s reign over us, but I won’t be there.
How can I celebrate a win when I’m drowning in the weight of loss?
I need to get some shit off my chest, have a conversation I should have
had a while ago, and I know just where to go to have it.

M y phone rings for the third time , but I ignore it , just like the
others, and finally put my Tahoe in park.
The minute my seat belt is thrown off, my skin pricks with nerves, and I
close my eyes, dropping my head back against the headrest. My knee starts
to bounce, and the ache in my hand decides to flare up again, likely from
the death grip I had on the wheel the whole drive.
Our quarterly check-ins from our professors went in this morning, and I
know the minute I get back to campus I’ll be fucked in yet another aspect of
my life, but I’m not going to worry about that right now.
I drove all through the night for a reason.
Pulling in a lungful of air, I step from the vehicle. As if this shit wasn’t
ominous already, a storm cloud rolls overhead, rumbling its warning of
what’s to come.
I’ve never been real good with warnings, though. Never been able to
switch to chill mode like my friends. I run at a hundred all day, every day,
in every aspect of my life. It’s likely what got me here, and while I can’t say
it’s a comfortable place to be, I wouldn’t trade it. Incessant, overbearing
sense of fucking failure or not, I want every part of it.
It can only be a fraction of what she’s felt over the year, right?
My feet meet the curb, and I look to the sky, praying for the first time in
a long time I’m not making a mistake, while knowing he and I would be the
only people aware of it if I were.
Before I can bitch out or tell myself this is stupid and solves nothing, I
push forward, counting the rows vertically, then horizontally until I’m
stepping in front of a stone plaque, so large I could have spotted it without
the map ingrained in my mind.
Sighing, I drop onto my ass, hanging my arms over my bent knees as I
stare at the wet green grass near my feet.
“Hey, man.” I clear my throat, blowing my cheeks up with air and
releasing it slowly. A dry chuckle leaves me, and I wince. “This is fucked-
up,” I mumble, shaking my head.
I nearly stand but grit my teeth and talk myself out of it, instead sitting
there silently for way too long. So long, the rain spills from the clouds,
falling over me and adding to the weight I’m already carrying.
“You don’t want to hear this, do you?” I mumble. “You don’t want to
hear how the girl you left behind has become the most important person in
my life. Or that I think I felt it even when you were the one holding her
hand while I watched from across the beach like a fucking creep.” I pluck a
piece of grass and toss it. “You don’t want to hear how in the months that
followed your death, she was breaking over and over again because all she
wanted was to have you back, and all I wanted was to take your place. I
wanted her to let go of you so she could grab on to me.” A revolted chuckle
leaves me, and I look away. “Fucked-up, right? What kind of man falls for a
girl who’s already on her knees?”
I stare at nothing for a long while, images of her flashing through my
mind from the first day we met to the night I slipped out without her
knowing and everything that happened in between.
“I didn’t know what I was doing, and I didn’t know how to stop it.
Believe me, I tried. When I first got to Avix last year, I masked it all. I
smiled and laughed. I went out and did the whole college thing, but when
morning came and reality set back in, she just…slid right back into my
mind. I tried to give her space because I was here and she was there and our
lives were so fucking different, but it didn’t matter, and sooner than she was
ready for, I was all in.
“No one knew.” I scoff. “Shit, most still don’t. They suspect, but they
don’t know the half of it. I’m different now. Better because of her.” My lips
twitch. “Better because of him.”
A low laugh leaves me, and I shake my head.
“He’s something else. Big and strong. He looks just like you, man, but
with his mama’s eyes.” I blink hard, taking a deep breath, looking up at the
cold stone before me with a smile. “I think you would have hoped for that.”
 I read over the words written before me.
Deaton Vermont, son and brother. Loved by many and lost too soon.
It says nothing about his legacy, the only person who truly loved him
and the little boy he left behind, let alone never got to meet.
I blow out a long breath, tamping down my anger, and pull my wallet
from my pocket, taking out one of the copies of the little picture I had
printed, the first and only thing I see when I flip open the old leather.
I run my fingers over the number on his chest, wishing I’d thought to
print the back side that showed they share a last name. His real dad’s name.
His only dad?
I focus on Deaton’s chubby cheeks, the tight squish of his smile making
my own wobble. With shaky hands, I stretch out, leaning the little photo
against the headstone, the sight forcing me to look away to get myself in
check.
“I…uh…” Fuck.
How is it so hard to talk to someone who can’t even talk back?
Blowing out a long breath, I force myself to keep going.
“I know he’s yours. He’s every bit you as he is her, and I’ll never forget
that, not for a minute, man. I can promise you that, but…I love him like
he’s my own, and I know I’ll never stop. You have to know I didn’t plan on
any of this, but it happened, and I don’t know what to do.” I clench my
teeth. “She’s pulling away, and I’m losing my mind. I’m losing her, and that
means I’ll lose him, and that right there makes me feel like I’m fucking
dying.” I wince at my word choices but can’t take them back, because it’s
true.
Nothing that mattered before matters anymore. Not without her.
Not without him.
I swallow, shaking my head and whipping the rain in my hair with my
hands.
I look down, whispering the words aloud to the only person who could
possibly understand.
“I love her, Deaton. I love her with everything I am, and I’m so fucking
fucked because I know now what I missed then. That no matter what I do
and no matter how much time passes, she’ll never truly love me back,
because at the end of the day, I’m not you. You left, but she didn’t let you
go. She’s holding on with all she’s got, and I can’t even hate you for it. I
want to, but I can’t. If she loved you this much, you must have been one
hell of a guy, because she’s…an anomaly.”
My anomaly.
She’s my everything.
Yet she’s not even mine, is she?
“So what do you say?” I look at the headstone once more. “Do I learn to
let go or keep fighting?”
Thunder breaks from the clouds then, and the rain pours in heavy
streams.
I close my eyes, pointing them to the sky.
Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too.
She’s inside me now, and no matter how sharp the blade, nothing is
cutting her out.
All I can do is weather the storm and hope when the clouds clear and
the sun rises, I’ll still have the strength to stand.
Even if it’s not at her side.
With a sigh, I pull out my phone. “Okay, Big D. Time to teach me a
little something…”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

PAYTON

B efore , M arch

O ne week .
One glorious week of doing absolutely nothing.
It’s exactly what I need after the last couple of months I’ve had. The
internship kept me busy and bouncing around each day, which I’m grateful
for. I’ve learned so much from it, and I’ve already made it halfway through
the online, go-at-your-own-pace courses they enrolled me in, but I am so
ready for all the free time I’m about to have with my son.
My hours are still just part-time, so he’s only in the organization’s care
center or with Lolli for four hours, five if I count drive time, a few days a
week, and I only do my course work once he’s asleep for the night, but oh
my god. It’s going to be so nice not having to jump up first thing every
morning and get our asses together.
I understand now why in all the movies, the moms are up and ready
before the kids even roll out of bed. We need that precious silence as much
as we need the chaos that follows.
 Warm coffee in one hand and monitor tucked beneath my arm, I slip out
the back door. I flick on the gas firepit and drop onto the little couch on the
back deck, gazing out at the early morning ocean.
I bring my cup up, taking a long whiff, and a smile crosses my face.
“Early morning breeze, coffee, and warm fire is my exact idea of spring
break.”
“And here I thought I would be the highlight.”
I jump at the sound of his voice, my coffee spilling over the edge
slightly. My head whips around, spotting Mason on the sand, only his head
visible through the planks of the high deck.
“What the heck?” I squeal, setting my mug down and running to meet
him at the stairs.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I jump, knowing he’ll catch me
at the foot of the steps.
My legs wrap around him, and he laughs, jogging up with me in his
arms, his lips pressing to my cheek before he pulls back.
“Damn if that wasn’t the exact greeting I was hoping for.”
“Why are you here?”
He raises a brow, looking to the monitor on the table, Deaton still fast
asleep in his crib.
I roll my eyes, wiggling until he reluctantly sets me on my feet. “I mean
aren’t you supposed to be getting on a plane right about now?”
“Oh, that?” He smirks, moving into the house and straight over to the
coffeepot to make his own cup.
I trail his every move, following him back out to the patio and lowering
into the seat I jumped from when he plants himself into the space beside it.
“Are you going to talk now?” I playfully scold.
Mason lifts a finger, takes a sip of his coffee, and nods his head. “You’re
right. This is my kind of spring break.”
I glare. “You were supposed to be headed to Mexico.”
“Was I?” He tips his head, laughing when I smack him playfully on the
back of it. “I heard Parker was able to get off and he and Kenra decided to
go, too, which meant⁠—”
“I am fine on my own, Mason.” I frown.
“—that I had a chance to have you two all to myself, and I took it,” he
finishes as if I didn’t speak.
 Damn if I don’t get all warm and fuzzy at that. God, I’m such a girl.
“Stop.”
“I’m serious.” He grins, eyes traveling over me like he knows I’m
happy about this. “Cashed in my plane ticket and got something better.”
“What could be better than a trip to Mexico with your friends?”
“A trip to Disneyland with my girl.”
His eyes widen as if he didn’t mean to say that and before I can respond,
not that I have a response other than the blush I’m trying to fight, because
oh my, I don’t hate the sound of that.
I should, right?
Wait.
“Did you say Disneyland?”
Mason grins wide. “Better soak up these next two days of early morning
breeze, Pretty Little, ‘cause the three after that, that breeze will be rolling in
on a balcony overlooking downtown Disney.”
I try to rein in my excitement, I really, really do, but I can’t help the
squeal that escapes, and I dive into his arms, hugging him tight.
When I pull back, I realize I’m half in his lap, and his hand is running
up and down my spine.
I chew my lip, and Mason leans forward.
My lips part, but Mason reaches past me, handing me my mug.
“Here you go,” he rasps, tucking it into my hands.
I take it and face the water, but I don’t move from his lap, and he
doesn’t ask me to.
We sit there in the early morning, enjoying each other’s company in
complete and utter silence.
It’s the most relaxed I’ve felt in weeks.
But there’s something about Mason that soothes me, isn’t there?
Something that’s always there beneath my skin, hovering. Heating.
Reminding me of the man who’s had my back when he didn’t have to.
“I’m happy you’re here,” I admit.
His lips slide along my temple, and he whispers so low, I’m not so sure
he intended for me to hear. “Where you are is where I want to be.”
I close my eyes at the thought, basking in the warmth his words bring.
It’s going to be a good week.
“C ome on , come on . I t starts in five minutes .” I drag M ason by the
wrist, literally, and he chuckles all the way, Deaton strapped to his chest in
the little carrier he demanded I let him buy on the drive out here.
“You know, for a girl with face paint on, you’re kind of bossy.”
“Because a unicorn horn and glittery rainbow cheeks deem me a
sweetheart.” I laugh. “If I miss this, you’re gonna get it.”
“Kind of tempted to make us miss it just to see what that means.”
I don’t have to look back to see if he’s smirking. I know he is.
“Keep it up, Johnson, and I’ll steal all your blankets tonight.”
The chuckle that leaves him is dark, and I don’t dare peek his way,
realizing it was not the right thing to say and well aware my chest is on fire
right now.
We make it to the gate with two minutes to spare, only for me to learn
the lightning passes come with a grace period in case you are, in fact, late.
Oh well, I wasn’t about to risk it.
We’re pretty much at the front of the line and stepping into the large
bucket-like contraptions faster than I expected.
Mason chuckles suddenly, a soft and airy sound, and I look over to find
him staring.
“What?”
His lips are curved to one side, and he shakes his head. “I like how
excited you are for this ride, as if there isn’t a Ferris wheel in Oceanside
you can go ride anytime you want.”
“Oh, Superstar, you haven’t put it together yet?” I grin, unclipping my
travel case and pulling out my camera, pointing my finger at the sky before
us.
Mason looks out, and slowly, the other side of his mouth lifts. “Well,
hot damn.”
I nod. “We’ll have the best view of the sunset, and if I timed it right
yesterday, on our second round up, we’ll be at the very tip-top, but it’s not
only that.” I turn and tip my head over my shoulder. “Look.”
“Man.” He nods, eyes roaming over both of the parks in view, the lights
from the rides starting to glow brighter with the movement of the sun. “You
really do have the eye of an artist.”
 I smile behind my lens, snapping a few images of the park from up
high, my eyes flicking to the sky every few moments just in case. As
predicted, the sun is nearly halfway disappeared just as we hit the very top
and the cart pauses for the change in riders below.
I click and click and click, smiling at the sight. Just as I go to lower my
camera to my lap, I hear Mason sigh. It’s a long, gentle sound, and when I
look over, my stomach flutters, a silky shuddering that melts my muscles.
My son is asleep, still cradled in the carrier strapped to Mason’s chest.
Mason’s lips are settled at his hairline, resting there adoringly, his palm
pressed to the curve of his bottom as he stares silently out at the pinks and
blues in the distance.
It’s a beautiful sight, a hundred times better than the setting sun I was so
desperate to see and one I know I want to hold on to, so I shift my camera
to capture it. The moment it clicks, there’s a matching sensation that takes
place behind my ribs, a soft, shadowy shudder I can’t quite put my finger
on, but warmth washes over me, and I smile at the two, camera clutched
tight between my hands.
I’ll look back on this moment with the fondest of memories.
A man and a little boy.
A father-and-son moment any mother would love the opportunity to
catch. And me—I’m glad I have someone in my life who holds my son with
the same thread of care as I do.
And Mason does.
He holds him like he doesn’t want to let him go.
He holds him like he loves him because he does.
“Thank you,” I find myself whispering.
Mason’s head snaps my way, as if for a moment, he forgot where we
were and that I was even here. When he really looks at me, his expression
morphs from confusion to something…more.
“For?” he asks softly.
It’s a fair question. We both know there are a million things I could be
thanking him for.
Like the incommensurable gift of Deaton’s grave location and that very
first day I arrived in Oceanside. For this very moment.
For all the time, thought, and care in between.
“Everything.” Keeping my eyes on his, I lay my head back on the cart,
my vision blurring, but for once it’s not in sorrow. “You mean a lot to me,
Mase.” More than you know.
“You mean a lot to me, too, Pretty Little,” he whispers.
You love me, don’t you?
I swallow hard, the question sudden and the answer terrifying, because
as my mind conjures it, the answer isn’t one that needs to be spoken. It’s
obvious.
Mason Johnson is in love with me, and I think he has been for a while
now.
I wonder what Deaton would say if I told him this when I see him in my
dreams tonight. Would he be angry? Happy?
I honestly don’t know, but I like to think it would be the latter.
Mason stares into my eyes, so much written in his deep brown irises,
but he says nothing, just places his hand on my knee in offering, and
something inside me liquifies.
Reaching out, I cover his hand with mine, our fingers threading together
in a perfect little fit.
I close my eyes as we grow closer to the ground, settled in a way I’m
not sure I’ve ever felt. “Okay,” I rasp. “We can do whatever you want to do
now.”
Mason squeezes my fingers.
We stay on the ride two more times, and somewhere in the back of my
mind, a low, loving voice I know all too well whispers…
What if this is a ride you never get off?

Mason

A fter two long days in the park , we only lasted until after lunch
on the third and final one, deciding to head back to the hotel to hit up the
tiki-style restaurant beside the pool for an early dinner.
We order a few items from the appetizer menu and sit out on the patio,
the weather in March as nice as it is in May here, with maybe a little less
heat depending on the day. When Payton comes back from the restroom,
she spots the two frozen daiquiris in front of our plates and raises a blond
brow.
 “It’s little man. Makes people think I’m older,” I tease. “Well, that and
the fake ID Brady got me.”
Payton laughs, shaking her head and eyeing the fresh, fruity drink
before her. “What if they ask for mine?”
“Just pick up Deaton, and she’ll forget all about it.”
“Doubtful.” She chews her lip, gingerly reaching out for the drink, but
pushes it my way with a small smile. “I appreciate it and it looks amazing,
but I can’t have alcohol quite yet.”
Leaning forward, I push it right back. “I know. That’s why yours is a
virgin and mine is not.”
She stares for a moment, and then a smile spreads across her face, and
she yanks it back. “Well, in that case.” She takes a long drink, wincing. “Oh
my, good, so good, but holy brain freeze.”
Chuckling, I slouch in my chair, spinning the little toy hanging from the
arc of Deaton’s stroller again and again, loving the squawky sounds he
makes as he does his best to grab it. He’s kicking his feet like crazy, and I
can’t help but reach out and tickle the bottoms.
“Oh, so you’re ticklish, huh, little man.” I tickle up his thighs and back
down.
He squirms and stuffs his hands in his mouth, smiling around his
chubby fingers and sending drool down his chin.
I smile, and when I feel her eyes on me, I glance up.
Sure enough, she’s staring, straw stuck between her lips, hair lying
down her back for the first time in a while.
I reach out, tugging it gently, and her mouth curls over the straw, a
softness settled across her.
“He likes you,” she says.
“Pshhh.” I grin, looking back down at my guy. “Of course he does. I’m
his favorite, ain’t that right?” I lean in, pretending like he’s whispering
something. “Oh yeah? Well, let’s see.” I play it out, winking at him for
show, and then I thrust my hand out, tickling his mama along the ribs.
She squeals in laughter, tossing her head back, fingers wrapped around
the drink. I bend in more, pressing my fingers high on her ribs, and she
twists and shifts, her ass sliding right off the chair, but I catch her, half
standing over her as I tug her back up. The move has me leaning over her
completely, her head dropped back, staring up at me with innocent yet
indulgent eyes.
 Yeah.
She feels it. This intangible marking, like the laces of a football,
weaving us together to create the perfect placement. The perfect pair. We’re
tied in a way neither of us expected.
A way I can’t fight. Don’t want to.
I lean down, eyes closing as I press my lips to her cheek, inhaling her
and holding on for a moment longer before I lower into my seat once more.
When I look up, her cheeks are as red as the lipstick she put on to match
the ears on top of her head, and I can’t help but wonder if every part of her
changes colors this way.
Heat builds in my core, but thankfully, Deaton starts to whine, and I
snap out of it, quickly rushing to unbuckle and lift him into my arms.
Little man goes silent instantly, laying his little chin on my shoulder,
taking a fistful of my shirt and tugging it to his mouth.
Payton’s chuckle is soft, and she shakes her head, taking the last wing
from the plate in the center. “Such a spoiled little guy.”
“Say, ‘Damn straight, Mama.’”
Payton raises a brow, and I laugh louder.
“Okay, so my baby vocabulary needs some work, but I think I’m doing
a pretty good job.”
Payton chews her food, looking away for a moment, but when she goes
for another drink, I see the smile she tries to hide, and I take it as a
nonverbal Yeah, Mase, you are.
Deaton starts rubbing his face along my shoulder, kicking a little more
frantically, and I look her way with worry.
She smiles, whipping her hands up and pushing to her feet. “That means
he’s ready to eat.”
“I can feed him.” I glance into the bag sitting under the stroller, looking
for one of the bottles, but there’s no more in the side pocket. I look up at
her, and her cheeks tinge pink.
“I, um, forgot my pump, and we used all the formula I brought at the
parks the last few days so…”
I replay her words a few times, and it finally dawns on me: She needs to
feed him, as in…with her body. I think about last night and yesterday
morning, how after I got out of the shower both times, she was burping him,
and I realize she’s only been breastfeeding when I’ve been away or
occupied.
 Why does that bother me?
I clear my throat, fighting off the sense of…I don’t even know what,
and add our room information to the bill the lady set down before standing
with him in my arms.
Silently, we make our way back to the room, me holding Deaton and her
pushing the stroller.
People smile at us as they walk by, and the little kids stare at him like
he’s a toy they wish they could play with, and it all fills me with a sense of
pride I may have no right to feel but do.
It doesn’t hurt to pretend, right? If in my head I also see us as the little
family these strangers see when their eyes are on us.
Man, is that fucked-up?
“Do you think we could go down to the spa?”
My mind clears, new images replacing the others, and the idea of a man
rubbing his hands all over her has me frowning. “I mean, I can give you a
massage if you need it. My hands are strong.”
While she blushes a bit, she also smiles. “No, like…the hot tub spa?”
“Oh.” Now the images in my head? “Ohhh.”
Payton laughs, and I swear she knows what I was thinking. Maybe even
likes it, the thought of a man getting jealous over her.
No, the thought of me jealous.
“I mean, I didn’t bring a suit or anything, but I have a pair spandex
shorts I can wear, and we leave tomorrow, so I can just wear this top in.”
She looks to the T-shirt she’s wearing, a frown on her face.
I can see the moment she starts to change her mind.
She fiddles with the hem, tugging it outward so it doesn’t press against
her newfound curves and starts chewing on her lower lip. “Actually⁠—”
“We are definitely hitting up the hot tub, even if we have to wrestle
some ten-year-olds for a spot by the jets.”
Payton looks my way with a knowing smirk.
“I don’t have trunks either, so basketball shorts it is, and you can borrow
one of my tops if you want.”
“I might just take you up on that.” She grins, heading out of the elevator
before me and moving up toward our room.
We step inside, and I talk a bunch of nonsense to Deaton as she stacks
pillows on the freshly made bed before moving over to me to take her son
into her arms.
 I try to busy myself, but we picked up before we headed out this
morning, and the maids were already here, so I’m moving around aimlessly.
I dig in my bag for clothes to get wet in, change, and take too long in the
bathroom to kill time. I move to my suitcase once more, folding and
refolding my clothes.
“Mason.”
“Yeah?” My voice is scratchy, so I clear it and try again. “Yeah?”
“Sit down,” she says softly.
Finally, I look up at her, and my shoulders ease when I spot the blanket
thrown over her shoulder, the baby hidden behind it.
“Are you blushing, Mr. Johnson?”
I scowl, and she chuckles, dropping her back onto the mass of pillows
behind her.
“I am not blushing.” Okay, so my face does feel a little warm. Sighing, I
raise a brow, and she smiles, but it grows a little anxious as I lower beside
her. “Okay, I’ve never actually seen anyone breastfeed before so…I mean,
yeah, I guess I was a little nervous, but only ’cause I didn’t want to make
you uncomfortable.”
She nods, peeking under the blanket before looking back. “Yeah,
honestly, it was kind of awkward at first, especially at the hospital. The
nurse would just…walk in and stare to see how he was doing and make sure
he was, well, you know, that it was all going how it was supposed to.
Maybe it seemed strange to have people watching because I was young or
maybe because it was new, I don’t know, but after a while, it just felt
natural.” She shrugs, glancing over at me.
“Can you feel him?” I wonder. “I mean, does it hurt or…”
“I know when he’s eating and when he stops, but it doesn’t hurt, not
anymore. Like right now,” she says softly, then her arms start to move under
the blanket, and instead of his little toes poking out beside me, a bit of dark
hair appears. She’s switched sides. She looks at me then. “How come
you’re not nervous with him?”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean to hold him or play with him. I swear Parker freaks out if he
moves in his arms, and don’t get me started on Nate. He goes stiff and starts
to panic if he cries for five seconds.”
“I hate that they see him more than I do.” The words fly out before I
realize they’re coming, and my eyes snap her way. “I mean…” I try to
backpedal.
“You meant what you said.” Payton’s features are soft as she whispers,
“You hate that they see him more than you can.” She chews on her lips,
gaze moving between mine. “I like that you hate that.”
“You do, huh?”
She nods. “I like how much you care. How often you call to talk to him,
even when he might not know it. I like how you check in on him,
sometimes without saying a word about me.”
“I’m always wondering what you’re doing and wanting to check in on
you.”
“I know, and I like that, too.”
A question that’s crossed my mind pops up, and I force myself to ask it.
“Do you think Deaton would have liked me much?”
I don’t know what I expected, but Payton’s smile spreads wide, and my
heart thumps heavy in my chest, doubling when she says, “I know he
would. I talk to him about you sometimes, in my dreams I mean.” Her
cheeks pinken, but I don’t have time to consider why she would be
embarrassed to admit that, because she just admitted that.
She talks to him…about me.
That’s no small revelation.
That’s a gauntlet thrown into still waters, creating a rippling effect that
expands to the very edge of who I am and what this means to me. A
complete change in the foundation of what I feel for this girl is built on.
My eyes hold hers, and then a tiny hand appears, fist latching on to the
edge of the blanket covering her and tugging it down until his little face
appears.
His eyes snap up to mine, his mouth, still wrapped around his mama,
curving into a gummy smile before closing around her once more.
My eyes lift to hers, and when I find hers already on me, I reach over,
running my thumb along her lips. “I—” want to kiss you so fucking bad,
Pretty Little. I swallow. “I’m going to step out on the balcony,” I say
instead.
I see a flash of disappointment sparking in her baby blues, but I can’t
think about that right now, so I convince myself I imagined it.
Outside, I take a deep breath, trying to calm the wild waves of emotion
raging inside me. When I lift my head, I let my gaze travel over the place,
the pool and play zone quieter than it was last night and the restaurant twice
as busy as earlier. But what really gets my attention is the rope lights to the
far right, what looks to be a reception in full swing.
“I guess this is what they mean when they say fairy-tale wedding?”
Payton steps up, folding her hands over the railing. She must see the
question, answering before it’s asked. “He’s out. Not sure I have the heart to
put him in the stroller to make it to the spa, though.”
I shake my head. “Leave him. He had a long day, taking pictures with
characters and all.”
“Oh yeah, he must be so exhausted,” she teases back.
I slip my hand in my pocket, pulling it out and holding my fist up
between us. “I got you something today.”
A small frown builds across her brows, but her lips twitch in excitement
as my fingers uncurl, her eyes locking on to the small blown-glass item in
the center of my palm. Her lips part, and when she reaches up, her gaze
meets mine first, asking for permission.
I nod, and she gently takes it from my hand, tilting hers from right to
left, smiling as the glass glimmers from pink to blue, depending on where
the bit of light around us hits it.
“It’s so pretty,” she says softly.
“It’s a lotus flower.”
She inspects it more closely, her fingers gliding along the smooth
edging.
“The lady said they grow even in the worst condition because they’re
resilient and strong, just like you.” Those blues meet mine, holding with an
intensity that has my palms sweating. “The petals, they close at night, only
to open again the next day. It’s like coming out of darkness and finding the
light again.”
Payton stares at the small flower with what can only be described as
longing. She tucks it close to her chest, her eyes closing before reopening
and lifting up to meet mine. “Thank you, Mason. It’s…perfect.”
I nod, watching as she sets it on the small table beside us, turning to
face me in a way that has me doing the same, her head tipping back and
smiling a soft sort of sly smile that has my skin prickling.
She glances toward the party below and back. “You gonna ask me to
dance, or is that only when the beach is involved?”
Heat spreads through me, and I wrap my arm around her back, yanking
her to me so hard she gasps, her palms slapping at my chest on impact.
Slowly, her arms slide up, wrapping around my neck, and I press her even
closer, bending so my head can rest along hers.
The music is soft but reaches us easily, and we sway to the beat.
It’s hard not to listen to the lyrics of “What’s Mine Is Yours” by Kane
Brown and imagine it’s playing just for us.
I didn’t know I was a sap like this. I used to tease my dad when he’d
talk to my mom like he was reading from some book of poetry or roll my
eyes when he’d refer to her as if she was this angel sent here just for him,
but now…I get it.
I understand the feeling of utter perfection and raw need, because this
girl, she is that for me.
She’s light and sun and reason.
It’s like despite everything that’s transpired and all the hurt that she
went through, it happened for a purpose, to lead her right here. Right to me.
My arms tighten around her until we’re flush against each other, and
hers do the same, her palm pressing and sliding along the back of my head.
The feeling is so fucking foreign, a shiver runs through me, and I know
without a doubt I will never find this anywhere else.
I don’t want to.
I really need her to be mine.
Please, baby, be mine?
As the song comes to an end, I slowly release her, and with every bit of
space that grows between us, a weight drops onto my shoulders.
I try to smile as I back away, doing all I can to slip past her without
touching her, because it’s all too fucking much.
It’s too much and not enough, and I might be freaking out a bit. I
sidestep into the room, but then her little hand presses to my abdomen,
halting me.
Every muscle in my body freezes, nothing but my eyes able to move,
lifting and locking with hers.
Her fingers are trembling, little creases forming between her brows as
she shifts on her feet until she’s facing me fully.
I don’t move.
Her other hand finds mine at my side, her touch so fucking soft as she
takes it, lifting until it’s pressed against her chest.
Her heart is beating out of control, not unlike my own, and when she
steps closer, my chest inflates, a heavy pounding echoing in my head as I
wait to see what happens next.
The hand on my stomach glides higher so it’s in the same place on my
body as she placed mine on hers.
She swallows. Her lips part, and she whispers, “Hey, Mase?”
I say nothing, just wait.
“I…I can’t stand the thought of not.”
It takes me a moment, two really, but then her words register. They were
mine after all.
I close the last bit of distance between us, my hands falling to my sides.
“Well then, Pretty Little,” I rasp, my voice too thick, need coursing through
me like never before. “You know what to do, don’t you?”
“I’m scared.”
“Not as scared as I am.”
“What if I hurt you?” she asks quietly.
“I’ll forgive you.”
“Promise me,” she whispers. “Promise me, Mason.”
“I promise you, baby.”
She surges onto her toes, and the world fucking stops.
Sparks fly, fireworks boom, and the brassy note of a trumpet blares.
She fucking kisses me, and it’s soul-wrecking. Bone-crushing.
She’s ruining me with nothing but her luscious lips.
They’re pillowy, thick, and full, and so goddamn soft, like clouds of
silky sweetness.
She tastes like sugar and honey and mine.
My arms wind around her, and I don’t know what I’m doing until I feel
the glass against my skin, her back now flush against it, my need for her to
be close taking over.
She arches into me, her tongue chasing and tangling with mine, the
sweeps delicate but daring, long strokes and needy flicks. And when a low,
whiny whimper slips from her mouth into mine, I have to grab on to the
wall to steady myself.
My body is fucking shaking, an overwhelming sense of rightness I
couldn’t explain if I tried consuming me, burning me alive from the inside
out. I’m on fucking fire. It’s sensory overload and endless suspension. It’s
an electric current that only she can charge, and it’s coursing through every
fiber of my being.
 It’s fucking us, and if I have any say in this world, it will never change,
because… my god.
I get it now. This right here, this is why I exist.
It’s why my family bought a house decades ago in a little town called
Oceanside and why a girl named Lolli became best friends with a boy
named Parker. It’s why she fell in love with my cousin Nate. To lead them
to Oceanside.
To lead her to me.
She might have had more than one purpose in life, but the reason for
that is clear to me, and he’s sleeping but five feet away. But I was sent here
with one purpose, and that is to love them both as if they’re mine.
In my eyes, they are.
I won’t let anything come between us.
I won’t love anyone the way I love them.
I couldn’t possibly.
I can only hope she feels the same and that she knows I love her son
like he’s my own. He may not be my blood, but that doesn’t matter. He’s
still mine, and if this changes things, if tonight means they’re becoming
mine for real, he’s the only little one I want for us. It will be just us three
forever. He will never have to wonder if the lack of blood we share leads to
loving him differently. It doesn’t. It won’t.
Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but how could I not?
I’ve waited for this moment for months, and it’s here.
The girl of my dreams is in my arms, her mouth pressed to mine, heart
beating wildly and showing no signs of stopping.
I hope she doesn’t.
I hope she kisses me until her lips go numb and exhaustion sets in.
I hope her lips stay on mine until her knees give and I get to lift her in
my arms, just to lay her in the bed we’re sharing.
And then I hope when she finally does fall asleep, I’ll be the one she
sees in her dreams, the way I have no doubt she’ll be in mine.
She is the girl of my dreams.
Please let me become the man of hers.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

PAYTON

B efore , M arch

“I wish you could have seen the sunset the other night . I t was like
being in the clouds.”
“I saw.”
Smiling, I look over at him, his brown eyes shining. “You did?”
Something in his face softens, and I turn toward him, reaching out to
take his hand. “Of course I did. I was with you, baby. Always will be.”
“I wish there was time to take Deaton to the beach before heading
home. He’s obsessed with the water. He is so going to be one of those beach
boys when he grows up.”
He reaches out, his warm palm pressing against my cheek. “I look
forward to seeing that.”
My heart aches, and I reach for him, running my hand through his dark
hair. “I miss you.”
He smiles wide, and I blink slowly, the image of him starting to blur.
My eyes open, and I look over just as Mason kills the engine, finding
we’re back at his beach house. “Hey, sleepyhead,” he whispers, nodding
toward the back. “Little man slept as hard as you. He didn’t make a sound
the entire drive.”
My mouth tips up at the corners, and I unbuckle, stretching my limbs.
“That’s because we woke up at an ungodly hour to beat the traffic.”
“If you thought I was going to waste any of my last day sitting on the
highway for hours, you were wrong, Pretty Little. We’re doing our last day
right.”
He climbs out, and I follow, trailing his movement as he makes his way
around the car. With every step he takes, my stomach flutters, feelings I
haven’t felt in a long time and some entirely new ones, swirling low, low,
and lower. Nerves I’m not accustomed to tickle along my spine, and I chew
on the inside of my lip, my eyes lifting as he steps into my space.
I forget to breathe as he leans in close, his palms planting on the glass
windows at my sides.
“This is how it’s gonna happen,” he whispers. “Brunch, bathing suits,
beach, bonfire.”
I swallow, pulling in a lungful of air as I drop my head back, dizziness
settling over me—a result of his nearness. “Is that right?” I manage to say.
Mason presses his body to mine, his smirk shamelessly mischievous. He
opens his mouth, and mine parts, and then he pushes off, yanking open the
back door and disappearing inside.
I’m stuck where I stand a moment longer, and I don’t miss the raspy
chuckle he lets out.
God, he knows what he’s doing to me.
What the hell is he doing to me?
My nerve endings are firing, and I’m antsy all over, and I just woke up.
I feel like I could run for miles, and I hate running. It’s a last resort or
something I force myself to do when cardio is in order.
There are other forms of cardio, girl.
Oh my god. My face flames at my own thoughts, and then of course,
Mason’s face appears again, Deaton in his arms, sans car seat. He lifts a
brow, but there’s a knowing grin tugging at his lips.
I spin on my heels and head for the door, pretending his laughter doesn’t
reach deep down inside me. He passes me the keys, and I fumble with the
lock, half paying attention to what I’m doing, half caught up in the
conversation he’s having with my son.
 “And after that awful flavorless oatmeal stuff you somehow drank
quicker than the bottle, we’re putting on your new Buzz trunks. I think
you’ll like ’em. I’m more a Woody kind of guy myself, but…maybe that’s a
conversation for when you’re older.”
“Oh my god!” I laugh, whipping around to face him and nearly
stumbling over the threshold of the door.
Mason throws his head back, laughing. “I knew you were
eavesdropping.”
“You’re right behind me.” I playfully roll my eyes, stepping into the
house.
“True, but it took you about five tries to open the door. Reminded me of
one night over summer when me and the others came home drunk. Pretty
sure I fell off the porch trying to open it.” He chuckles, then stops
midthought. “Or maybe that was Chase.”
Now I’m laughing, shaking my head before tossing myself onto the
couch. “Okay, who’s making breakfast?”
“The fact that I burned the toast last time means I say we both figure it
out together.”
“I can cut fruit. Fry bacon or make pancakes without screwing them up?
Not so much.”
“Hmm.” He drops onto his back on the carpet, setting Deaton on his
chest and holding him up so he can stretch his legs and pretend to stand. He
smiles up at him, moving him around like he’s dancing. “How about
scrambled eggs with cheese in a tortilla? We can’t fuck that up too bad,
right?”
I roll onto my side, propping my head up as I watch the two of them.
Mason is just so natural with him. He doesn’t get frustrated or hurry to
hand him back. It’s quite the opposite, in fact. When he fusses, Mason
comes running, reaching for him and carrying him off. When he’s hungry,
Mason asks if there’s a bottle, wanting to feed him himself. When he’s tired,
he tucks him to his chest and walks back and forth until his little eyes close,
and even then, he doesn’t put him down. He sits down, keeping him tucked
against his chest.
Against his heart…
Mason looks up at me, and I blink a few times, realizing he’s waiting
for a response, but I forgot the question. “What?”
 He chuckles, lifting Deaton into the air and laughing when he squeals
and smiles wide. A long drop of drool falls, and Mason jumps, but it still
catches him in the neck.
I laugh, rolling over, and he reaches over, gripping me by the hoodie.
“Oh, this is funny, huh?” he teases, tugging me from the couch until I’m
bumping into his side. He drops Deaton onto my chest, then bends his neck,
running it along my cheek.
I squeal, wiping at the wet spot and rolling halfway away without letting
Deaton fall.
When I look back, Mason is propped on his arm, leaning over the both
of us.
Suddenly, the room grows quiet, and when he leans forward, I hold my
breath, but his lips don’t fall on mine. They press to Deaton’s temple and
hold, his gaze never leaving mine, a tenderness tucked deep inside, and I
feel it all the way to my toes.
My lips curve, and his follow.
We sit there for a little longer, neither of us in a hurry for the day to
begin, because the sooner it does, the sooner it’s over. Or at least that’s the
thought that crosses my mind when the food’s been made, the mess cleaned,
and we’re all set up closer to the water.
I wish I could slow time down, because as I look over at the man
tugging the little hat lower on my little boy, I realize I don’t want today to
end.
I don’t think I want any of this to end.
I want to do it all over again tomorrow.
And again the day after that, and that is terrifying.
Because what happens if it’s all taken away?
What if I start to fall in love with him and then lose him?
What if the first part isn’t a what-if at all?

T here ’ s tension in the air , and it ’ s not going away .

In fact, it’s getting stronger by the minute, like a storm on the horizon. I
feel it coming, sense it in the air, but I don’t react.
 Deaton’s been asleep now for a few hours, and the outside air grew too
chilly, even with the help of the fire, so we’re back inside the house. The
big-ass house that no one else is in.
It’s just me and Mason on the couch, a random movie neither of us has
ever seen playing on the big screen. We’re sitting beside each other,
bundled in the same blanket with our legs outstretched on the coffee table
he tugged closer. His left arm is thrown across the back cushions, his
fingers teasing at the edge of my shoulder, and I curse myself for not
putting a hoodie on after the shower. Why I went with a tank top and sleep
shorts, I don’t know.
Or maybe I do, because while I’m brimming with an anxiousness that
makes me want to jump and run, I’m also melting at the feeling of his rough
fingertips against my skin.
I don’t even know if he knows he’s doing it, but he is. He is and has
been for twenty minutes now, and I swear, the goose bumps covering my
flesh are going to become permanent if he doesn’t stop soon, but I don’t
want him to stop. I want him to slide a little lower. Scoot a little closer.
I want him to kiss me again.
My muscles clench, and I curl my toes in my socks, shifting slightly
beneath the blanket.
Mason moves, too, a little closer.
My eyes stay glued to the TV, and the anxiousness in the pit of my
stomach doubles when I realize where the scene is leading.
Mason catches on at the same moment I do, his fingers freezing against
my upper arm as the man on the screen gently pushes the girl against the
wall. His hand disappears under her shirt, and I inhale, my eyes tracking the
movement and snapping up to the woman’s face when her breathy noises
flow from the speakers.
My core clenches, and I swallow, my heart rate spiking, beating so hard
I’m scared he’ll hear it, that he’ll know what’s happening inside me.
And what’s happening inside me?
I’m coming alive, sprouting from nothing and desperate for the heat of
the sun.
For the heat of him.
I lick my lips, and Mason’s fingers start their little dance all over again,
trailing up and down, a little farther each way this time, and I gasp, staring
at the couple as they move to the edge of the bed.
 Before I realize what I’m doing, my legs are rubbing together, chasing
the friction I suddenly desperately need.
Mason’s fingertips bite into my skin, and a low whine builds in my
throat, slipping free. Instantly, I’m flying to my feet. I race from the living
room into the kitchen and bury my head inside the fridge.
I inhale deeply, welcoming the cold. My eyes close, and a shaky exhale
escapes.
Then his chest is pushing into me from behind, and I jump, my head
snapping up, but I don’t look. I can’t.
This is…too much.
It’s nowhere near enough.
Shit. I swallow, panting now.
Mason’s hand comes around, pressing to my upper belly, and I allow
my body to fall back into his.
Those perfect lips find my ear, and I feel them part, the heat of his
breath sending a shiver down my spine.
A small groan leaves him, but he swallows it away, whatever words he
planned to speak dying on his lips. Instead, he takes the lobe of my ear
between his teeth, and my center spasms, clenching. I might whimper. He
drags them along the skin before releasing me, and I swear I’m floating.
I can feel him against me. He’s turned on. Hard and long and resting
against the highest curve of my ass, his fingers biting into the softness of
my stomach and sliding south.
I want to spin around and press into him.
I want him to reach between my legs and feel how much I want him,
too.
I do. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
The thought has me tensing, and Mason goes taut behind me.
Slowly, he releases me, the heat of his body retreating and leaving a
coldness in its wake.
I whip around, unsure if I want to reach for him or run, but the
expression on his face tells me I can do whichever I want and he’ll
understand. It makes me want him even more, but I’m afraid.
The feelings washing over me are like nothing I’ve felt before. Ever.
Not even with⁠—
No.
No, no.
 This isn’t about before. This is about now, and right now, I…
I swallow, stepping forward.
Mason steps back.
I move again, and he turns, his eyes blown black and locked on mine as
he blindly moves back into the living room. Like a magnet to metal, I
follow.
Fireworks burst beneath my skin, sparking and heating every part of me
as I wait to see what he does next, and then he lowers back onto the
cushion, those brown eyes holding mine prisoner, an expression so damn
deep, there are no words fit for it.
I don’t even know what’s about to happen here, but I trust this man
more than I trust myself, so when his eyes fall to the place at his side, I
lower my body into it.
The gap between us is a little wider than before, but it seems intentional,
so I sit, a ball of fire in my stomach, and wait to see what comes next.
Mason turns to the screen, rewinds it to the moment the man presses the
girl to the door, and then he hits play.
I suck in a breath, head snapping in his direction.
His attention remains glued to the TV, and ten seconds in, he lets his
head tip back just enough where he can keep his eyes on the screen, his hips
gliding down the cushion the slightest bit.
My eyes fall of their own accord, locking on the bulge pressing against
his sweats.
My thighs press together again, and all the air whooshes from my lungs
when his hand slides down his hoodie, his palm pressing against his own
length.
My body shakes at the sight, and our eyes flick to each other.
In the background, the woman moans, and I bite at my inner cheek.
Mason holds my gaze, giving the slightest of nods as his features
tighten, his fist closing over himself from the outside of his clothes. His
eyes close, and he faces forward.
My entire body vibrates, and slowly, my hips slide down to match his,
my head falling back just the same.
He peeks over, but only with his eyes, and I watch, mesmerized, as his
teeth sink into his lower lip, making me wish it were me sinking my teeth
into his flesh. Slowly, his gaze slides back to the couple, who are now
peeling the clothes from each other’s body.
 Their noises grow louder, and with each sound they make, my pulse
jumps higher.
The man lowers her to the bed, slipping between her legs, his lips
falling to her exposed breasts.
Mason groans softly, and it’s a shot of adrenaline in my veins.
That ball of fire is a raging inferno, and I need to put it out.
I need him to put it out.
God, I need⁠—
Mason grabs the blanket that fell to the floor and gently lays it over us,
and when he shifts, a hiss leaves his lips, and my clit throbs with need.
The blanket starts to move, up and down, up and down, and when I look
to his face, his eyes are closed, those lush lips parted. He’s pleasuring
himself with long, leisurely strokes, and I cannot look away.
He moans, and I nearly shatter, my hands shaking as I dare to follow his
lead.
I push my shorts down, my chest and cheeks burning with the blush of
all blushes, and then my fingers brush over myself. It’s the barest of
touches, yet my hips fly off the cushion, the need so strong I can’t breathe.
I gasp into the room, my eyes flying to the TV when a long, loud moan
fills the space.
The man is fucking her now, his body rolling and hips thrusting slowly.
Suddenly, it’s not two strangers on the screen.
It’s me and Mason.
It’s my body bare beneath his.
He leans in, licking along my neck, and I shake.
He grabs my thighs, rough and hard, and I moan.
His body lowers, covering me like a warm, weighted blanket I need
more of.
I drag my nails along his back, desperate to bring him closer, and he
presses my knees open wide.
He buries himself inside me, driving deeper than I’ve ever felt, and I
start to shake.
Mason groans and I whine, my eyes flicking open and realizing it
wasn’t part of the fantasy.
My eyes slide his way, the blanket having fallen with our movement,
exposing his wrists but nothing more.
 My eyes are glued on him, my hand following his rhythm, and my
stomach muscles tighten, my breathing growing choppy.
I want to feel him.
See him.
I want to taste him.
The thought is so tantalizing, the pulsing need to do exactly that so
foreign, I choke on air.
My toes curl into the blanket, and I give a tiny tug.
The fleece hiding him from me falls to his thighs, and my face grows
beet red.
Mason’s hand is wrapped tight, his dick silky and solid and swollen in
his fist. The tip is glistening, a thick gleam slipping down the head, and
when he takes his thumb, brushing it over the wet spot, I moan, licking my
lips.
His eyes snap to mine, and my entire body quakes, my core locks,
pleasure bursting low and all the fuck over, but my hand won’t stop.
And neither will the feeling.
Mason runs his tongue along his lower lip, and my hips fly up, chasing
something, chasing more.
I need more.
His pace quickens, his hips raising with each long pump, and then his
eyes widen, his muscles growing tight, and I clench my eyes closed, my
own hand moving faster.
A second wave is about to crash.
“I don’t think so, baby,” he groans. “Let me see you.”
I listen, and when his free hand falls into the space between us, I press
mine into it.
“All I’m thinking about is you.” He squeezes, flipping our hands so his
is on top, shoving our fisted connection into the couch as pleasure bursts
within us, and I can see it.
His body pressing me into the bed. Burying me beneath his large frame.
He’s so big.
Everywhere.
And I want him all over.
His hold starts to shake, and I pant into the air.
Our eyes are locked, the girl on the TV screams, and we both shake,
hips jolting, bodies shuddering.
 Long white ropes pulse from his dick, and I stare, the twisting and
turning in my belly a full-blown whirlpool. I might drown.
Suffocate.
My lungs are drained, my body so tight it feels like it might snap, and
then it does.
It shatters into a million tiny pieces, every single one laid out at his feet
like I’m a peasant making an offering to the king.
I wait for the awkward silence to follow, but it never comes.
Mason sits up, shuffling around a bit as he cleans up, and then we’re
lying side by side, tucked in each other’s arms, the movie still playing in the
background.
I’m not sure how much time goes by, but when I wake in the morning, I
find that I’m alone.
With a frown, I sit up, stretching, and follow the sounds coming from
the kitchen.
As I reach the threshold, my feet pause, the sight a soothing, settling
one.
Mason is sitting at the table, Deaton’s high chair pulled in close, a baby
spoon pressed between his fingers.
He notices me instantly, his eye snapping up to meet mine.
The man smiles, and I feel it in my soul.
“Looks like mama’s awake, little man. What do you say? Should we tell
her about our plans?”
Our plans.
His and Deaton’s and mine.
Heaviness falls on my chest, but hovering above it is a little white light,
a soft tendril of what could be. Or maybe of what is.
I smile and step into the room. “Okay, boys. Lay it on me.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY

PAYTON

N ow , N ovember

P ulling up in front of the A vix U football house , I put the car in

park, my eyes gliding toward the white wooden door.
The last time I walked inside there, Mason led me by the hand.
The last time I walked out of there, it was with tears in my eyes…
“Hey.” Chase leans forward, his soft tone slipping through the memory,
and I turn to face him. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, just a long day,” I lie.
“You know you can come in if you want. We’re allowed guests.”
A derisive laugh leaves me before I can stop it, and I nod. “Yeah, I
know.”
He nods, and when he opens the door, I climb out, too, meeting him
near the hood. “Thanks for lunch.”
He grins. “Thanks for going for sushi with me. No one else will.”
“I mean, I did order a California roll, so it doesn’t really count, but…” I
tease, smiling a little when he laughs.
“If you’re up for it, I’m free again tomorrow.”
 “Maybe,” I joke. “But if so, I’d say it’s my turn to pick.”
“As long as it’s not pizza. I’m pizza’d out. That’s all everyone seems to
get in this house.”
“I’m sure I can be a little more creative than that.”
Chase grins, but that grin falls right off his face, and two point five
seconds later, the reason why reveals itself.
A big white Tahoe appears, and then he steps out.
If I could sink into the dirt, I would, but my feet are frozen, my eyes
glued to his face, waiting for the moment he looks up.
It only takes a second.
His head lifts, eyes finding mine without effort.
His feet stop moving, his limbs locking in place as a thunderstorm of
confusion, concern, and cold hard resentment rolls across his face. He
looks…bad. Worn out and pale.
I try not to stew on the fact that no one saw him all night and the fact
that his clothes look well worn, as if he’s had them on for longer than today,
but the pit of dread in my stomach only grows wider, even if I’m the one
who dug the hole to start.
I take a half step forward without meaning to, and it’s like I reached out
and touched him. He jolts as if burned, his head falling back, and he looks
up at the sky seemingly searching for an answer he desperately needs.
“Mase,” I finally call.
His head snaps forward, and slowly, he heads this way, his eyes not
once traveling to his friend beside me. “How long you been here?”
“I—” Shit. “Friday.” I manage to force the word, quickly adding, “I
looked for you, but⁠—”
“But you didn’t call.”
In my periphery, I notice Chase looking between us. “I called,” he says.
“Ari, too. And Brady.”
Mason just keeps staring right at me. “You didn’t call.”
Up close, the dark circles beneath his eyes are so clear. Too clear.
“Where were you?”
“There was someone I needed to talk to.” He faces away, then mumbles,
“Not that it made much of a difference.”
Something coils around my spine, a sense of unease sweeping over me
that I can’t quite put my finger on. “Mase.” I try again, stepping toward
him. Suddenly, I really need to know. “Where did you go?”
 “Do you honestly care?” His response is swift and gut-wrenching, as is
the glare he throws my way. “Do you care where I went, what I did, who I
did it with?”
“Mason,” Chase begins but cuts off when Mason’s gaze pins him with a
clear warning.
My lips press together, a familiar burn building behind my eyes.
He looks away, creases forming along his brow. “Where’s my little
man?” His eyes pop up to mine, following when I glance at the car, the
Embers Elite logo scrawled across the back door.
He swallows, leaning toward it, maybe without realizing. “Can I at least
say hi? Or…bye?”
Finally, he looks my way again, and this time, my lips do tremble. But I
nod.
Of course I nod.
He doesn’t wait for another second.
He turns, opens the door, and closes himself inside.

Mason

B ig blue eyes find mine the second I slip in , and when he smiles , the
hint of two tiny teeth beaming back at me, it’s like every bit of tension
drains from my body.
My muscles ease, my heart grows full, and I can’t help but smile
through a laugh. “Hey, big guy.” I tickle his toes, and he laughs so easily, so
loud and fucking adorable, that mine doubles along with it. “Did you get
even bigger?” I lift my hand, and he slap his into it, doing it over and over
and giggling at the clapping sound. “Yeah, you did. Look at that big ol’
hand.” I grin. “You’ll be palming laces in no time.”
He starts kicking, his lips moving a mile a minute in full-on baby talk.
I can’t help it. I take him from his seat, my eyes springing up when he
launches to his feet.
“Dang, boy. You’re strong, aren’t you?”
He claps. “Ma, ma, ma, ma.”
 My hands tense a moment, my smile spreading slowly. “You got that
one down solid now,” I whisper. “I bet you’re talkin’ like crazy now, huh,
Einstein? What else can you say, hmm?”
Suddenly, he whines, arm stretching and pointing over my shoulder.
“What is it?” I spin for a better look, laughing when I find his little
plush football. “Did you throw this sucker that far? Sheesh. You must have
an arm on you.”
I tickle him with it, and he starts laughing.
“Ball, ball, ball, ball.”
“That’s right.” I can’t stop smiling, even if ball from his little mouth
sounds more like “buh” than anything, but it’s obvious what he’s trying to
say. “That’s a football.”
“Ball, ball!” He claps, yanking and pressing the plushy to his face and
biting on it, two little half teeth sticking out from his lower gums and a
couple that look about ready to break through the tops.
My body falls against the seat, suddenly deeply aware of the
remarkable, precious little thing in my lap. My little man is growing, more
and more every day, and I’m missing it.
The weight of a thousand possibilities, none of which end well for me,
falls on my shoulders. I hug him to me, my damn heart skipping a fucking
beat when his little tiny palm pats along my shoulder like he knows. Like
he’s comforting me the way I should be there to comfort him.
The way I want to be.
“You’re my favorite person in the whole world, you know that?” I
whisper, fighting off the sting creeping behind my eyes. “I miss you, Little
D. Every day.”
He turns his head, and a broken chuckle escapes when he presses an
open-mouthed kiss to my cheek.
“Thanks, buddy. That’s exactly what I needed.” I grip his hand, smiling
at him, and he starts jumping up and down in my lap all over again.
The door opens then, and I tense, my grip tightening around him of its
own accord.
I meet his mama’s eyes, breaking a little inside at the sadness in them.
What are you sad for, baby?
For you?
For me?
 Payton breaks our stare, blinking as she glances off. “I’m here for some
more work with the Avix Inquirer. They have some new ideas they want to
try out and asked for me again, so…”
Pride swells, and I offer as much of a smile as I can muster. “That’s
good, Pretty Little. I’m happy for you.”
Her brows pull tight, and she nods. “Anyway, I’m staying at the same
place as…last time. Maybe you want to⁠—”
Come over? Be with you for a while? Hope sparks…
“—take him for a little while? You could bring him to me in an hour or
two, whenever you want to, really.”
That hope is snuffed out, buried beneath boulder after ten-ton boulder.
I regard her closely, a pit of emptiness gnawing at my insides. “Without
you?”
Payton drops her eyes to the ground, and I watch as tears slide along her
cheeks.
But they make no sense to me, so I don’t fold to the overwhelming need
to protect. To safeguard her and hold her tight. I don’t go to her, wipe them
away, and beg her to let me make her feel better.
All I do is nod, climb from the car, and tuck my little man to my chest.
Reaching back in, I snag the diaper bag off the floorboard. I say not a word
to her as we slip past, ignore Chase’s questioning look on my way, and walk
right into the football house, disappearing into my private room up the
stairs.
I want to be angry.
I want to scream and yell and demand a reason for all the shit she’s not
saying, but as soon as the thought comes, it washes away, because my boy
is in my arms.
At least she gave me this.
Just like that, my mind completely resets, and for the first time in a long
time, unwavering contentment flows through my veins.
This is what I want.
Afternoons with my main man, doing nothing and everything all at
once.
“Okay, little man.” I toss a blanket on the floor, throw some pillows
around it, and set him on his butt, dropping to my belly before him. “I
watched some of your pop’s tournament videos with him, and I think it’s
time I show you a thing or two. What do you say?”
 Deaton sprays me with spit, speaking in some foreign baby languages
before launching at me in a crawl of epic speed.
I laugh as he throws himself half over my body, pushing with his legs.
“Look at you, a natural.” I hook his arms around my neck, pretending
he spins me, settling him so his legs are sprawled out to the side. “That’s a
pin! And Deaton Vermont gets the W in the first round.” We do a few more
moves, my big guy laughing and clapping all the way as we wrestle around
the floor. I lift him into the air over my head, using his weight like a pair of
dumbbells. “You’ll be the best little wrestler the world’s ever seen.” I smile,
making silly faces and fucking melting when he copies what I do.
Twenty minutes or so in, I drop onto my back, having worked up an
actual sweat, and laugh as he copies me, lying out flat beside me.
“Can you give knuckles?” I reach out, smiling when he slaps my hand
and starts saying “mama” over and over, because that seems to be his
favorite word. “Like this.” I take his hand and make a little fist, pushing it
against mine. “Boom!” I say when our fists touch, and he cracks up,
sticking his knuckles out to me over and over and doing his best to mimic
the sound I make.
I fold my arms behind my head when he gets distracted, watching his
every move as he pushes onto his butt, then presses his hands on my ribs.
“Aw.” I pretend he pins me down, and he laughs, shoving up onto his
feet and clapping for himself.
Every muscle in my body freezes as I stare. “Holy shit…you’re
standing.”
Slowly, I push into a sitting position, sneakily scooting back a few feet,
and spread my legs out on the carpet.
My arms are outstretched and shaking as I stare at this little freaking
miracle, afraid he might fall even though he looks steady as a rock standing
there. “Little D, are you walking now?” I don’t mean to whisper, but the
words come out that way.
Deaton keeps on clapping, and then his right leg lifts, planting down a
few inches forward.
Fumbling around, I quickly shove my hand in my pocket, snag my
phone, and press record before propping it up with some of the pillows to
our left, hoping to hell he’s in the shot.
My mom is gonna die when she sees this.
Unless she already knows.
 Maybe everyone knows but me.
Pressure falls on my chest, but when his left leg lifts and he comes even
closer, all that washes away.
“Baby boy, you’re walking.” I smile, holding my hands out.
And Deaton damn near runs forward, clearing the last five steps with
ease. He slams into my chest with a laugh and squeezes my cheeks with his
slobbery hands.
“Oh my god,” I laugh, my arms lifting him from the floor. “Daddy’s so
proud of y-you.”
I don’t realize what I’ve said util the words are out there, and I squeeze
my eyes closed, tucking him closer for another quiet moment.
“Ba, ba, ba,” he babbles next.
A low, raspy chuckle escapes me, and I spin him, tucking him in my lap
as I reach for his bag and pull out the small sippy cup from the corner
pocket. “Man, you are getting big. Talking and walking and a big boy cup?”
I murmur, handing it to him to see if he knows what to do.
Sure enough, he tips it back, gazing up at me and tugging on my hoodie
strings as he takes a few small sips of water.
My hand lifts, and I run my fingers over his soft curls, staring down into
his big blue eyes.
This must be what it’s like to have to share a child with a second family,
like a family of divorce.
Bone-splitting sadness envelops me, and I wince at the literal pain it
causes. I can’t imagine not being with the mother of my child. It would be
pure torture every day knowing you’re missing something. I think I’d want
to do everything I could to make it work.
I blink, shaking my head.
What the hell am I talking about? That is exactly what’s going on here,
and I have tried everything. Because I am the other half. Blood or not, he’s
still mine.
Even if she won’t be.
Why the fuck won’t she be?
Because you’re not enough, and you never will be.
I thought I understood, but I don’t.
She promised me.
She promised, and I wish she would have just…not.
OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

MASON

N ow , N ovember

T urns out P ayton ’ s new project is bigger than the last one . N ot
only was she personally requested for another collab between Embers Elite
and Avix, but she’s been asked to take headshots of the entire Sharks roster.
Which is why all fuck ton of us, even the guys who have yet to touch a
toe to the turf come game days, stood half-fucking-naked in a line half a
mile long, waiting for our turn to step in front of the lens. Her lens.
I was in the first flow, Brady and Chase right along with me, being that
we’re starters, but that also meant we were in and out the quickest, the sheer
number of athletes overwhelming to look at, even for the rest of the camera
and lights crew.
We were brought in, twisted and turned, and shuffled out in an all-
business fashion that sent pride through my veins. Because damn, she looks
good in her element. Moving and directing and demanding. It’s a side of her
I haven’t quite seen, a new, more polished version of the little photographer
I met on the beach a year and a half ago. That internship is helping her find
her way, and man, if there isn’t a brighter blue shining in her eyes because
of it.
Of course, after I was done, I had to stick around. Just in case.
So for the last two hours, I’ve been leaning against the wall not ten feet
from the makeshift photo booth, just…watching. Maybe waiting.
Swear to god, if I hear one more son of a bitch comment on her hair,
I’m going to shave theirs in the locker room.
My eyes cut to the black curtain ten feet away, a glimpse of her
strawberry-golden hair shining through the crack, and my lungs inflate. Her
hair is gorgeous, though. It looks like she might have cut it a little,
something I noticed the minute I walked in this morning but didn’t catch
yesterday, since her hair was pulled back in a bun. Not much, maybe just
the length of my pinkie, but I won’t know for sure until I have it in my
hands, testing the length I’ve become accustomed to.
As soon as the thought hits, it bursts into a cloud of dust, leaving me
coughing.
I won’t get to run my fingers through the length of her curls this time.
No, this time, her trip will play out a lot differently. She won’t be coming
back with me or inviting me back with her.
“Hey.” A soft voice interrupts my thoughts, and I look over to find
Allana.
“Hey.” I offer a polite smile. “How are you?”
“Fine. Um, listen.” She wrings her hands together, eyes bouncing to
where the team is lined up and back. “Can I talk to you a minute? Outside?”
A small frown builds, and I look toward Payton. “Can you maybe talk
here?” I ask, unsure what we could have to talk about that would require
privacy and unwilling to give it. I can’t leave Payton in here with all these
assholes.
“Listen, I just want you to know that⁠—”
“I don’t know. She’s a little thick for my taste.”
Whatever she says falls flat on my ears at the very loud and purposeful
comment. My head snaps forward, narrowing in on the back of Alister
Howl’s dumbass head, his Ken doll hair sticking out under a hat like he just
stepped off the baseball field, not a hundred-yard stretch of green. And
yeah, I realize that sounds fucking dumb, but I don’t care. He looks like a
fool, and I can’t stand him or his all-American act.
 He’s always on me, and I know he’s only speaking because he knows I
can hear him.
He’s seen me with her.
The motherfucker knows.
And he proves this when he glances this way, glaring from Allana to me
as he adds, “But hey, if she’s good enough for one quarterback, she’s good
enough for another, right?”
I dart forward, shove by a few, and yank on the bill of his stupid-ass
Dodgers hat and tug until he’s tripping over his own feet, landing on his ass.
He looks up from the floor, the others around laughing and talking shit,
but he knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t even glare. He grins, lifting his
hands in mock innocence.
“My bad, Johnson.” That grin grows, but there’s something underneath
it. A twisted sort of hate he’s carried since he stepped foot on this field this
summer. “Forgot you got a thing for blonds, don’t you?” The last words
leave him on a snarl.
“Watch your tongue, asshole. Don’t test me. Not here.” Not with her.
Now he does glare, his lips curling as he hops up and presses his chest
to mine. “I should ruin this for you. I could, right here, right now.”
I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about, and I don’t care. I push
forward. “You could try.”
He opens his mouth, but Coach appears with a clipboard, and what do
you know, his name is called to the curtain.
He shoves me with his shoulder on his way by, and Coach raises a brow,
but I only shake my head.
The dude is a punk with a stick up his ass, so who the fuck knows what
his issue is.
He steps into the space with Payton, turns, and looks me straight in the
eye, and then he closes the curtain completely, erasing the sliver of sight I
had.
My fingers curl into fists, and I move forward, but I only make it to the
line of red tape on the floor before Brady appears.
He shakes his head, dipping down and speaking so only I can hear.
“Don’t. I know you want to, but this is her show. Fuck it up, and it’s only
gonna make shit worse.”
Worse.
Worse?
 How could this possibly get any.
Fucking.
Worse!
As if the universe is testing me, the answer comes with a swift kick to
the nuts not four hours later, in the form of a mandatory meeting with
Coach Rogan.
“Alister is starting in Friday’s game.”
My pen freezes over the paper midsignature.
“Son.” He shakes his head, my expression clearly shouting the what the
actual fuck for question racing through my mind. “You started this time last
year over Riley. You know how I do things. Twice a season, every season,
the second string is first out.” He narrows his eyes, and I know he has more
to say, so I sit back, cross my arms, and wait for it. “I want you to work
with him tomorrow. No less than two hours. Give him pointers and tips,
take him under your wing like Riley did you.”
“I’m not Noah, and Alister is far from me.”
“He’s a football player, a damn good one, same as you.”
“He’s a dick who wants all the glory.”
Coach laughs. Loudly. He pushes to his feet, coming around the desk
and tugging open his office door. “We all do, son. Every one of us. Some
just hide it a little better.” He yanks his head, and I stand. “Watch his film.
It’ll be in your inbox in the next ten minutes. Now go. And if I call you in
here again, you know why that will be.”
I swallow, give a curt nod, and walk out, my shoulders tight and head
high, but the minute I’m out of sight, they both crumble, because damn it—
it’s happened.
I knew this was coming, but I guess my mind’s been too preoccupied to
really process how screwed I’m on my way to becoming. Academic
probation.
Academic probation with a sports waiver that affords me two points.
If I fail my next exams, even one, I’m out.
Fucking done.
Benched for the remainder of the season and personally placing Alister
on the path to the playoffs, an opportunity he didn’t earn but would no
doubt capitalize on. Any man would.
No one gives a shit who got the team there so long as they come home
with the win in the end. If he leads the team to victory, where does that
leave me?
Where does that leave my future?
I don’t know how I let things get this far. Football has been my life for
as long as I can remember, and then Payton came along, and suddenly I had
more than the sport I’d dedicated my all to. She became the most important
part of my world, and in the mix of what I’d call my heartbreak or fear that
she was on her way to breaking my heart by refusing to give me hers, I
forgot how important it was to stay strong and steady. Motivated both off
and on the field.
Because making it to the next level isn’t just about me and my dreams
anymore. It’s about them. Us.
My new dream is to have my girl and our little boy and a family suite in
an NFL stadium with my last name on it. To have the means to offer her a
happy, fulfilling future where she can travel the world if she wants, taking
pictures of all the pretty things she’s ever imagined, me and Little D
watching from the sidelines with smiles on our faces.
How could I drop the ball so hard? I should have been doing the
opposite. Fighting with all I had for what I could control rather than letting
it all fall apart by obsessing over the things I can’t. The thought of losing a
life with her would have still been at the forefront of my mind, so how did I
allow myself to fumble so far?
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I shout, shoving the door open and stepping out into
the cold November air.
“Take it you heard the good news.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. Slowly, I turn my head, and sure enough,
there he is, posted up against the side of the building.
I scoff. “Did you seriously wait out here just for this moment?”
His face is blank as he kicks off the wall and steps forward. “Yup.”
Spinning, I face him fully, lifting my arms out. “You got something to
say to me, Howl, say it.”
“I’m just wondering what’s so special about you.” He pauses. “I’ve
been watching you, asking around about you, and I’ve found nothing worth
repeating.”
“That’s some creepy shit. Little odd to admit you’re obsessed with your
captain.”
Slowly, he shakes his head. “Not obsessed.” He takes a step back,
grabbing his bag off the ground. “Disappointed. Maybe even disgusted.”
His eyes harden, and he gets in my space. “I see what others don’t, and
you’re nothing but a weak prick, failing his classes and fucking up on the
field because he can’t handle his life off it. I’m glad you’re in the position
you are. You don’t deserve to be—” He yanks his head away then, glaring
at nothing in the distance. “Just go fuck yourself, Johnson. Fail and get off
campus before you screw up someone else’s life.”
My frown follows his retreating form, his words a jumbled mess of who
the hell knows what.
I’ve met athletes who thought they were better than the next, who
believed they deserved the starting position over the others, and some of
them were right, they did, but the proof is always in the game film. It
reveals itself.
That’s not happening here.
So if Alister is talking about him and me and our position on the roster,
he’s going to be severely let down, because I am better than him. He won’t
be able to take my position until I’m ready to pass it down on my exit.
Or bomb your exams.
Shit.
No. That won’t happen. I will not fail.
Not in school. Not on the field.
And never with the girl.
If only she’d allow me to show her as much.

Payton

T hree days turned into four , and they ’ ve just asked me to stay for
another week, all expenses paid. I can’t stop smiling, a sense of
accomplishment I haven’t felt in, well, maybe ever washing over me.
“It’s crazy, you know?” I look to Chase and Paige, who were waiting for
me outside the building, in awkward silence, I might add. “This feels like
the first thing I’ve done on my own, and I’m not…”
“Not what?” Paige tips her head, books folded across her chest.
I scrunch my nose and face forward. “Messing it up.”
 “Hey.” Chase steps in front of me, his green eyes on mine. “You’ve
messed up nothing since I’ve known you. Stop telling yourself otherwise.
You got your GED, had a baby, and landed your dream job all in the same
year.”
“Internship.”
“Internship that’s turned into this.” He holds his hands out, and I allow
myself to glance across the college campus.
It wasn’t too long ago that I wondered if I’d ever even get the chance to
go to one if I wanted to, even before I got pregnant. It was never about what
I wanted before. It was what Ava Baylor wanted, and Mother wanted a
social princess, not an artsy little brat with unrealistic ideals. She was so
sweet.
Not.
Chase tips his head, and I look back up at him with a smile.
“You know, you’re pretty good at this pep talk stuff. Isn’t he, Paige?” I
look over, finding a curious expression on her face as she looks from me to
him.
When she realizes I’m watching, she clears her throat, smiling that
stage-like smile of hers. “Sure, if you say so,” she teases.
He whips his head her way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugs. “That you seem to enjoy pumping others up well enough,
but when it comes to yourself, you’re set to deflate.” He glares, and she
laughs, lifting her shoulders again. She looks at me. “Sorry again for
cancelling today’s plans so last minute, but I’ll still see you in the
morning?”
I nod, watching her walk away, and then the two of us continue toward
the day care center.
“Why’d she cancel?” Chase asks the minute she’s out of earshot.
“Something about a meeting of some sort. I didn’t really ask for the
details.” I look his way, noting the tug between his brows. “What?”
“Nothing,” Chase mumbles, watching her go. “She just gets on my
nerves.”
A laugh leaves me, and I face forward “Yeah, her never-ending
sweetness is a real brain irker.”
He says nothing, just continues to glare in the direction she disappeared,
so we walk in silence.
 Ari texted me this morning, asking what time I would be off so we
could all get together for an early dinner, something the others do every
week. Now, I get to be a part of it, and that’s pretty damn cool.
We get about four feet from the child development center when Chase
grabs my arm, halting my movement. I follow his glare to the blond man
hanging outside the building, his phone to his ear.
I smile instantly, pushing forward.
“Payton, wait,” Chase begins, right as I say, “Alister, hey.”
Chase glares harder. This time, though, it’s pointed at me. I widen my
eyes as if to say what the heck and glance back to Alister.
“Thanks for meeting me.” I dig into my bag, pull out the form I need
signed, and hand over a pen.
Alister smiles wide, maybe a little too wide as he glances from Chase to
me. “No problem at all. In fact, I was already headed this way. You know,
you should let me take you to dinner sometime so we can talk. I’ve got
some secrets you’ll want to hear.”
I don’t have time to respond before a looming figure is pressing close to
my back.
“I warned you.” Mason’s voice is clipped and full of anger.
Alister visibly stiffens, yet somehow, his smirk grows. “Chill, Johnson.
Just helping the girl out so she can finish up and get back home.”
What does that mean?
Also…what the hell?
I look up over my shoulder, that familiar ache forming in my chest, but
this time, a swift hit of annoyance follows. “Warned him about what?”
Mason doesn’t look down, his expression hard and locked on the man
before me.
But it’s Chase who yanks the paper from the guy and shoves him in the
shoulder. “There. You signed. Now bye.”
I glance at him, too, tearing the paper from his hands and smiling
apologetically at Alister. “I’ll text you later.”
“What the fuck?” and “Oh shit” are spoken at the same time, and then
I’m crowded by both Chase and Mason, but Alister seems to want the
escape. Between their shoulders, I watch as his head lifts and he starts
running somewhere to the left.
Both boys open their mouths, but I lift my hands. “I was asked to do a
full profile on four players, one from each year. Alister is my freshman.”
 “He is trying to fuck with me.” Mason frowns, taking a step forward.
“Please, just⁠—”
“Mase.” I cut him off, begging him with my eyes not to make a scene.
When I cut a quick glance at Chase, he rubs the back of his head and takes
off.
Refocusing on Mason, I find his brown eyes are downcast, a wrecked
expression carved across his face, and the last two minutes wash away.
Instinctively, I step forward, my palm pressing to his chest.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper, forgetting what I was originally going to
say.
He swallows, bending slightly so his forehead meets mine, but only
long enough to whisper, “Everything. Everything is wrong, Pretty Little.”
And then he tears himself away, yanking on the tips of his hair as he
goes to stand on the steps up ahead. Swallowing, I follow, leading us into
the child development center.
Cameron is coming around the corner with Deaton in her arms before
I’m even done signing him out. “Perfect timing.” She smiles, tucking loose
hair behind her ears.
A fake grin pulls at Mason’s mouth, and he raises a brow. “Long day?”
“Kiss my ass.” She blinks sweetly. “I know I look like shit ran over.
Thanks for pointing it out.”
“Cameron.” A curly-haired woman in her late fifties, June I think her
name is, closes her eyes, giving a light shake of her head.
“Oh, Junie. You love me.”
“If these little ones go home and start cursing, the only one loving you
is gonna be that hunky boy toy you’ve wrapped around your finger…if he
can even find you once you’re fired.”
Cameron waggles her brows, and the woman huffs, turning back to
stacking diapers into trays.
“Boy toy?” I tease, watching as she grabs Deaton’s stroller and bag
from the storage area. After out little…heart-to-heart? Yeah, we’ll call it
that. After that, she and I have gotten closer. To be honest, it’s nice to know
someone is rooting for me and Mason, even if she doesn’t know more than
the fact that he and I have a connection deeper than friendship.
Cameron smirks my way but doesn’t divulge any info on this new guy
of hers. She steps up, and I stick my hands out for my little man, a wide
goofy smile on my face.
 But Deaton reaches out for the man beside me.
My chest warms, and that heat burns hotter when I look over to find a
matching smile on Mason’s face.
He chuckles, and a knot forms in my throat at the sound. “Come here,
my man. Did you miss me?” He kisses his cheek and pretends to bite at his
neck.
Deaton laughs, shoving him away with his little hands, all to pull him
closer in the next second.
Finally, he looks my way and leans over but doesn’t let go of Mason’s
hoodie strings.
“Well, hi, mister man.” I laugh, puckering my lips and laughing when
he opens his mouth and presses it over mine in a slobbery kiss.
Mason laughs with me. “We gotta work on that, my boy.”
His boy.
I whip away, taking a deep breath as I do my best not to panic, but those
words, they just seem to hit harder today. I realize he’s being playful in this
moment, but I’m not naive to the fact that what Mason feels for my son is
deeper than, say, what Brady feels for him.
What does that mean for my son? For the dad he never met?
Forcing a smile, I turn back to Cameron, desperate for a distraction as
the three of us make our way from the building. “So, busy day?”
“Yeah.” She sighs, pressing on her chest dramatically. “We have a new
baby. He’s, like, five months I think, and he is so damn cute. He’s been here
a couple of weeks now, but I swear I’m his favorite. His mom is kind of
strange, but she must notice he likes me, because she asked if I could be
here on the days he is, and honestly the schedule worked out well enough. It
doesn’t hurt that his dad is obsessed with me. He is single by the way. I
made sure.” She laughs, and Mason sighs playfully. “Oh! There’re the
others! Ari, wait the fuck up!” she screams, and I look ahead to where
Brady, Chase, and Ari are waiting.
The minute she breaks away, Mason stops, turning to face me. I know I
owe him a conversation, but having it means I have to break open a part of
myself I’ve worked so hard to hide. That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?
Hiding. It feels like that’s all I do, and for what?
It’s hard to explain when it’s a me problem, and to get to the other side,
I have to find a way to live with my own actions and decisions…and I’m
just not there yet. I need to be. For Deaton, for Mason, and for myself. I’m
trying, desperately, but every time I think I have it figured out, it all comes
crashing down again.
I feel like a ball of mistakes, a snowball sent down the hill that’s
growing even bigger with each roll.
A million questions flash across Mason’s face, the hurt there so heavy
I’m sure he’s about to ask how we got here, but I’m wrong. The pain on his
face isn’t related to me at all. It’s related to my son, a fact that becomes
clear when he says, “You didn’t tell me he started walking.”
I open my mouth to apologize, prepared to instantly go on the defense,
but then his words register, and my face falls. “I… What?” I whisper. My
eyes move from Mason to Deaton and back. “He…he doesn’t. Hasn’t.” I
swallow, eyes watery and on my little boy. “Mase?” I whisper.
When I look up into his brown eyes, the sight is so tender, the tears fall,
and my hand comes up to cover my mouth.
“Oh my god, he walked?”
Mason’s smile is as loving as any parent’s could ever be as he glances
down at the baby boy, not so little anymore, in his arms.
“He did,” he murmurs, then digs his phone from his pocket and holds it
up. “Want to see?”
I nod fervently, leaning in beside him as he pulls up the video and
presses play.
Mason’s legs come across the screen, and then there Deaton is, all
smiles and big boy steps, straight into Mason’s waiting arms.
A choked laugh leaves me, and I look up at Mason with a watery smile,
subconsciously pressing myself closer to him. I replay it over and over,
taking the phone from Mason’s hands the tenth time through and turning up
the volume so I can hear the laughter I see on Deaton’s face.
“Baby boy, you’re walking.” Mason’s voice is as soft as velvet, even
through the phone speaker.
“Wait, Payton, don’t—” Mason rushes when he hears himself, reaching
over swiftly, but Deaton bends, forcing his hand back.
My attention is locked on the screen, and then I hear it: Mason’s
whispered words as he embraces my baby boy. “Daddy’s so proud of you.”
Every muscle in my body locks tight, my eyes glued to the still image at
the end of the video and what a moment it captures. Mason’s eyes closed,
Deaton smiling, his little fists latched just as tight to the man before him as
the large hands pressing into his back.
 Daddy.
Mason is…
“Oh my god,” I breathe. My vision blurs, and I gaze up at the man
beside me.
Shadows cast over the space around us, and I’m struck with
breathtaking clarity, as clear as it is cloudy. Echoes of regret reverberate
around us, dragging me under and lifting me up.
I feel heavy and light at the same time.
All this time, I’ve stressed and lost sleep over Mason and what he meant
to me and what that meant for me, but I didn’t pause to consider him and
Deaton. I mean, I did, but not like this.
I knew he cared. That when he wasn’t around, Mason missed him and
wished he could be there. I knew he loved him, would do anything for him,
but I didn’t see.
My eyes weren’t open, so focused on the facts of what I knew had
happened rather than what was happening.
Deaton didn’t have a dad, and that was my fault. I was the reason for
that. I led him to California, and he died on his way home.
My son’s father died, leaving him without one. He had me and only me.
Those were the facts. That is what I knew for certain.
But…that’s not true, is it?
It was never just him and me.
Panic rises in me, and I take a step back. And then another.
And then I spin, leaving my son in safe hands.
I leave him with his…daddy.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

PAYTON

B efore , M ay

“H e crawled a little yesterday . B ackward mostly .” I laugh , shifting

so I’m sitting up, leaning on the headboard. “But I think he’ll have the hang
of it soon.”
He stands across the room, smiling softly at the sleeping baby boy in the
bed. “I can’t believe how big he’s getting. And so fast. He’s going to be
running around like a crazy kid soon enough.”
I nod, running my hand along his little back. “You know, my mom has
never even tried to call. Not that I want her to, but he’s just so precious, you
know? I’ll never understand how anyone could ignore that there’s a small
piece of them out there they’ve never met.”
“That’s because he’s not a piece of her.” His deep brown eyes meet
mine. “He’s you, Payton, and maybe he’ll be a bit of me one day, too.”
“He is,” I promise, a small frown building, one that doubles when I
realize he’s not beside me like he should be. “Why are you so far away?”
My arm stretches out, my hand seeking his, but he only smiles, his head
tipping a little. “I’m right here, baby…”
 “Ma, mm, mm.”
My smile forms before my eyes peel open, locking on to a matching
pair of blue ones.
I laugh, grunting when Deaton pushes on my belly and practically
throws himself on top of me. “Well, good morning to you, too, mister.”
Mason chuckles, reaching over and lifting him off, pushing him into the
air and flying him above us like he’s an airplane. “Say, ‘Mama, we’ve been
up for so long, and we’re starving. We want waffles.’”
Tugging the blanket up to my chest, I turn in the bed, meeting Mason’s
eyes over the covers. “Hi.”
His grin stretches, and he leans over, pressing his lips to my forehead.
“Hi. I’ve got you guys here for one more day, and you’re wasting it.”
I gape, and he chuckles, climbing from the bed with Deaton in his arms.
“Little D is changed and dressed, and he ate half a jar of that nasty
oatmeal stuff. My sister’s in the lobby with Noah, so we’re heading down to
meet them by the pond.” He buckles him into the stroller as I sit up in the
bed, then comes back this way, leaning over me with a smirk that makes my
body heat. The heat of his lips washes over mine as he whispers against
them, “Get that perfect little ass outta bed, Pretty Little. Your boys will be
waiting.”
I close my eyes, but the pressure of his mouth never comes.
The soft click of the door follows, and I throw myself back in the bed
with a sigh, but I can’t wipe the smile from my face.
It’s May, which means Mason’s semester is almost over. Soon, I’ll have
him for more than random weekends and holidays. At one point this
summer, I’ll have him for several weeks straight.
The kindling flame in my belly grows at the thought, and I know if I sit
here and think too hard on it, that flame will grow into an inferno. I can’t
have that.
It’s hard enough not to beg him for things he’s yet to offer, even if I
know it’s for my benefit.
He’d give me anything I wanted at any moment. That much I know.
It’s obvious and written in the way he looks at me, the way he touches
me.
The way he tries his best not to touch me.
There’s a hint of torture in his dark gaze when we’re alone, and it only
makes me want him more. There isn’t a single part of this…whatever this is
between us that isn’t terrifying.
We’ve never really talked about what’s happening here, and maybe
that’s because the words never seemed necessary. We’re just so effortless.
We slid right into friendship and, along the way, fell into something
more.
Something real.
A sliver of guilt slips down my spine, and I tense, taking my memories
back to a little over a year ago when my life took its first turn and I found
out I was pregnant.
Not long after that the boy I loved left this earth.
It all feels so long ago and like yesterday at the same time.
If anyone asked me then if I thought I’d make it through that first
year…well, I would have lied and said yes, but in my mind, I’d be
screaming no. That I can’t do it and don’t want to. That it was all too much,
and I wasn’t strong or ready.
I would have been wrong.
I might not have been ready, but I was strong.
I am strong.
The man waiting for me downstairs helped me see that.
I owe him more than I’ll ever be able to repay for what his presence in
my life has done for me.
I don’t know what I would do without him.
Maybe you’ll never have to find out?
Smiling, I push from the bed, quickly changing and rushing into the
bathroom to brush my teeth. It’s not until I grab a comb, looking up at my
smiling face in the mirror, that my mother’s words come crashing down and
bursting the little bubble I allowed myself.
She said I ruined her life.
I literally destroyed Deaton’s.
What if the poison I seem to carry infects Mason, too?
What if, instead of being the positive in his life the way he is in mine, I
became the negative?
What if I’m not strong enough to let him go regardless?
No.
No!
I glare at the girl in the mirror. “Don’t do this. Don’t let her ruin you any
more than she already has.”
 Lifting my chin, I run the gold glittery comb through my long hair,
splitting it down the center. I smirk as I make quick work of putting it into
two Dutch braids, the one hairstyle my mother hated on me more than
anything.
It’s petty and ultimately irrelevant, but I don’t care.
It feels good to be me, to do what I want, and right now, what I want is
to go eat waffles with friends, my son, and the man who makes me feel like
I matter.
But there’s something else I want, too. Desperately.
I just have to find the courage to ask for it.
I think I might.
It’s with that final thought that I slip into my shoes and head out into the
hall.
The café is attached to the hotel Noah booked for us, the free nights at
this place one of the many gifts he’s been given since signing his NFL
contract. It’s one of those frilly places with teapots and three-tier fancy
scones and treat things. I have no idea what it’s called, but everything I’ve
tried—and I tried nearly all of it—is delicious. Not to mention the mile-high
cinnamon toast waffles Mason ordered. A scoop of fried ice cream on top of
three giant waffles? Whoever thought of that needs a raise, seriously.
We finished our plates a little over a half hour ago, but the food coma
put us on lockdown, unable to stand from our tables.
The morning sun doesn’t help either, but it does feel good beaming
down from above.
The café is at the farthest corner of the hotel, surrounded by a massive
koi pond with rock waterfalls and a tiny bridge in the middle. There are
ducks sitting in the moss, little ducklings learning how to cross from one
side to the other.
Deaton is sitting in Noah’s lap, Ari right beside them, the three of them
taking up the entire bridge. They’ve been sitting there for twenty minutes
now, laughing and talking to Deaton, pointing out the fish below. Deaton’s
eyes are glued to the water, and when I look to the side, I find Mason’s are
glued on him.
A small smile curves his lips, and he just…stares.
“Hey,” I whisper, and slowly, his head turns my way. “Penny for your
thoughts?”
 The sharp angles of his face are soft in this moment, and he adjusts his
chair so it’s facing mine, then bends forward, yanking mine closer.
He reaches out, tugging on one of my braids, and takes my hand. “You
can have them for free.” He holds my gaze, promising, “You can have
anything you want from me.”
Can I have your future?
The thought is so sudden I jolt, and Mason catches it, his eyes piercing
mine as he searches for the source.
“Mase,” I whisper, glancing at the others and back. “What are we
doing?”
Mason swallows, his thumb rubbing circles over mine. “Whatever you
want.”
“But what do you want?”
“You. Him.” His answer is instant. Sure.
Absolute.
It’s as exhilarating as it is alarming. How could he be so certain?
“You’re so young⁠—”
“Older than you, Pretty Little.”
“You know what I mean,” I murmur, my heart rate doubling. “This is
my life. I made choices that led me here, and I understand my
responsibilities. I welcome them now, but you…” I trail off, Mason’s head
shaking as if to deny or refute my words, but they’re true.
I am a mother.
I have a son.
He is my life, and every decision I make will be with him in mind.
Those decisions won’t always be easy, and sometimes, they’ll be sacrificial,
but I am prepared for that. It’s my reality.
It’s not his.
It doesn’t have to be his.
“You can walk away anytime you want, you know,” I manage to say.
“You have no obligation here.”
“Stop.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He frowns, pulling away and pushing to his feet, but only so
he can come closer and tug me to mine. His hand comes around me,
cupping the back of my neck, and he holds my gaze to his. “My father told
me once a man worthy of the woman he wants lives and functions one way
and one way only. It made no sense to me before, and I kind of thought he
was crazy, but I get it now. He said when I knew, I’d be selfish.”
An unexpected laugh leaves me. “That is…not the philosophical line I
was expecting. I was waiting for something earth-shatteringly profound.”
“My dad is more about action than words.” He grins but quickly grows
somber once more. “But it’s true, Pretty Little. I feel it. When it comes to
you, to both of you, I am selfish. I want all your time. All your tears. All
your smiles. I want all of you, always, and I don’t want to share. I’m a good
five seconds from going over there and killing my sister’s mood ’cause I
want to show Little D the fish and the ducks, and I want to hold his little
hands while he pretends like he’s walking on his own across the bridge.
Because I’m selfish. Because I know what I want.” His eyes hold mine, his
thumb running along my cheek. “I want you. Any way you’ll let me.
Always.”
Before I can respond or break down in tears, as I’m pretty sure they’re
coming, Ari and Noah rejoin us.
The conversation quickly shifts, and for the rest of the afternoon, I find
all I’m waiting for is when the three of us can go up to our room, grab our
things, and head back to the Avix campus to spend the last few hours we
have together locked away in Mason’s room.
My lips curve as I peek over at Mason, Deaton now locked in his lap.
I guess he’s not the only one feeling a little selfish.
The moment the thought enters, a second, sobering one follows.
I’m not allowed to be selfish.
I have a child to think about.
His future to consider.
To be the best mom I can, to protect him from another potential loss, I
can’t be selfish.
I have to be selfless.

I t ’ s a little after ten when I finally move D eaton into the playpen .
I kept him on the bed as long as I could, trying to make sense of the million
thoughts and concerns and worries working their way through my mind.
 My nerves are wound tight, my hands wringing together as I step back
around the small divider Mason put up that separates the living room space
from the bed, and there he is, as in tune with me as ever.
Mason sits on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped, a dejected
expression on his handsome face as he meets my gaze with a small, forced
smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Come here, Pretty Little,” he whispers, holding a hand out and
widening his legs so I can slip between them.
I do, the position one of the few that brings us nearly eye level, mine
just a few inches above his. His hand comes up, and as gently as ever, he
tugs on my braids, a soft smile on his lips. “I love your hair like this.”
I love how he loves all the things about me that my mother hated, even
a simple hairstyle.
“I know,” I whisper.
He swallows, moving the loose hair from my eyes. “Talk to me.”
Taking a deep breath, I find the strength to start at the most important
yet confusing concern consuming my mind.
“I miss Deaton,” I say, meeting his soulful brown eyes.
The moment the words leave me, the rest comes rolling in, a sense of
understanding sparking deep in the recess of my mind, making the dread I
had over this conversation suddenly shift into confidence, because this must
be said.
“I love him, Mason. As in still, and maybe that’s because he died as
mine or because he gave me that little boy, or maybe it’s because I’m just
meant to love him forever. I don’t know, and I don’t care to. It’s just what
is.”
He nods, eyes still glued to mine. “I understand.”
I nod back, a little more hesitant with my next words but speaking them
clearly.
“When I look at my son, I see his dad. I see him in his smile and his
curly hair. The way he touches his face when he’s tired and how he sleeps
with his hands under his pillows. All these little things, they make me think
of him.” I swallow. “Even though he’s not here, even though I only get to
see or speak to him in my dreams, he’s still here, and it’s my job to make
sure that doesn’t change. I want Deaton to know who he got his name from.
He deserves to be remembered, especially in his son’s eyes.”
 Mason’s features tighten, but still he nods. “You’re afraid having me
around will take away from that.”
“I know it will,” I whisper, and Mason’s face falls.
“Payton—”
I hold my hands up. “Please, let me finish.”
Mason’s mouth clamps closed, unease creating creases along his
temples. I want to reach up and wipe it away, but I don’t.
I keep going. “I know it will, because yes, when I look at him now, I see
the boy I lost, but when I think about his future?” I whisper. “All I see is
you.”
Mason’s eyes spark with hope, his hands shooting out to grip my hips
like a lifeline, like I tossed him overboard and, just before he went under,
threw him a rope.
My lips quiver, and I reach to take his face in my palms. “I see you,
Mase. When he takes his first steps. On the first day of school and at his
first wrestling meet. On the sidelines at his first football game and in the
passenger seat, teaching him how to drive.” My voice breaks, and I lift my
shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I don’t know how it happened or when, but
it’s the truth.”
“Baby…” He trails off, swallowing, waiting to see what might come
next, too afraid, too aware to let the line he’s holding on to go.
“I’m scared,” I admit. “What I feel for you, it’s…different. Too much,
maybe, and I”—my voice cracks—“I have a little boy to think about. As
much as I want to be selfish, as much as I want to run headfirst and see
where this leads, I can’t.”
Mason’s brows are pulled taut, his eyes clouding over as he stares at me,
fighting to keep control, but I can see it. I feel it in the shake of his hands on
my hips. “What are you saying to me right now, Pretty Little?”
The tears fall, and his face crumples with them. “I don’t think I can do
this.”
He shudders, chin falling to his chest.
“Not yet.”
Mason’s head snaps up at that, eyes narrowing as he pushes to his feet,
backing me up and caging me in. He swallows, hands planting at the sides
of my head, eyes locked on the tears rolling over my cheeks before coming
up to mine. “Yet,” he rasps, his voice thick with desperation. “Yet?”
 “I know you said you’re ready for this, but this… We jumped without
looking. Fell into this routine so fast that I forgot to stop and think. To
consider where you are in life and where I am. Deaton has already lost who
was supposed to be the most important man in his life. Now he has you, but
we can’t pretend things aren’t complicated. You come see me or I come
here, and we forget about everything else, but when Monday rolls around,
you’ll be sitting in a college classroom, and I’ll be nursing a baby boy on a
couch on the coast. You’re finishing your first year of college, and I just got
my GED. You have your whole life.”
“Please stop saying that. It’s not fair.” His dark eyes pierce mine. “I
know what I want, and I want you two to be my whole life.”
My lungs deflate.
Jesus. This is torture.
My smile is sad. “Maybe that’s what you want now, but that could
change. You could want kids of your own one day, and then Deaton will
be⁠—”
“I won’t,” he swears. “He will only ever feel how I see him, and how I
see him is as mine. I won’t give him reason to question that. Never. I want
to be what he lost because I love him. I want to be the most important man
in his life, and I can do that without overshadowing the man who was
supposed to be.”
“This is what I mean,” I whisper. “You are so ready to go all in, and I
love that, but I can’t. I have to protect him just in case. I know it’s not fair,
but I have so much to learn about being a good parent. This is me trying to
do that.”
“I need him, Payton.”
“I’m not taking him from you. You can see him and talk to him
whenever you want. It’s just…” Reaching up, I press my palms into his
chest. “Mase, you need to do what you came here to do. Play football, enjoy
college, and then maybe later⁠—”
“You’ve said ‘yet’ and ‘later,’ but you haven’t said what those words
mean for us.” He scowls, but there’s tension he tries to fight, a thread of
promise threatening to unravel. “Are you saying no to us, or are you asking
me to wait?”
I swallow. “I could never ask you to wait.”
He presses into me, his knuckle under my chin, eyes narrowed. “But do
you want me to wait? If it were up to you, if you held all the cards in your
hand, what would you want me to do?”
“Mason.”
“Answer me, Pretty Little,” he demands. “No what-ifs, no maybes or
maybe nots. You can’t be selfish, but if you could, if you were, would you
ask me to wait? Would you want me to wait?” His voice lowers, breaking
with his words. “Would you want me at all?”
There’s a crack behind my ribs, an invisible cord desperately fighting
for a way to reach for him, begging to tie us together, to lock itself so deep
inside him nothing and no one could ever tear it out.
“Mase.”
“Answer me,” he breathes.
“Yes.”
Mason needs no other explanation, that one word like liquid, heated
hope, filling him to the brim and driving him forward. His lips crash against
mine in a kiss so desperate, I feel the tethers tie him tighter to my soul.
He kisses me like a man possessed. Obsessed.
And I think he is.
He takes my mouth with a fiery passion so intense it’s like I’m on the
outside looking in, the feeling so out of body and intoxicating, I can’t
breathe. My entire body tingles, my knees giving out. Mason is right there
to catch me, wrapping me in his strong, capable arms and caging me closer.
“You have no idea what you mean to me.” Mason’s forehead presses
into mine. “I’m going to wait, Pretty Little.”
“It might take a long time.”
“I don’t care. I’m telling you right now, I could never want anyone the
way I want you. This. I can wait. I will wait.”
I give a wobbly smile. “I would like that.”
A shuddered breath escapes him, visible tension leaving his body at my
confession.
“Will you tell me?” he whispers. “When you know you’re ready, when
you even think you might be, will you tell me?”
“You’ll be the first know.”
He holds my eyes captive, a sharp fierceness I’ve never seen before.
“You said things won’t change for me and D. I’ll still see you and him.
We’ll still talk. You’re saying when you’re ready, I’ll be the first to know.”
I nod.
 “I need you to promise me.” I think I see moisture brim in his brown
eyes, but he hides his face in my neck. “Promise me, Payton.”
“I promise.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

MASON

N ow , N ovember

“Y ou have too much weight on your front foot .”

Alister scoffs, holding his stance as he fires off the ball, and all I can
think is this is a huge waste of my time. I should be studying, getting my
ass back on track so I have something to offer, yet here I am. Trying to
teach a punk who refuses to learn.
Alister glances back with a smirk, but I shake my head, mimic his
position, and send one. After that, I look him in the eye as I move through
the motions a second time but with proper form.
“Back leg takes eighty percent of the weight. When I shift,” I begin,
rotating my hips and pushing off the back leg, “the weight transfers to my
front leg, opening up my hips and putting more power behind the ball.” I
pull back, releasing using the breakdown I just gave, and his jaw clenches
as he watches the ball fly, the radar set up on the ten-yard line not necessary
to see the difference in power.
“Not everyone has to do things the way you do, asshole.”
“It’s not how I do things. It’s the right way or the wrong way.”
 “Because you’re so damn perfect.”
Spinning, I glare at the dickhead. “You want to get better or not?”
“I’m only here because Coach said I had to be. I made this fucking team
on my own, and I don’t need your help to stay on it.”
“No, what you need to do is figure out what it means to be on a team.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He gets in my face.
I just shake my head at him. “You’re unaware, and you don’t fucking
listen.”
“I’m unaware,” he deadpans, rearing back and shouting in my face.
“I’m unaware? You have no fucking idea how rich that is coming from
you!”
He shoves me with his chest, and I shove his ass right back.
“What’s your problem, man? You’ve been on my ass since day one, and
I’m getting tired of it.”
“Serves you right after what you did!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I shout. “I don’t even know you,
and I didn’t get on your ass until after you got on mine.”
“Yeah, ’cause you’re so damn good. Perfect little playboy, huh? You’re
just a punk fucking with vulnerable girls. Soon as that pretty thing with the
baby sees you for who you really are, she’s gonna run so fucking fast⁠—”
I headbutt his ass, refusing to put my career in any more jeopardy,
especially over this punk, and I’d be lying if I said the harsh crunch of his
nose against my forehead wasn’t just as satisfying as a fist to his face would
be.
His head snaps back, blood sprays, and he stumbles, but I keep at him,
yanking him by the collar and dragging him to his feet.
“I warned you once. Do not talk, look, or even think about her!”
Alister spits blood in my face. “I’m going to tell her to take her kid and
run as far as she can⁠—”
“That is my kid!” I scream.
Alister goes stone still, his eyes widening.
I’m shaking I’m so mad. “He is my son, and you will stay the fuck away
from them both, or so help me, Howl, I will break your arms and then your
legs, and then everything you’re trying to gain here goes out the window.”
“You’re an even bigger prick than I realized.” Alister swallows, tearing
away from me with a tense expression that makes no sense to me. But then
he jerks his chin. “Better run after your girl, Johnson. Seems something you
said pissed her off.”
My brows pull, and I look to the left. Sure enough, Payton is whipping
the stroller around, practically running back into the tunnels from the track.
“Payton!” I shout, breaking out into a run, but the door swings shut in
my face. I heave through it, following her into one of the conference rooms.
“Wait!”
She rushes to the back corner, fumbling with the knob, and I know this
one locks from the other side.
“I went to see him!” The words fly from my mouth like a desperate
plea.
It works.
She pauses, the knob in her hand, stroller half out the door.
Swallowing, I take slow steps forward and repeat, “I went to see him.” I
watch as her shoulders tighten. “Spent some time at his grave.”
She whips around, tears thick but not yet falling.
“How dare you,” she breathes, a storm building in her blue eyes. She
pulls the stroller back into the room, letting the door close as she advances
on me, her voice low. “You had no right.”
“I did. I do,” I tell her, and her chin wobbles. “You haven’t been there,
have you?” I ask softly. “I told you where he was laid to rest months ago,
and you haven’t gone. Why?”
“You don’t know that,” she rasps, arms stiff at her sides.
“But I do.” Another step closer. “If you had, you would have left your
mark, because that’s what you do, but there was nothing. Why haven’t you
gone?”
“That’s none of your business,” she whispers.
“I think it is. I’m part of the reason, aren’t I?” I take another step toward
her. “You feel guilty for wanting to be with me, and you know you can’t lie
to him like you lie to yourself.”
“I am not lying to myself.”
“You’re torturing yourself.”
She swallows, hands fisting. “Why did you tell Alister that Deaton was
your son?”
“Changing the subject doesn’t help us.”
Stubborn as ever, she raises her chin. “Answer me, Mason! Why did
you tell him he was yours?”
 “Because he is!” I scream back.
Payton shakes her head, spinning around and moving back toward the
stroller. “I can’t do this. I thought I was ready to have this conversation, but
I’m not.”
Before she reaches him, I dive forward, jumping in front of her and
blocking her path.
“Please move.”
“I can’t. Not until you hear me out.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I don’t care.”
“Mason, please.”
“I understand the boy you lost is inside you,” I say hurriedly. “I
understand he’s a part of you.”
“You don’t.” She squeezes her eye closed. “You can’t possibly.”
“I do, Payton. That little boy over there means more to me than anyone
in the whole fucking world, and he is him. He is his dad, just like you said
before. But he can be me, too.” I’m all but pleading now. “I want him to be,
so what else can I do? Tell me, and I’ll do it. Anything. Everything. But you
are pushing me away when you promised not to. Overnight, everything
changed, and I don’t understand. Help me, please. Talk to me, because I’m
at a loss here. I told you I’d wait. I want to wait. Five months, five years, I
don’t care.”
“I do!” She throws her arms out. “I do, and I changed my mind. I don’t
want you. Don’t you get it?” She swipes at her tears angrily, her glare heavy
and pointed at me. “Have I not made that obvious enough yet?”
“No, you haven’t.” Her false bravado falls in a blink. “I know you.
Better than anyone.”
She looks to the ceiling, trying not to cry. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.” I’m right in front of her now, and when her gaze moves
back to mine, it’s laced with longing she won’t give in to. “Me and you?” I
push on. “We were inevitable. This was meant to happen. Written in the
fucking stars way back in time if you want to be cliché about it.”
“It couldn’t have been.” She denies my words, but hers hold little
conviction. “I could lose you just the same, and then what?”
My brows snap together at that, those words not ones I’ve heard from
her before now. “But we were, and you won’t.”
“You don’t know that. Anything can happen.”
 My heart pounds in my chest, and I take a step closer. “As sad as that
might make you, as hard as the reality might be, it’s the truth. I feel it in my
bones. You and Little D were meant to be mine, and whether you give me
you or not, I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.”
“Don’t say things you have no control over.”
Is that why she’s doing this? She’s afraid to lose me so she just let me
go?
“Payton,” I whisper, hearing the ache in my own damn voice, but none
of it’s for me. It’s for her and the desperation in her battered blues, her fear
staring back at me. “I might not be able to dictate the world around us.” I
swallow, trying to make her understand. “But I have control over my own
actions, and while I might have lost sight of some of my goals lately, I’m
figuring it out now, but you’re still priority number one. So hear me when I
repeat myself. I am not going anywhere. I’m here either way, because I love
that little boy with every part of me. Maybe more than I love you, and I do,
Payton.” She buries her face in her hands, but I keep on. “I love you.” I
reach for her. “I fucking love you, Pretty Little, but I don’t know what to do
anymore. I want you. Hell, I’ll take a tiny piece if you’ll give it to me.”
“Stop.”
“I’m dead serious. I can’t compete with a ghost, so I won’t,” I promise.
“He can keep your heart for all eternity. Just let me hold you for all of
mine.”
Payton breaks into a sob but quickly turns it into a growl. She tears
away from me with an angry shove that has me stumbling.
“Don’t you get it?” she screams, her hands burying themselves in her
hair. “You’re not competing!” she wails, then collapses, forcing me to catch
her just before her knees hit the ground.
Big blue eyes meet mine, and her palm presses to her stomach as if
speaking the words is causing her physical pain.
“You’re not competing,” she seethes, tears rolling rapidly down her
beautiful face. “There is no competition, Mason. There’s no competition,
and that is the problem.”

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

PAYTON

B efore , M ay

H is callused hands wrap around my torso , tugging me closer , and I go

with a smile. All I can think is I want to stay here forever, wrapped in his
warmth, in the strength of his arms and the heat of his body, wrapped with
mine.
But I know it won’t last.
Soon, I’ll wake, and he’ll leave me like he always does.
“Deaton?” I whisper, flipping to face him, but the room is too dark.
And he never whispers back…
A touch so featherlight it sends tingles through my body, creating a trail
of warmth along its path. They start at my shoulder, continuing down my
arm at the slowest, most tender of paces. I wait for the feeling to return, for
his touch to trail back up and start over again, but it never comes.
With an effort I don’t want to think too much about, I force my eyes to
open, startled in the best way by the contentment in the ones staring back at
me.
 “It’s a little after seven,” Mason finally whispers. “Noah will be here to
pick you guys up soon.”
Scooting a little closer, I clasp his hand in mine.
His gaze moves between my eyes, the smile that curves his lips sending
a sliver of pain through my chest. Not because it’s tense or forced but the
opposite. It’s real, raw. It’s promising and accepting, and because of this,
it’s a bit startling.
My thoughts must show, because Mason’s eyes soften, and he reaches
up, running his hand through the tangle of my hair, gently tucking it behind
my ear.
“Pretty Little, there’s nothing to be sad about.”
“You’re being so good about this.”
“I only had hope before, wishing one day you could really be mine, but
now I know you will be. Maybe not tomorrow or the next, but one day.”
Trying not to cry, I press my lips to his wrist just as his phone chimes
behind him.
“That’s him.” He rolls over, picking up the phone and frowning at the
screen. “He’s on his way from Ari’s dorm.”
I push up, accepting the sweater he passes me, and tug it over my body,
slipping into a pair of sweats. “I should have gotten up sooner so Deaton
doesn’t have to get in his car seat right after waking.”
“He’s been up for a little over an hour now.”
My head snaps up, and Mason shrugs.
“I wanted to play with him for a bit before you had to go.”
My insides melt, and I nod. “How much did he eat?”
“Little over half the big jar, but I didn’t give him a bottle yet. Figured
maybe that would help him fall asleep again on the drive.”
“That’s perfect.”
Mason turns away. “I’ll…um…get him buckled in his seat and take the
playpen down to the porch.”
“K” I whisper, and with every step, I remind myself this is right. I need
to do this.
As I move through the motions of the morning, I do my best not to
think. I focus on my toothbrush and the taste of the mint toothpaste. I note
the bristles of the hair brush with each swipe through the crazy curls my
braids left behind. I count the seconds it takes me to slip my socks and
shoes on, and when I walk into the living space, Mason is on his butt in
front of the car seat playing peekaboo, and the sadness I was expecting
doesn’t come. Instead, gratitude is what winds through me.
Silently, we make our way outside. Only once we’re alone on the porch,
the rest of the house still asleep this early on a Sunday morning, does
Mason allow me to take the car seat from his hand.
I don’t want him to walk us to the car. It will feel too final.
“You can still change your mind, you know. I won’t be upset.”
“Oh no?” He tries to tease.
I shake my head. “You’re a handsome man in college.”
“Don’t forget the quarterback part,” he whispers.
A low chuckle leaves me, and we stare at each other for a long, heavy
moment.
“You’ll text me when you get home?” he asks, and I hate the hesitance
in his tone, but I understand it.
“I will.”
“And I’ll see you when I come to Oceanside next week?”
“Of course,” I breathe.
Finally, Mason sighs. When he steps forward, his right hand gently
brushes along Deaton’s curls while his left cups my neck, drawing my
forehead to his.
“I love you, Pretty Little.”
All the air whooshes from my lungs.
“I will wait forever for just the chance you’ll love me back.”
Mason pulls away, turning before I can look up into his big brown eyes,
and I’m stuck, standing there on the porch as I watch the man I never saw
coming go.
I can’t move.
I can hardly breathe.
I stumble slightly, lowering the car seat to the ground and thrusting my
hand out to catch myself on the wall.
My lungs burn, my throat is clogged, and I desperately seek the air they
refuse, but it doesn’t come.
A hand presses to my back, and I jolt.
“Close your eyes,” Noah says calmly. “Close your eyes, and count to
ten. Come on.”
My chin wobbles, and my body shakes, but I do as he says, and the fog
clears when I get to eight for the second time. Opening my eyes, I look into
Noah’s.
There’s an understanding there, a softness as he nods, grabs my elbow,
and lifts the car seat from the ground. “You don’t want to stand here like
this. If I know what he’s thinking and how he’s feeling right now, he’s only
seconds from coming back out this door. And if not him, someone else
will.”
“He told me he loves me.”
Noah smiles softly, gently urging me to move. “I heard. That’s how I
know we don’t have a lot of time. I don’t know what’s going on, but I do
know you have to decide if you want to wait for him to come back or if you
want to be gone when he does.”
I don’t want to be gone when he does.
I have to be.
I allow Noah to lead me to the curb, and we climb inside.
Just before we take the right turn off the street, my eyes flick to the
mirror, and sure enough, there he is, standing at the edge of the driveway.
When the car turns, tearing him from my sight, it’s like a crack in the
earth’s surface, a thundering boom that jolts deep in my chest, and I
suddenly regret everything I said last night. I want to take it all back.
That’s what he does to me, though. He makes me forget everything I’ve
lost, because with him in my life, I’ve gained so much more.
Why would I ask for time?
I don’t need time.
No, that’s not right. I do need it, but I need more of it with him, not
without. “I think we should go back.” I turn toward Noah.
Noah looks over at me, a sorrowful expression on his face, as if he
knows what I’m going through. He understands the overwhelming emotions
that come with love and loss and everything else both bring. He lost
everything, too, hit rock bottom before he found a way to start the climb
back up.
Noah pulls to the curb, speaking softly. “We have a little wiggle room,
so long as we’re on the road in the next half hour.”
“That’s perfect. I need…just five more minutes.”
Just five more minutes.
That would only make you want five more.
My entire body locks tight, my vision blurring as a weight like I’ve
never known falls over me.
 My mind reels as I search for the memory those words live in, but it’s
not a memory, at least not a real one.
They’re from my dream.
My dream of Deaton.
I grip the door handle, my knees bouncing.
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.
Deep brown eyes and soft dark hair.
Strong hands and callused fingers.
I close my eyes and concentrate.
And there it is.
There he is.
Mason’s handsome face, right there across from me. Beside me.
Above me.
My body starts to shake, months’ worth of dreams assaulting me, one
after another.
“You should have seen the sunset…”
“I did.”
“He is so going to be one of those beach boys when he grows up.”
“I look forward to seeing that.”
“He’s you, Payton, and maybe he’ll be a bit of me one day, too.”
“Why are you so far?”
“I’m right here, baby.”
A choked cry escapes, and I slap my hand over my mouth.
It’s him.
It’s…Mason.
He’s been the man in my dreams, not Deaton.
But for how long? When did I lose him?
Tears fall in steady streams, rolling down my cheeks in quick succession
as a cold, hard hate creeps through my veins.
How could I?
“Payton?” A soft hand brushes my arm, and I jump, remembering where
I am.
With panic in my eyes and guilt so goddamn heavy I might pass out, I
meet Noah’s gaze.
“What do you need from me?” he gently asks, a knowing look in his
eye.
“Drive,” I manage to choke out. “Please, drive.”
 Noah says not a word, but the vehicle shifts into motion, and my mind
spins with each turn of the wheels.
I don’t know how I missed it.
I should have known, should have seen it coming, but I didn’t.
I was blindsided, now smacked into reality with the hardest, rawest of
truths I ignored but can no longer deny. It’s a reality so painful, I’d swear
my heart was literally bleeding if I didn’t know any better.
The love I hold for the boy who is no longer here…is but a spark to the
flame of the man who is.
And that’s the ugly truth right there. That’s where the fear takes root.
The death of Deaton left a hole in my heart, but that hole has been
filled.
It overflows now, liquid warmth pouring through my every vein and
covering me in a blanket of belonging I’ve never experienced before.
It’s completely and utterly terrifying in an entirely new way.
Because what happens if that blanket is ripped from my back and I’m
left exposed and colder than ever?
What happens to my innocent baby boy if I fall to my knees, and this
time I can’t get back up, because that is exactly what will happen. There
isn’t a doubt in my mind. If faced with the loss of Mason Johnson, I will
shatter into a million tiny pieces, never to be put back together again.
Losing him would be my undoing, the final blow to my already battered
being.
He put me back together, but if he was gone, no one could repair the
damage that would cause.
He’s everything I didn’t know I needed and more than I ever thought I’d
have, so again…
What happens to me, to my little boy, if the cold cruel world were to
take him from me?
If he himself decided to go?
I can’t allow myself to find out.
I have to protect myself, and there’s only one way to do that.
Mason’s beautiful face slips to the forefront of my mind, and I sob
silently.
I have to break my promise.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

PAYTON

N ow , N ovember

I run . M y feet pound against the pavement , and I’ ve never been

more appreciative of the expensive stroller my brother splurged on. Tears
fog my vision, and my calves burn, but I keep running until my legs begin
to shake, veering toward the grass when they do.
I drop onto all fours, Deaton still fast asleep in the carrier, and let my
head hang. Guilt and regret weigh me down as if a bag of boulders has been
released on me.
Guilt for all the things I feel and all the things I don’t.
Regret for all the things I’ve done and all the things I haven’t done.
It’s a confusing, twisted state of mind I can’t get out of. I feel like I’m in
a lose-lose situation, every answer as right as it is wrong. It’s frustrating,
but most of all, it’s downright draining.
I’m exhausted battling against the girl in the mirror, and sometimes I
forget why. Why am I doing this to myself?
Not just yourself…
 The damn tears threaten to come rolling back, but I push against the
overwhelming sense of failure trying to take control, searching for a bit of
the steel I built around myself before my world fell apart.
When I lived with my mom, I promised myself I would never allow this
to happen to me.
No one would get in my head, and I would be stronger than she wanted
me to be. Stronger than she was. I thought I accomplished that by running
away from home, if you can even call it that.
I ran, and then my entire world fell apart.
That pressure on my shoulders seeps lower, coiling around my ribs and
compressing.
I squeeze my eyes closed, inhaling through my nose and out my mouth.
I count to ten like Noah taught me. Slowly, the pounding at my temples and
the pressure in my lungs eases.
Laughter catches my attention, and I look over.
A group of six or seven students sit on a large blanket, textbooks and
laptops strung all around them with an ice chest in the middle.
They smile and study…because this is their lives. Their school.
“What am I doing here?” I whisper, shaking my head as I force myself
to stand. “I don’t belong here.” Wrapping my hands around the handle of
the stroller, I begin the long walk back to the other side of campus.
An hour and a half later, I’m standing inside the studio apartment I was
assigned thanks to the contract with Embers Elite. With shaky hands, I pull
my phone from the little compartment on the stroller and dial the only
person who will understand.
He answers on the first ring, and I close my eyes.
“Chase,” I whisper. “I need you.”

T here ’ s a knock on the door not fifteen minutes later , and the
moment Chase meets my gaze, his face falls.
He steps in, wrapping me in a hug, and the stupid waterworks come
rushing back. My arms close around him, but it’s only a moment before he
pulls back, a frown on his face as he stares over my shoulder before slowly
bringing his green eyes to mine.
 “Payton…” He shakes his head. “You can’t run from this.”
“I have to. I have to get out of here.”
“But you’re on a new contract.”
“I haven’t signed, and I’m not going to.” The mere thought is
devastating, the opportunity I never saw coming. It was almost as if the
bumpy path had finally smoothed out, as if fate finally found its point of
connection and wove it all together.
But fate isn’t real.
Taking his hand, I beg him to understand. “You said if I ever needed an
escape, you’d be there.” I plead, “I need you right now. I need that escape,
Chase.”
His eyes move between mine, and he swallows, a pained expression
tightening his features. He looks to the floor with a nod. “I know what you
need,” he says, a sad smile on his face as he reaches back, clasping my
suitcase in one hand and the folded stroller in the other. “Come on, Princess
Payton. Let’s go.”
My shoulders fall in relief, and the feeling doubles when we’re finally
pulling out onto the main road.
I close my eyes, doing all I can not to think, pretending every bit of
distance isn’t tearing at that invisible link to the man I’m leaving behind.
Again.
A few minutes later, the car rolls to a stop, but it’s not until the engine is
killed that I open my eyes. Confused, I look forward to find we’re parked
behind a random car, and when I glance his way, I realize where we are.
The football house.
Mason’s house.
My face falls, and I grip my seat belt for dear life. “Chase, what are we
doing?”
His smile is solemn, and he shakes his head. “You can’t go, Payton.”
“I have to.”
“You can’t. If it were just you, I…I don’t know, maybe I would take you
back, but it’s not. You can’t do this to him, and I don’t believe you really
want to.”
A knot forms in my throat, but I manage to rasp around it, “I need to
leave.”
“And he needs you,” he whispers, reaching out to take my hand.
“Please, Payton.”
 My features grow taut, and I let him, admitting, “I’m scared.”
“I know, but so is he. I’ve never seen him like this. He loves you, both
of you. You have to know this.”
I clench my teeth to keep them from chattering and close my eyes.
Screaming has them flying right open.
Both our heads yank to the left just in time to see a girl with blond hair
run down the steps of the porch, Alister right behind her, shouting at the top
of his lungs.
Tears stream down her cheeks, and the door flies open again, Mason and
Brady rushing out.
Alister whips around, his posture stiff with rage, and the girl starts to
cry harder.
Chase and I look at each other, jumping out at the same time and taking
a few steps up the sidewalk in time to hear Mason say, “I don’t know what
happened here, but you need to break it up or take it somewhere else.”
“You wanna know what happened?” Alister rushes forward, screaming,
“You fucked my girlfriend and got her pregnant!”
The air whooshes from my lungs on a gasp, and dark brown eyes snap
over, locking on to mine.

Mason

“W hy the fuck are you here ? Y ou came to see him ? T o throw this
shit in my face even more?”
I hear the fucker screaming with my door closed. Brady and I look at
each other, then shoot to our feet, our textbooks falling to the floor with a
thud, and we hustle down the stairs.
“So much for cramming for that exam uninterrupted,” I grumble. “This
fucking dude, I swear.”
Brady chuckles behind me. “How much do you love this whole ‘captain
keeps them in check’ role, bro?”
I flip him off over my shoulder, the heaviness of the day too fucking
much.
 I don’t have time to deal with this asshole’s shit anymore today. He
already pushed me once and got the best of me in front of Payton.
And then she ran from me.
She told me there was no competition, and then she ran away.
A deep ache takes root in my chest, but I push it aside, coming around
the corner with a hard expression.
“Drama stays outside!” I snap.
Two heads whip my way, and a small frown builds when I get a look at
the girl.
“Allana?”
Her eyes go wide with panic, face wet with tears as she looks from
Alister to me and back.
“Are you okay?” I step toward her. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
She opens her mouth at the same time that Alister’s mocking laugh fills
the space. “This is fucking hilarious coming from you!”
“I can’t do this,” she squeaks, running out the door.
Alister shoves me on his way by, and the screaming continues.
“Don’t run, Allana! Face it! Make him face it. This is bullshit, and you
two deserve what comes of this! He already has a kid, you know that?”
She cries harder.
“Fuck’s this all about?” Brady frowns.
Sighing, I shake my head, and the two of us follow them to the front.
“I don’t know what happened here, but you need to break it up or take it
somewhere else.”
“You wanna know what happened?” Alister growls, tearing at his hair as
he spins, glare pointed my way. “You fucked my girlfriend and got her
pregnant!”
Alarm slams into me, and as if the universe hasn’t tortured me enough
lately, my eyes lift, locking on to a pair of watery blues.
Payton.
Her face falls right before me, and automatically, I take a step toward
her, but then Alister is right there.
He cocks his fist back, and all I have time to do is prepare for the blow.
My head whips back with force, but I keep my feet, head snapping right
back and frown heavy. There’s warm liquid at the corner of my lip, but I
don’t brush it away.
I look to Allana, and Alister screams.
 “You two are fucking sick!” His eyes come to mine. “Does your girl
know you have another kid? That she and the kid you have together don’t
mean shit to you because⁠—”
My fist is cocked back, but before I can throw my punch, Chase’s fist
whooshes past my face, slamming right into the side of Alister’s jaw.
He stumbles, and Chase takes advantage of that, shoving him to the
ground. “Shut the fuck up! You don’t know shit about shit.” Chase looks to
Allana with a frown. “I’m sorry, but you need to start talking.”
Instantly, the girl crumples, burying her face in her hands.
My shoulders fall, and for a moment, fear sparks low in my gut.
Is this real?
Is it even possible?
My eyes find Payton’s, her hands pressed firmly against her chest.
“Allana…” Brady encourages, though there’s an unmistakable demand
to his tone.
“I lied,” Allana cries, and relief flows through me.
I look at Payton, and she offers a tight smile, but her eyes fall to the
ground. I frown, but my attention moves back to the shit show in front of
me.
“I lied,” Allana repeats, regret heavy in her features as she faces Alister.
“You said you accepted your offer to Berkeley, so I had to say something to
keep you away so you wouldn’t find out. And then you showed up here.”
“To surprise you!” he screams. “I picked this fucking school, where I’m
second fucking string, gave up my chance to start, for you!”
My brows shoot up, and I meet Brady’s eyes. Damn. That’s…rough.
“I didn’t ask you to!” she wails.
“No, you just pretended we were good and started fucking your way
through your freshman year!”
“Okay.” Chase lifts his hands, looking between the two. “Allana, you
should go.”
“And you can’t come back here,” I add. “At least not unless he asks you
to.”
I meet Alister’s gaze a moment, and he winces, looking away, but when
his eyes move for the door, widening, mine follow.
Cameron of all people steps out, her hair a mess and eyes half-open as if
she just woke up from a nap.
 She frowns at all of us, her attention settling on Brady. “What’s going
on?”
Alister takes a step toward her. “Cameron⁠—”
“Alister’s been fucking with Mason all season ’cause his ex-girlfriend
lied and said Mason was her kid’s dad.”
Shock, then confusion pulls at her features, and she looks at Alister.
“That’s why you’ve been asking about Mason…” She trails off.
Wait, what?
“You said you wanted to learn how to juggle fatherhood and football.
You used me.” She shakes her head.
My brows shoot up.
Alister takes a step toward her.
“You really want to back the fuck up,” Brady tells him, calm as ever,
but I can see the strain in his muscles.
Alister stares at her with a torn expression, but Cameron shuffles a step
back, taking the shelter Brady offers when he puts himself between them.
Quietly, Allana gets up and leaves, and I take a second to process all this
shit.
It all makes sense now.
Why Alister always pushed it with me. Why he freaked out and acted a
fool when he saw me talking to Allana that day. Why he used Payton to
mess with me and the comments he made. I almost feel bad for the guy.
Giving up an offer for a starting position can’t be easy, but he did that. He
gave it up because he lived in the love he felt.
My eyes move to Payton’s, and my ribs constrict.
She knows I’d give anything for her, doesn’t she?
I’d leave all this, sweep sand for a living if it meant I got to go home to
her at the end of every night.
Wait. I frown, looking at Chase.
He gives a rueful smile, stepping in closer so as not to air my laundry to
everyone. “She wanted me to take her home.” But instead, he brought her to
me.
I swallow, battling against my own thoughts.
She wants to leave in an attempt to escape us, but she can’t. No matter
what she does and no matter where she goes, she won’t be able to run far
enough.
She’ll see that.
 I know she will.
I face my friend. “Take her.”
His face falls. “Mase, no. You’re falling apart, man. If she leaves…” He
shakes his head.
“Take her, my man,” I rasp. “I can’t leave. Two of my professors are
letting me make up some work, and I have a test to retake. I have to get it
done, so just…take her. Whatever she needs, be that. Do that.”
He glares, studying me, but after a moment, his features settle, and he
looks her way, the two of us watching as she climbs back inside his truck.
“She loves you, doesn’t she?” he asks.
“Completely.” I sigh, looking at him. “Take her. She knows what she
needs to do.”
He’s unsure but nods and starts walking off.
“And, Chase?”
He glances over his shoulder.
“Ice that thing, will you?”
Chase chuckles, looking down at his knuckles. He shrugs, a grin pulling
at his lips. “Couldn’t have my quarterback getting injured.”
I nod. He nods.
And I watch them drive away, hoping to hell letting her go today isn’t
something I’ll regret tomorrow, but if I know her like I think I do, this is far
from the end.
I’d even argue it’s the opposite.
But only time will tell.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

PAYTON

N ow , N ovember

T he night my son was born , I dreamed of the boy I created him

with. We were so happy, holding our newborn baby boy and imagining all
the times ahead. We talked about which of us he’d be most like and who we
thought he’d resemble as the years went by. We went over everything for
hours, and when I woke, it was with a sense of peace that maybe not all was
lost.
Deaton might be gone, but he was still there in my dreams, and in my
dreams, I could hold on to him. I could tell him about his little boy and how
magnificent he was. I could share all I wanted to share, and he would be
right there, eager to listen.
In my dreams, he could live on forever.
And then Mason came into the picture, my picture. Somewhere along
the way, we went from strangers to friends to more. Guilt wanted me to
hold on to the past, but my subconscious was already looking toward the
future.
 The moment I fell for Mason, the fragile figments of my imagination
finally shattered, the pieces carried away by the winter wind, scattering the
metaphorical ashes of the boy who taught me how to love. The boy who
showed me so much of it, the black hole I felt I lived in finally shone a little
brighter.
He was my light, and when I realized what had happened in his wake, I
felt like I covered him in darkness. Dirtied his memory by daring to
endanger it because the truth was hard to face, because the truth is…
If Deaton was the light, then Mason is the sun.
He’s a life-changing constant, a forever presence of warmth and growth.
And how could I possibly survive without the center of my personal
solar system?
The simple answer: I couldn’t.
The minute I left Mason standing in the grass, the look of utter
devastation drawn across his face, I knew what I needed to do, the
possibility of what Alister had been led to believe having shocked some
sense into me. It shouldn’t have taken the thought of Mason with another
woman to do so, but here we are.
I realize now that while I was so busy trying to protect myself from the
possibility of losing Mason, something I know I would never survive, I was
the one making it a reality.
The world didn’t take him from me.
I took him from myself, breaking us both, and that’s a weight I’ll have
to carry.
I let fear drive me forward, and in turn, I shoved him back when I
should have held on, allowing him to hold me up the way he’d been asking
to.
No more, Mase.
It took me two days to work things out, to get ahold of Sarah and Ian,
Nate’s parents, to help with Deaton and another to convince them not to tell
my dad I was en route. He means well, but that’s a whole other issue I just
don’t have the energy or headspace to unpack right now. I guess I’m a little
less forgiving of how he let my mother keep me away now that I have a
child of my own.
You don’t walk away. You walk through the damn fire to get to your
baby.
 But again, that relationship isn’t something I have the energy to think
about. My childhood already played a big enough role in the headspace I
live in. The last thing I want is to take a step backward when I’ve finally
found the strength to hit the incline.
Maybe if he didn’t leave me after loving me, I wouldn’t be so afraid of
it happening to my son.
Then again, maybe not.
Maybe leaving is human nature or simply a stage of life.
Plain and simple? People leave.
They love you and they leave you, with or without their own consent.
Deaton didn’t choose to leave me…but he also did.
He left California that day before we could talk, because he didn’t want
to deal with his parents’ wrath had he not. I understand that. It just so
happened I chose the opposite.
I ran from my mother, and I refused to go back.
He didn’t, and then he died.
I don’t know what that means, and maybe it means nothing at all, but
it’s the ugly truth behind the ache. I knew he wasn’t leaving me, but if I said
I don’t sometimes blame him for everything, I’d be lying. And it took me a
very long time to realize this. It’s not fair, especially since I’m the reason he
came to California in the first place. It’s just what is.
I was just as mad as I was sad, and I hated that. Guilt was—no, guilt is
like a second skin in my life, and I don’t want to wear it anymore. I want to
break free and just…be.
But breaking free means breaking open all the boxes and facing what
I’ve fought against.
The real versus the fake.
The then versus the now.
If there’s one thing I’ve realized in the last few weeks, it’s that I’m not
helping my son by holding back.
I’m hurting us both.
I’m hurting all of us, and I don’t want to hurt anymore.
I thought pushing Mason away was an act of self-preservation, a way of
protecting myself from further loss, but in reality, I caused more
unnecessary damage. The worst part is my actions didn’t only affect me but
Mason as well, a fact I’ll forever be forced to face.
 I could have cost him his dream because I was too afraid to face the fact
that he had become the man in mine.
No more hiding, Payton. No more holding back.
Taking one last steady breath, I push the door open.
I step from the car, each rise and fall of my foot heavier than the last
until there are no more to take.
The first thing I see when I lift my eyes is his name, carved into the
stone. The second is the small picture placed beneath it. It’s our little boy,
smiling wide with dimples identical to his dad’s. The tears come hard and
fast, and I fall to my knees, burying my face in my hands.
“I’m so sorry, Deaton,” I cry. “I’m sorry you’re gone and that I haven’t
come. I’m sorry I took off in the first place, and I’m sorry you died not
knowing if our baby was going to be raised by strangers or by his mom. I’m
sorry for being part of the reason you were on the road that day at all and…
damn it.” I swallow, taking a moment to gather myself. “I don’t have
anything good to say,” I admit in a whisper. “All I can think about are all
the things I need to apologize for. Unfortunately, the list feels never-ending,
and most of it I’m not so sure you’ll want to hear, but I…think I have to tell
you anyway.”
I look to the sky, his headstone far too agonizing to address.
“I stopped talking to you after I stopped dreaming about you. I didn’t
know what to say. How could I whisper words I wanted you to hear when
another man’s face replaced yours in my mind? But I did try to get you
back, I promise. I looked at photos and read old letters and messages. I
replayed so many days, and I did it for weeks, right before I went to sleep,
and still…my dreams would come, and the new set of brown eyes stared
back at me. I didn’t know how to stop it, and I thought maybe if I quit him,
he would go away and you would come back.”
I press my fingers to my mouth, pinching the skin there. “But there was
no quitting him, and it only got worse after that. It didn’t take long for me to
realize why. I…” I squeeze my eyes closed, unable to face this head-on but
forcing the words from my lips. “I’d already lost you, Deaton, but I hadn’t
lost him yet. He was still here, and I was hanging on with all I had. That
meant the place I thought I saved just for you became his, and I didn’t even
know it was happening until it already had. I was sick with guilt and scared
to death because I knew there was no way I could go through that again.”
Not with him.
 “So I kept reaching for you, holding on to your memory in fear not only
of losing it but of losing myself if my world fell apart all over again. I
hardly made it through after you died, Deaton, and even though things have
changed, you have to know how much I missed you.”
Gasping, I look up, pressing my palms to his name and dropping my
head against it.
“I can’t believe your body is under here. It’s so crazy you’re really
gone. Like gone, gone. Forever.” My shoulders shake, my sobs
uncontrollable. “I don’t want you to hate me. Please don’t hate me. I didn’t
mean to fall in love with him. I didn’t mean to let you go.”
Curling in a ball, I lie before his headstone, one hand pressed to the day
he left me and the other clutching the photo of the little guy he gave me
before he went.
The tears don’t stop, the guilt doesn’t lessen, but the pain…it slowly
fades.
We’re together, even if we’re worlds apart.

“P ayton .”
My lips twitch, his voice one of my favorite sounds to hear.
“Payton, look at me.”
Slowly, my eyes open, and I smile instantly.
“Hi.” He smiles back.
“Hi.”
“It’s been a while.”
I nod, reaching out, and a sob breaks free when I can feel him. The
smoothness of his cheeks, the softness of his hands when they lock around
mine. “You’re here.”
“I’m wherever you need me to be.”
“But you weren’t,” I argue. “Deaton, you were gone, and I needed
you.”
“No,” he whispers softly. “You needed him.”
An avalanche of emotion falls over me, burying me in grief. “I’m so
sorry,” I say.
 Deaton smiles, that easy, gentle smile he was known for, and then he
shocks me when he says, “I’m not.”
“Deaton…” My heart stops, his name but a stuttered breath.
“My son, our son, deserves someone else to love him like you do, and if
it can’t be me, it has to be him.”
“How can you be okay with that?”
“Payton,” he murmurs, holding my gaze with his steady, unwavering
one. “No one will love that little boy more than us, and Mason? He is part
of us now.”
“If that’s true, that means your little boy will grow up and call someone
else daddy.”
“Not someone else.” Deaton’s thumb grazes along my cheek. “Him.”
“That’s not fair to you.”
He takes the picture in my hand, lifting it between us. He doesn’t speak
until my eyes fall to meet my baby boy’s. “I helped make him. He helped
bring him into this world.” My gaze comes back to his. “That seems pretty
equal to me.”
I break down again, sobbing and falling into him, wishing I could feel
the warmth of his arms around me.
“Don’t cry,” he whispers. “I’m okay here. In your memory. Just think of
me sometimes, and I’ll never be gone.”
“Don’t go.”
“It’s time to wake up now. He’s scared. And he needs you.”
His support is unwavering, and finally, I nod.
“Goodbye, Payton…”
My eyes flick open, and I gasp, pushing my torso off the grass.
I look to the headstone, to the photo of Deaton on the grass beside me,
and then something calls my eyes to the curb, just in time to see Chase’s
truck rolling to a stop.
I push onto my knees in confusion, but the door opens a moment later,
and Mason steps out.
I collapse all over again, a complete and total wreck, but something
drags me to my feet. It’s strong and unfamiliar. It carries me across the
grass, and it doesn’t stop until I’m falling forward.
Mason catches me with open arms, twining them so tight around me, I
know this is it. That there’s no escaping, no running, no pushing.
 The cables have connected, the metal has melted, the fractured pieces
fusing together and shaping anew.
“Shh,” he soothes. “It’s okay, Pretty Little. You’re okay. This is my
fault.”
I try to shake my head, but I’m pressed too tight against him.
“I didn’t mean to push you or guilt you into coming here. I should have
left you to come here when you were ready.” He pulls me impossibly
tighter. “I just keep fucking up, and I need to sit back⁠—”
“I love you.”
Mason’s body turns to stone.
Ever so slowly, he lifts his head, and when our eyes lock, it’s like the
world tilts on its axis. The mountains shift, and the skies open up, and when
the sun does quite literally break through the November clouds, as if only
shining on us, the barest hint of wind pressing at my back, pushing me to
him, I know it’s right.
That Deaton is here with us, telling me it’s okay. That this is okay.
“Baby…” His mouth moves as if to speak the words, but no actual
sound comes out as he waits as though wondering if he conjured them up in
his head.
So I say them again, louder, my every focus on him and him alone.
“I love you, Mason. More than I knew I was capable of. More than I
knew was possible. And more than I was ready for, but I’m…I’m ready
now.”
Mason shakes against me, his hands coming up and gripping my face,
holding my eyes on his.
“I’m yours, Mason.”
“Mine?” he dares in a broken whisper. “You’re standing here, in this
place of all places, and telling me that you’re mine?”
I nod.
“You understand what that means, don’t you?” His eyes are piercing. “If
you’re mine, he’s mine, too.”
My lips quiver, and I nod again.
“Payton.” He shakes, swallowing hard as moisture builds in his brown
eyes. “I need to know you understand what that means. I need to know even
if you change your mind one day, and I’ll do everything in my power to
make sure you won’t, but if you do…I need to know he’ll still be mine. I
can’t lose him, Payton. I will not lose that little boy.”
 “I understand.” My voice trembles with the truth. “He’s just as much
yours as he is mine.”
Mason clenches his jaw, giving a jerky nod. “He is. He’s mine, too.”
I cry, wrapping my arms around his neck, and Mason buries his face in
mine.
I don’t know how long we stand there, but when a car door opens, we
pull apart, just in time to watch as Chase lifts Deaton from his car seat.
My hand shoots to my mouth to hold the sob in, and Mason takes my
other, giving me a gentle squeeze.
“We picked him up from Aunt Sarah on the way here,” he whispers. “I
hope that’s okay.”
I nod, gaze glued on Deaton. His tiny shoes hit the grass, and like the
pro he’s quickly become, he breaks into a wobbly run. Relief and
resignation have my throat clogging as he marches this way, not stopping
until his arms are locking around Mason’s leg.
A scratchy chuckle escapes Mason, and he bends, lifting Deaton into his
arms, and when Mason comes to his full height, both my boys look at me.
With a deep breath, I step closer, smiling at my son. “Hey, little man.
There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Mason’s eyes are soft as they peer down at me. “You don’t have to do
so much in one day, you know. We can come back another time.”
“I know,” I whisper. “But I want to.”
The pride that stares back at me is enough to drive me forward.
Together, the three of us pile around the small space dedicated to Deaton
Vermont, the boy who left us too soon but blessed our lives before his was
taken. We sit in silence, words not needed.
A little while later, Deaton pushes to his feet, and I watch as he walks
over to the headstone, having no clue what it is. Still, when his little palm
reaches out to touch it, something has him stretching out his other one until
his fingers are pressed to Mason’s shoulder.
With one hand on the headstone, the other on Mason, my little boy
brings his eyes to mine. He smiles, that big, toothy grin I live for, and
suddenly, the pressure that’s lived in my chest, the guilt that held me down
for the better part of a year…it disappears.
Vanishes.
All that’s left is clarity.
 It’s like suddenly the world makes sense, like I’ve evolved in the span
of a blink.
I know now life won’t always be easy, and obstacles will always place
themselves in our way, but we can work through them.
We can overcome anything if we can get past this, so long as we do it
together.
When I look up, I find Mason staring, and he pulls his phone from his
pocket with an uneasy expression. “Can I show you something?” he
whispers.
I nod, and he pulls up an old social media profile picture of Deaton.
A frown builds along my brow, but I wait, watching as he tugs Deaton
into his lap and places the phone in front of his face.
“Hey, big guy,” he whispers. “Who is that?”
Deaton just slaps the screen a few times, and Mason looks up with a
sheepish smile, then back down, bouncing him on his knee as he points at
the screen again. “Who is that, Little D?”
Deaton smiles, and then he says, “Da, da, da, da.”
My mouth falls open, a choppy laugh escaping. “Wha…” I trail off.
Deaton looks up, starting right at Mason, one finger stuck inside his
mouth as he grins around it. “Da, da, da.”
Mason’s head snaps up in panic. “He’s not calling me that. I just taught
him the word and⁠—”
“He is.” I cut him off, and Mason swallows, eyes moving between mine.
“He knows, Mase. He knows who you are to him.”
“Baby.” His jaw clenches tight.
“Deaton is his father.” My eyes cloud with tears. “But you’re the only
dad he’s ever known.”
Mason reaches out, tethering our hands together. “We’ll make sure he
knows him, too.”
I nod, because I know we will.
We’ll figure out everything.
As a family.
Me, Mase, and our son.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

PAYTON

N ow , N ovember

W e left the cemetery just before dark , and while S arah had
originally asked if I’d come back for dinner, I had to call and let her down.
The day was too heavy, and I just want to be with my boys. Chase ended up
taking Sarah’s offer to sleep in Nate’s old room, but Mason booked us a
room at the little hotel a couple of blocks away.
It’s a little after nine now, and we’re just stepping into the hotel room,
Deaton in my arms and the playpen in Mason’s.
He makes quick work of setting it up, laying the last blanket across the
bottom as I approach, and I gently lay Deaton down.
He twists instantly, curling up into a little ball, and Mason eases his
favorite blanket over him.
Smiling, I turn toward my bag, but Mason’s palm presses to my hip.
He pushes until I’m facing him completely, and then he shuffles closer,
forcing me backward, and he doesn’t stop until my back hits the wall, his
fingers locking tight against my skin.
My mouth opens, but he shakes his head.
 “No,” he whispers, his tone husky, his focus on my mouth, so I snap it
closed, and his twitches in the corner. “That’s right, Pretty Little,” he rasps,
his thumb stretching under my chin and tipping my neck up and to the side.
“I’m calling all the shots tonight.” He dips forward, and I shiver when he
runs his nose up my neck. “I’ve waited so fucking long to have you in my
hands.” His palm slides along my ribs, past my hips until he’s squeezing my
ass in his strong hand. He groans, and my chest inflates with a sharp inhale.
“And I’ll be damned if I don’t take time now that you are.” His teeth meet
my jaw, and I grip his shoulders. “I’m gonna fix you a bubble bath, baby.”
His head lifts, and he kisses me hard on the lips, hissing as he tears away,
his forehead pressing to mine. “And you’re not getting out until you’ve
come at least twice.”
He shoves off the wall, disappearing around the corner, and I’m left a
panting, melting mess.
I drop my head against the wall, my body coming to life at his words,
graphic images flashing through my mind and making me shake with
anticipation.
“Payton.”
I jump, my smile breaking free as I follow after him, stepping around
the corner and watching as he takes special care, testing the water of the
giant, egg-shaped tub. It’s a double spout, so it begins to fill quickly. Mason
tears open a small package and dumps the contents into the steamy water.
Instantly, hints of lavender fill the air, and then he squeezes some body
wash in, and I watch as bubbles start to rise to the water’s surface.
He steps back, looking at it for a long moment before spinning to face
me. “It’s not perfect, but it will do for tonight.”
“It’s more than enough,” I whisper.
“It’s not.” He comes closer, his fingers grasping the hem of my sweater.
“I’ll be better prepared next time.”
“I love that there’s a next time.”
“Mmm,” he moans in agreement, lifting my shirt over my head in one
swift move. His eyes hit mine, and he presses into me. “Tonight, I’m going
to love you,” he promises. “Tomorrow, I’m going to ruin you, and the day
after that?” His voice drops ten octaves, and he tugs my lower lip between
his teeth. “Baby, the day after that…I’m going to punish you a little.” He
bites a bit harder, making me gasp, and then he’s swooping in on my chest,
licking across the sweep of my breast as he reaches behind, undoing the
clasp on the first try. “How does that sound, my sweet girl?”
“Yes.” It’s all I can say, but he needs no other words.
Mason slides my bra down my arms, and I tremble when his fingertips
purposefully apply pressure on their descent.
I start to shake, and he pulls back, his eyes finding mine before lowering
to my exposed breast for the first time. He sucks a sharp breath through his
teeth, and my pulse jumps as he lowers to one knee, those dark, decadent
eyes on me as he brings his mouth to my nipple.
I keep my eyes on his, unable to break the spell he has me under, and
when his tongue lashes along my nipple, I cry out.
His pupils blow wide, and he groans, quickly moving to the other side
and pulling back, watching in satisfaction as my nipples turn to sharp beads.
“So fucking perfect,” he rasps, palms gliding lower.
He skims them along my soft stomach, and I wait for the self-conscious
part of me to kick in, but it never comes.
My body isn’t what it was before my pregnancy. It’s thicker now, softer,
but he doesn’t seem to care. Quite the opposite in fact.
He worships my curves, kissing my flesh and biting at my skin as his
fingers slip into the waistband of my leggings. His heated eyes find mine,
and ever so slowly, he tugs them down, tearing them off my body until I’m
standing bare before him.
Seeing him in front of me, on his knees with a fire in his eyes, is almost
too much.
It’s too much yet nowhere near enough, as, like him, I’ve waited for
this, too.
Reaching out, I run my hand through his dark hair, and his eyes drift
closed for a moment, his chest rumbling.
When he opens them again, he holds my gaze hostage, then snaps his
down, lasering in on the most sensitive part of me.
His teeth sink into his lower lip, and his chest heaves. His right hand
glides up my outer thigh, his left swiftly sliding to the inner part of my legs,
and I hold my breath as his textured palms skate higher.
A shiver runs through me, and I tug his hair, making him moan, but my
own follows a moment later when his pointer finger slides between my legs,
right through my heat.
“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs. “And so wet for me.”
 I’m a shaking mess, and slowly, his eyes lift to mine, now nearly black
in color.
His fingers shift, and then he’s at my entrance. He drives up, sliding
inside me, and I gasp, pushing down onto his hand, begging for more.
Deeper.
Mason shakes his head, a devilish smirk on his face as he slowly pulls
his finger out of me.
I whine in protest, words no longer humanly possible, and he chuckles,
all dark and dirty-like.
“Oh, baby girl. Did you think it would be that easy?” he whispers,
raising to his feet and taking my breasts in his hands, kneading them gently
as he flicks his tongue along my lips. “I said you would come at least twice,
but you’ll come when I let you.”
“Jesus.” I squeeze my eyes closed.
His mouth.
What an epic fucking surprise.
“Get in the bath now, baby.”
My eyes open, and I watch as he strips to his briefs, shaking in
anticipation of what’s underneath, but he just climbs over the tub, lowering
into the water, a clear sign he meant what he said. This is all about me, and
he’s making sure of it…even if I wish he wouldn’t.
My disappointment must show, because Mason lies back in the steamy
water, his hands running seductively down his chest until he’s gripping
himself over his briefs. “Come here, Payton. You know the deal.”
A quake shakes my spine, and I nod. “Twice and then…”
“And then,” he rumbles, closing his eyes a moment as he strokes
himself. “Hurry, baby. I’m so fucking hard for you.”
I step up to the tub, and Mason raises his free arm, so I slip my hand
into his, easing into the water. He spins me, lowering me so my head can lie
on his chest.
He grinds up into me, and I moan, pressing back. “Feel that, Pretty
Little? Feel how hard my cock is?”
“Yes.”
“It’s all for you.”
“Yes.”
His fingers glide along my arms, lifting and wrapping them around his
neck from behind. His teeth sink into my forearm, and then his hands are
sliding down my stomach. “I’m going to fuck you with my fingers, Pretty
Little. First one, then another, and if you’re good, I’ll stretch you with a
third.”
My toes curl, and I clamp my teeth closed, heated desperation filling my
every pore. “Mase. Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please.”
“Say it. Tell me what you want me to do to you. Tell me what you
need.”
“I…” My chest flames. “I want to come.”
He growls in my ear, and then his finger is pushing into me, his other
hand tugging at my nipple.
My hips buck instantly, my body eager for anything he’ll give it.
A second fingers pushes in, and I cry out, shaking when he takes my
hands and places them over my own breasts.
“Play, baby,” he murmurs, and then his other hand joins the first
between my legs.
His fingers pump rhythmically slow and perfectly in sync with the way
he rubs my clit. Before I know what I’m doing, my palms are squeezing my
own breasts.
I squeeze hard, and then my knuckles glide along my nipples. I moan,
so I try something else, twisting them, gently at first, but when the sensation
mixed with Mason’s work between my legs sends sparks of heat down my
spine, I do it harder, tugging, and my body quakes.
“Did my girl find something new she likes?” He kisses my neck.
“Y-yes.”
“Do you want to come now?”
“Please.”
“Okay, baby.” He shifts. Another finger presses into me, and at the same
time, he pinches my clit, hard, and heat erupts, bursting and spilling through
me.
“Mason,” I moan, my body thrashing in the water.
His name from my lips has him groaning into my ear. He bites down,
and a second wave crashes through me.
He lets me ride it out, his breathing heavy in my ear, a tempting,
tortuous sound I want more of. It’s raspy and thick, heady. He’s sure to
leave his lips right there, pressing against my pulse, and when he sucks, I
squirm some more.
He’s so hard beneath me, and if I move just right…
Mason’s arm locks around my stomach, holding me still. “I don’t think
so, baby. I told you. I’m in charge right now, and right now I say it’s all
about you.”
“But it would be for me.”
“No.”
“I want you, Mase,” I beg.
He hums in satisfaction, sitting up higher in the water and taking me
with him. He curls over me, shifting and taking my shin in his hands. His
lips take mine in a slow, methodical movement that has my every muscle
going limp in his arms. It’s like a slow dance of tongues, and I reach for
more when he gently tugs away. “You’ll have me, but I need this first. Can
you give me what I need, baby?”
God, his voice drips with sex, and my thighs are clenching all over
again.
His deep chuckle tells me he knows, and then he’s squirting soap into
his hands, gently messaging my shoulders, his rough fingers drawing across
my collarbone and down to my breasts. He teases my nipples, softly and
then roughly, before abandoning them altogether.
Mason washes every part of me he can reach, kneading my scalp and
rinsing us with a new wave of steaming water.
I’m a moaning mess at his mercy, and he seems to be living for every
second of it, relishing the fact that he’s making me feel so good. “You’re
really good at this.”
“This is just the pregame warm-up.”
A low laugh leaves me, his cocky response just as hot as his dirty
whispers. “So are we warming up for the kickoff?”
“Nah.” He shifts, crawling out from behind me so his big body is now
hovering over me. “We’re headed for the Super Bowl, baby, and watch me
bring it home.”
He slides backward, his biceps bulging as he grips the edge of the tub
near my head, his gaze dropping to my chest.
I lift it higher for him, my eyes locked on his as he skates his lips across
my wet flesh. His teeth come out to play again, scraping along my nipples,
and he smirks up at me as they stand to attention, begging for more.
 “You’re blushing, baby,” he rasps, one hand leaving the tub to grip my
hip with a tender squeeze.
“You love that, don’t you?”
“You bet your ass I do.” He kisses my stomach. “I wonder how many
shades of pink I can get your skin to turn.” Mason lifts my lower half from
the water, sitting back on his knees, and if I was blushing before, I’m a
tomato now.
A shivering freaking tomato.
I’m exposed like never before, and while it’s a little unnerving, it’s
exciting in a whole new way.
His hand travels to the apex of my thighs, but a slight pinch forms at the
edges of his gaze, his awareness and connection to my mind unmatched,
only confirmed when he whispers, “May I?”
I don’t have to ask what he means, so I give him something better than a
yes, something I know he’ll love. I soak in some of the bravery his presence
provides and stretch back a little more, tipping my hips a little higher.
“You’d be the first.”
Before my eyes, his entire demeanor shifts.
His gaze grows tender, the weight of his hand featherlight. His thighs
shake beneath my ass, and when his shoulders lower an inch, I smile up at
him.
“First,” he breathes, his gaze moving over my face before falling
between my legs. His thumb comes up, sliding along my clit, and I buck
into it. Slowly, his lips curve, and the light of a moment ago is smothered.
“I get one of your firsts.”
“You have a lot of my firsts, and you don’t even know it.”
Mason groans, his torso bending as he lowers himself into position. “We
are making a list later, but right now…I’m going to taste you, and you’re
going to come in my mouth.”
He gives no other warning than that, swooping down and swiping his
tongue between my folds, up and over my clit, and then he takes it into his
mouth.
My entire body comes alive as he sucks my clit between his lips, his
tongue doing wild things on the inside, and my thighs are vibrating. A ball
of heat forms in my belly. It’s so hot even my eyes burn, and it only grows,
and with each spiral, it winds my nerves tighter.
 Mason slides a finger inside, curling up into me, and then his teeth are
teasing my clit. He bites, and I gasp. He licks, and I shake.
And when he closes his mouth over me again, I shatter.
My cries are loud and wanton, my body trembling, exploding, and it
doesn’t stop. He keeps sucking, and I keep writhing, and before I know it,
my thighs are clamped around his head, squeezing, my fingers tearing at his
hair, and he growls against me, begging for more.
It goes on forever, and only when I’m nothing but a bag of bones,
unable to keep my head above water, does Mason release me.
A satisfied smirk tilts his glossy lips, and he climbs from the tub, lifting
me into his arms.
He towels me off, brushes my hair, and then he tucks me into the hotel
bed, climbing in beside me. “Sleep, baby. I can promise you, you’re going
to need it.”
I’m out within seconds.

Mason

I sigh , leaning on my elbow and smiling at my two favorite people ,

sitting on the edge of the creek that runs through the back of my aunt and
uncle’s property. It’s too cold to get in this time of year, but that doesn’t
stop Deaton from doing his damnedest to try.
We’ve been in Alrick for two days now, and Payton was finally ready to
step out of the room, not that I was complaining about being locked away
with her. There’s nothing I want more than uninterrupted time with her and
Deaton. God knows I’ve missed too much already, but there’s something
about watching them with my family that’s just as pleasing.
“That’s got to be a record.”
I look over to find Chase smirking from where he’s lying beside me.
“What?”
“You’ve sighed, like, ten times in the last ten minutes.”
Chuckling, I push up onto my ass, hanging my elbows over my knees.
“Guess I’m feeling pretty sappy.” I swallow, admitting, “I was starting to
worry I’d never get here.”
 “You worried for nothing, my man,” he says softly. “There was no way
she could walk away, even if she wanted to. It’s so obvious, I don’t know
how the others didn’t pick up on it a long time ago.”
My lips twitch with a smile, and I look back toward the water, to my
little family, but Chase’s words repeat in my mind, and I look his way.
“When did you know?”
“When I showed up at her place that night and you were already there.”
He looks away. “I had no idea why she was so upset. I assumed she was
having a bad day and needed someone, and I could relate, so I ran home
after practice, got some things together, and headed out. When I first saw
you, I thought she asked you to come, too, and you just beat me there. I was
like, okay, cool, and I didn’t feel so bad about it taking me so long to get
there, and then you took off.” He shakes his head, sitting up and mimicking
my position. “I was confused as hell, but she was crying, so I left it alone.
Later, I learned she didn’t call you at all, and that was right about when she
told me it was the one-year mark since Deaton passed. The second she said
it, I was like, fuck. I wanted to be there for her, but after all we went
through last year, man…” Chase sighs, looking me dead in the eye. “I love
you. You’re my brother, and I just couldn’t, so I took off. It wasn’t until I
was halfway home that I realized I was making another fucking mistake. I
knew you better than that. And pissed off at my presence, angry that she
called me, and confused about why, none of that mattered—you’d have still
wanted me to stay so she wasn’t alone.” He looks away. “I swear, it seems
to be one fuckup after another for me nowadays. Starting to think that’s all I
am.”
“You’re not, man, and you figured it out.” He meets my eyes again,
guilt in his own. “You were there for her when she wouldn’t let me be, and
even though I was a dick about it⁠—”
“Even though you reminded me what your right hook felt like.” He
forces a smirk.
A chuckle leaves me, and I nod. “Even with that, you had her back.”
Gratitude overwhelms me, a knot forming in my throat, and I look away.
“That right there, that’s why you’re my brother.”
His hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing, and I blow out a long exhale.
“I can’t believe I almost fucked up my eligibility and put my
scholarship a risk. I’d never forgive myself if I let you guys down like that.”
I swallow. “Or her. Them.”
 Chase nods, not making excuses but saying, “Yeah, well, at least you
got your head out of your ass before it was too late.”
I chuckle, and this time when his hand reaches out, he gives a little
shove, and my ass flops over. Spinning, I come at him, and we wrestle
around the way we have for years, but I’ve got one up on him now.
“Someone’s got some new moves,” he notices with a laugh, flipping me
and coming down, but I hook him under his knee and around the neck.
“This is a cradle, my boy. Big D’s signature move.”
He laughs, tapping out, and as we flop onto our backs, a blond sheet of
curls falls over my face, and a perfect little man throws himself down on
my chest.
I grunt, laughing as I lift him into the air. Bringing him down, I kiss his
cheek and look up at my girl. “Time to go home?”
She smiles softly at the two of us, and I don’t miss the little blush
crawling past the neckline of her sweater. “Yeah, time to go home.”
We say goodbye to my aunt and uncle, climb in the vehicle, and then
we’re off.

OceanofPDF.com
 CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

PAYTON

A s we take the exit toward campus , M ason lifts my hand for what
must be the fiftieth time in the last few hours, pressing his lips to my
knuckles. I roll my head along the seat, staring at him as I’ve done most of
the trip, and he chuckles, meeting my eyes a moment before facing forward
again.
We drove all day, and I’m exhausted, but I don’t dare fall asleep. I don’t
want to waste a minute of my time with him. It’s clear he feels the same,
and while he couldn’t sleep if he wanted as the driver, he makes sure to
touch me every few minutes with both his eyes and his hands.
Thankfully, when I had my moment a few days ago, I didn’t call my
job, so my room is still mine to come back to at the staff building at Avix U.
My lips tip up as I run my fingers over the small lotus flower Mason
gave me, remembering what he said but also what I read when looked it up
for myself the night he left. Mason and I, we are resilient and strong, and
we did grow from a place of darkness, finding our own light. I like to think
maybe Deaton had a part in this, that maybe his death wasn’t in vain but a
blessing, offering the promise of new beginnings, just like he did in my
dream.
 I close my eyes a moment, then roll my head along the seat to look at
the man beside me. “Hey, Mase.”
“Yeah, baby?” he asks, his voice thick with exhaustion as he pulls into
the parking lot of my building.
He looks over a few times, but I wait until the car is still, the engine
shut off.
“I have something to tell you.”
He leans forward, taking my chin in his hands and sliding his lips across
mine in a perfect tease. “And I want to hear it, but it’s late. Let’s go inside
and get our little man in a real bed.”
“K.” I give in instantly, and I don’t realize my eyes have closed until I
hear his door open.
He takes Deaton from his seat, and we leave everything but the diaper
bag in the car.
Inside, Mason gently lays him down on the bed, and Deaton hardly stirs
as Mason changes him, leaving him in nothing but a diaper and socks.
I drop onto the mattress, watching as Mason strips his shirt from his
head, followed by his jeans. Silently, he climbs into bed, and my heart melts
when he reaches down, lifting Deaton and placing him in the center.
He closes his eyes, his arm gently tucking Deaton into his chest.
Moisture pricks my eyes, and I kick my shoes off, climbing in beside
them.
Mason’s eyes pop open for a split second, but they close just as quickly.
I’m not sure I’ve ever wished I had my camera on me more than I do in
this moment.
Mason falls asleep fast, a ghost of a smile on his lips, and I’m not far
behind.

W arm palms travel up my sides , curving along my shoulders and

gliding back down my arms until long, thick fingers are curling into mine.
My smile is slow, eyes peeling open to find his hovering an inch above my
own, a wolfish gleam within them as my arms are lifted and pinned above
my head, pressed firmly into the plush pillow beneath me.
 “Deaton’s in his bed now, baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with sleep and
dirty promises. “Remember what I said to you?”
“Say it again,” I whisper, sighing when his deep chuckle washes over
my skin.
He shakes his head, dipping and kissing across my collarbone. “That’s
not how this part works. Here, you do what I say, and I reward you for it.”
“That sounds like a really good plan.”
I feel his smile, and my own threatens to break free, but then he sucks,
hard, on my neck, and I’m moaning beneath him.
“Open your legs, baby. Open your legs and let me in.”
My knees fall to the side with zero protest, and he doesn’t hesitate,
settling between them.
I gasp, locking my legs against his naked hips, feeling his heated flesh
against my skin for the first time. I don’t remember him taking his boxers
off, but he must have, and thank fuck for that.
He’s bare and bulging, pressing right where I want him—no, where I
need him.
“I’m ready for you, Pretty Little. Sheathed and fucking aching.” He tugs
my tank down so my breasts are spilling out, bends to suck my nipple into
his mouth, releasing with a resounding pop. “Is my girl ready for me, too?”
I squirm, shifting my hips, and the tip presses inside.
Mason groans, lowering his bottom half and pressing me into the
mattress. I wish he’d crush me with it. “Behave, baby. You’ll have me when
I say you can and not a second sooner.”
He kisses me then, claiming my mouth with a raw intensity I’ve never
felt, and a low whine leaves me.
“So damn responsive. So greedy for my cock.”
I moan in response, chasing his kiss and reveling in the way he makes
me feel alive. My body has never known such need.
Mason’s hand dives between my legs, fingers finding their way inside
me without pause, and my eyes roll back. “Yeah,” he breathes. “You’re
ready for me. So fucking ready.”
Ripples of anticipation rage through me, and my head presses into the
pillow, my eyes locking on his.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve been right here in my dreams.”
He hooks my left leg, drawing it higher. “In my mind, I’ve licked you
everywhere,” he whispers, rubbing along my clit and making me squirm.
“Had you everywhere, on every surface in every room.” He reaches
between us, lining himself up at my entrance, his eyes finding mine.
“Mase…”
“I’ve come on your every curve, and still, every single time, you beg for
more.” A ghost of pressure is all he gives me, and I’m whining now. “You
gonna beg for more, baby?”
His hips slide forward, the head of his dick pressing inside me. My lips
part on a gasp, and his eyes flare, roaming across my features so as not to
miss a thing. He gives me another inch, and I whimper, my nails digging
into his arms.
“Yeah, my greedy girl will beg, won’t she?”
I nod feverishly, grasping at his shoulders and locking my ankles behind
his back.
I’ve never been so hot, so full, and he’s not even halfway in. I squeeze
my eyes closed. “Please, Mase.” My walls are stretched around him so
deliciously, I’m driven to taste him, my tongue sneaking out and licking
across his lips. “Please.”
Mason bites on it, and pleasure explodes in my belly, my core already
pulsing, clenching and unclenching around him, and finally, he shoves
inside.
His eyes snap shut, a pained expression covering his face, and he
moans, long and loud, inspiring my own. “Baby girl.” He groans, slowly
sliding in and out, sending waves of delirium through me. “I want to
memorize your every moan, learn all the little things you like, and discover
new ones.”
“I want that.”
“I know you do.” He thrusts in harder, deeper, and my body jolts
beneath him. “You want me to fuck you every way there is to fuck, and then
you want to invent new ones. Ain’t that right?”
“God, yes.”
“Mmm.” He sits back on his knees, my ass in his hands as he shoves in
and out, in and out. His eyes are locked on my face, my breasts bouncing
between us as he stares down at me with pure hunger. His hands are
everywhere, touching me with such an enticing possessiveness, it makes me
want to claim him right back. I want to own him. Ruin him.
“Harder, Mase.”
 He growls, slides his arms around my back with such gentle care, but
when he hauls me to him, my chest slapping against his naked one, it’s so
rough, almost violently delicious, that my climax is already cresting. I cry
out, clenching around him, but he fixes me with a glare, clamping onto my
hips and forcing me still.
“Don’t you dare,” he whispers his warning. “We come together.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He sweeps his legs out, and our pelvises meet, shoving him
so impossibly deep my head falls back, my body quaking.
With a gentle yet firm grip, he tangles his hand in my hair, lifting my
gaze to his.
His mouth comes down on mine with a crushing kiss, his hips thrusting
up as I grind down, and a thunderstorm of ecstasy cracks through me.
His kiss is raw and urgent. It’s drugging and demanding and soul
shattering.
“I’m going to come now, baby,” he rasps, sucking my tongue into his
mouth.
He thrusts once, twice, and my hips work over him frantically, my arms
locked around his neck, his around my back. And when he jerks inside me, I
cry out into his neck, sucking on the salty skin there and melting at the
shiver that runs through him.
We hold on to each other tightly, hips rolling in slow motion, until the
feeling is gone completely, and only then does he collapse backward, taking
me with him.
He grins, panting with his eyes closed, and I do the same.
A few minutes go by, and he starts laughing, pushing my sweaty hair
from my head, so I lift it and look up at him, a sated smile on my face.
“You look good and fucked,” he rasps.
“I am.”
“Perfect.”
I squeal when suddenly, he has me flipped on my back and he’s
climbing on top of me again.
He hits me with his big megawatt Mason smile and says, “Time for
round two.”
We make it all the way to round four before I jump and run from the
bed, stumbling my way into the shower on wobbly legs with a delicious
soreness that’s sure to last for days.
 Mason hops in with me but keeps his hands to himself, a sated
expression written across his face. I climb out first, throwing our dirty
blankets off the bed and piling on some new ones. I’ve just laid back down,
the morning light shining through the room, when Mason comes back in,
Deaton smiling in his arms.
“There’s your mama.” He kisses his cheek, the both of them climbing
into bed. Mason smiles as Deaton curls up in my arms, playing with my
hair. “I could get used to this,” he says softly, reaching over and running his
hand over Deaton’s tangly curls.
“Waking me between my legs?”
Mason smirks, but there’s no mistaking the tenderness of his gaze.
“That, too, of course, but not what I meant, Pretty Little. You know that,
though.”
“I do,” I whisper. “And you should get used to it.”
Confusion draws a line between his brows, and he opens his legs for
Deaton to climb between.
“The university is expanding the Avix Inquirer. They negotiated a two-
year contract with Embers Elite for a full-time, paid position.” My heart
beats wildly as I gaze into his eyes. “They offered it to me.”
Mason stares, his brown eyes boring into mine as he wraps his left arm
around Deaton, keeping him close to his chest. “What are you saying to me
right now?”
“I’m saying I’m staying instead of preparing to say goodbye. Get used
to saying good morning, because we’ll be here as long as you are.”
Mason swallows, reaching with his free hand and taking mine.
“And after that?” he whispers.
“Where you are is where we want to be.” I give his line back to him
with a smile.
A harsh exhale pushes past his lips as he slides them along my knuckles.
“No matter what?” His hold on Deaton’s back tightens as he tugs me
closer, wrapping us in his warm embrace. “Promise me, baby.”
Reaching up, my palm covers his on Deaton’s back, the other sliding
along his jaw and drawing his face to mine. “Tell him, baby boy.” I peek at
Deaton with a smile. “No matter what. No matter where. With your daddy
is where we want to be.” I meet Mason’s eyes, moisture building in his dark
lashes and matching my own. “We promise. I promise. I love you, Mason,
and I’m never going to run from that again.”
 “Sorry to break it to you, baby, but I wouldn’t let you if you tried.”
“Promise?”
Mason chuckles, but there’s a slight sniffle in there, too, he tries to hide,
and when he presses his mouth to mine, it’s with more than just a promise.
It’s a life debt, a blood pact. It’s a pledge of allegiance from him to me.
From him to us, the fractured family he made whole when he didn’t
have to.
He chose to.
And me?
I choose him.
Forever. Always.
No matter what.

***
Turn the page for a note from the author!

Read Ari and Noah’s story here:

SAY YOU SWEAR

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 NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

Gah! This one was rough for me, guys! It’s a funny thing being an author.
As strange as it sounds, the characters write their own stories and we simply
do our best to tell it just as we “see” it. This one? Man, it was so hard to
write.
For me personally, I have to BE the character in order to make their journey
make sense. By that I mean I have to be in their headspace, feel what they
feel, do what they do. Being such a grief heavy book, it weighed heavily on
me.So much so that some days I had to step back after writing a single
scene. All of this is likely why it took me sooo long to write LOL
BUT ANYWAY!
I hope I did my girl Payton and my favorite man (maybe of all of my heroes
- don’t tell Noah!) Mason justice. I am truly proud of this story and I hope
you loved it as much as I loved telling it.
Is it too early to tell you to get ready for Cameron’s book?
In the meantime, how about some of the other crew members stories to help
you through?

Read Ari and Noah’s book: SAY YOU SWEAR

Read Nate and Lolli’s book: FUMBLED HEARTS
Parker and Kenra’s book: DEFENSELESS HEARTS
 Turn the page to read Chapter one from Fumbled Hearts

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 MEET YOUR NEXT BOOK BOYFRIEND

KALANI
Come out with me tonight, she said. It’ll be fun, she promised.
Yeah…not so much.
I drag myself out of the corner I took cover in, eyeing the American Pie-
like movie scene playing out in front of me. Only, in this version, it’s
ridiculously handsome males and far too sexy females parading around in a
hormone-driven buzz, letting loose at the hands of alcohol. I mean, I get it.
People can never be who or what they want. They can never be honest and
upfront.
Alcohol does one of two things for you in high school: gives you the
courage to tell the truth or the freedom to forget it. So, they party, get drunk,
hook-up, do and say stupid shit, and in the end, they take a page from Jamie
Foxx and “blame it on the alcohol.”
Take, for instance, the Pretty Woman, Julia Roberts lookalike - pre-
makeover, that is - who was just hoisted up onto the countertop by some
tall, dark-haired beast of a guy whose face I can’t see. She’s biting down on
her bottom lip and rubbing her knees together, clearly trying to excite this
guy who, no doubt, only sees a faceless vag.
She spreads her legs and pulls him between them. Instantly, he dips his
lips to her neck and she wraps her legs around his back. They’re three
sheets to the wind and he’s got something she wants.
Yeah, all this is happening mid-party, and no one seems to give two
shits.
Awesome.
In order to get to the other side of the room, I have to weave through the
bodies crammed onto the makeshift dance floor. Brushing body parts
against drunk, horny high school seniors I don’t know doesn’t sound like a
good time, but it appears to be my only way out. So, I dodge a grope here
and an elbow there, and make my way out of the slosh zone, earning only a
few dirty looks along the way.
Petty asses.
When I round the corner into what I’m assuming is the living room, I let
my eyes roam. All the furniture’s been pushed against the tan-colored walls.
A few people are passed out, while others are making out on the sheet-
covered couches, and there’s a beer pong game going on smack dab in the
center.
At least there’s hardwood floors.
I watch as a big burly guy tosses the little white ball, effectively landing
it inside the red cup on the opposite end of the table. Cheers erupt around
the room.
The opposing team grumbles as one of the guys picks up the cup,
downing its contents in seconds. I stand there, watching them play for a
good twenty minutes, only turning to leave when the girls hanging around
start stripping down to help “motivate” the players. Their words, not mine.
 I’m about two feet from the door when my gaze is pulled to the stairs.
A beautiful girl with white-blonde hair descends, looking like a model
on her runway. A large, dark-haired figure over her shoulder catches my
attention and my eyes lift. I can’t quite make out his face from here, but I
can tell he’s smirking and his shirt is hanging from his left hand.
My attention turns back to the girl and, imagine that…suddenly, she
looks a lot less beauteous, and a lot more bimbo. Her modelesque strut now
looks like a runway show for a pro-ho.
And I’m pretty sure that’s bleach-blonde, not beach-blonde.
With a shake of my head, I look away.
I’ve been here for an hour and I’m already labeling these people I know
nothing about.
But honestly, am I labeling or just being observant?
I sigh. No matter how I try and spin it, it’s shitty all around.
Face it, Kalani, you’re being a judgmental bitch.
Once I make it out the front door and into the fresh air, I inhale deeply,
trying to clear my senses. Nothing like leaving a party feeling as if you just
stepped out of an Abercrombie and Fitch store. Cologne and spray tan
overload.
I stand there for a few minutes, looking around, watching as people mill
in and out of the house, then pull out my phone and send a quick text to
Mia, letting her know I’m out.
As usual, she replies almost instantly.
Meems: boo-hoo, bitch. You lasted 5 seconds.
Me: close. Just add 57 minutes to that and you’re right on the dot.
Congratulations!
Meems: thank you. Thank you. I’ll prepare my speech soon, but in the
meantime…be careful on your way home. LUVS!!
I smile at my screen before stuffing it back into my boot and begin the
short walk to my house.
It’s early November, so there’s a nice chill to the air.
I’ve been in Alrick Falls for three weeks to the day. Tonight was the first
time I agreed to go out with Mia and her friends. While it wasn’t a horrible
night, per se, it wasn’t much fun either.
I mean, I like to party and have a good time. Or at least, I used to. But
that party felt more like a brothel house. The guys, all too attractive for their
own good, with their sexy smirks glued in place, were passing out drinks
left and right. No doubt trying to loosen up all the girls - pretty sure most of
‘em were already ‘loose’ - while the girls paraded around in “barely there”
clothing, batting their eyelashes as they knocked back every drink thrown
their way. Maybe that’s how they get what they want, with a little liquid
courage.
There was a time I liked kickin’ back with a group of friends, laughing,
dancing, and singing. But this is a new place, with new people, and I don’t
feel much like participating in their charades. I’d rather eat junk food and
watch movies.
As I’m thinking it, I realize how shitty it sounds.
Maybe that’s my problem. I’m being bitchy and judgmental because this
isn’t my home. Spending my senior year in Alrick was never part of the
plan.
I guess I can try not to be such a buzzkill; have some fun while I’m
here. That way, Mia doesn’t have to explain to her friends why her cousin is
such a “snooty biatch.” Then, after I graduate, I’m out.
Yep. Headed straight for-
My train of thought stops abruptly as I take in the sight before me.
“What the hell…” I mutter as I peer at the fancy jeep-looking thing
stopped in the middle of the dark street.
I wait a beat to see if it starts going again, but it doesn’t. It appears to be
parked in the middle of the road, still running, lights on and everything.
Instead of doing the logical thing a girl should do when she’s alone in
the dark with a creeper car close by - like running - I make a stupid horror
film decision and walk toward the vehicle because, that’s smart.
The closer I get, the better I can see. Not a jeep, but a fancy Hummer. A
sexy, sleek, black one, with all-black rims.
Very presidential.
As I approach, I hear Sublime’s “Wrong Way” blaring. Looking around,
I realize the sound of the music is flowing from the open sunroof.
At five-foot-two, I’m too short to see through the window, so I tap
lightly. “Hey, you alright in there?”
No response.
With a frown, I make my way to the back of the beauty before I freeze.
What the hell am I doing?
This is the exact shit your parents warn you about when they give you
the “don’t talk to strangers” lecture. Only, I’m pretty sure what I’m about to
do borders more on “the dumbest idea ever.”
“Fuck it.” I reach up, grabbing ahold of the spare tire on the back of the
vehicle. Gripping it tight, I push up from the bumper, laughing as I hoist
myself onto the roof.
If the owner catches me doing this…
I crawl on my hands and knees until I’m at the open sunroof. Leaning
over cautiously, I peek inside.
“Oh, shit,” I whisper, taking in the sight before me.
And, oh, what a sight. What. A. Sight.
The driver is slouched in the seat, his head dangling away from me, so I
can’t see his face. His right arm is through a black t-shirt while his left is
bare, the material bunched around his neck, like he never managed to get
the other arm through. I can see half his washboard stomach, and damn...
the boy works out. I let my eyes travel over him, because why not? I’ve
already reached a whole new level of cray.
His hair is thick, short on the sides and longer on the top, the color of
dark chocolate. If the letterman jacket on the passenger seat is any
indication, he’s an athlete. Looks like one, too. All broad shoulders and
strong arms.
Huh. Seems he was in a real hurry. Didn’t even have time to button up
those designer jeans.
Ending my appraisal, I inch my hand in the truck, lightly poke the top of
his head. “Hey, you alive?”
A gargling sound comes from the dark-haired stranger, and his head
falls back. He lets out a breath, causing me to jolt back.
“Ugh…” My nose wrinkles. “Someone was drinking the good stuff.”
Now that I can see his whole face, I realize it’s the playboy from the
stairs. Maybe even the same guy who was playing with the redhead earlier.
He looks like a grown ass man, but since he was at the party, I’m
guessing he’s around my age. He’s handsome though, that’s a given.
Bet he knows it, too.
His eyebrows are dark and thick, with eyelashes to match, and his face
is clean-shaven, with small, perfectly trimmed sideburns. Following the
invisible trail from there, I take note of his strong jawline, sculpted to
perfection, then lift my eyes slightly to find a bottom lip that puffs out a bit
further than the top, a perfect contrast, really.
 A half-hearted sigh escapes me. “Bummer.” Perfection brings ego,
which translates into one thing: asshole.
“Hey, dumbass. You alright?” I ask, frowning.
“Pfft, I’m fine,” he slurs, his chin dropping to his chest.
I roll my eyes. “Sure, you are. I’m coming in.”
He lets out a drunken chuckle. “Usually, it’s me who’s coming when
I’m in.” He laughs harder, one knee lifting slightly, clearly amused by his
own joke.
“Hilarious,” I deadpan. Yep. Guy’s a tool. “Look, you’re drunk. Switch
seats and I’ll drive you home.”
He doesn’t move, so I reach in again and give the guy a little shake.
Nothing.
“Lovely.” Pursing my lips, I consider my options. He’s massive, so
moving him won’t work. I could call the cops, but that feels like a bitch
move, even though it’s his own damn fault for being irresponsible.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” I curse myself under my breath, and
glance at the houses surrounding me. Not wanting to put my boots on the
luxury seats, I use my arms for support and lower myself into the cab until
my knees hit the center console. After adjusting the volume on the stereo, I
peek at the guy before leaning across the driver’s seat. Searching around, I
try to find a lever, but my hand barely reaches the side of the seat.
“Shit.” I perch on my knees and lean all the way over him.
God, if someone drives by right now… it looks like I’m giving some
serious road head.
I stretch, reaching damn near to the floorboard, finally finding a small
lever. Unsure of how it works, I quickly push, slide, and pull. One of them
works, because the driver seat starts to fall back. I quickly let go so I don’t
end up giving the guy whiplash. Or get puked on. That would suck.
The guy laughs and grabs me, pulling me back with him, and a
ridiculously girly squeal escapes me.
My torso is now lying sideways across his chest, ass still semi in the air.
“If you wanna play…” he slurs, rubbing his nose in my hair. “Mmm…
you smell soooo sweet,” he continues to mumble before he’s snoring again.
His voice is low and rough, and ridiculously sexy.
Don’t go there, Kalani. Don’t do it.
Man, I bet this guy gets the pick of the puss.
He’s got game in his sleep.
 I gotta get us out of here.
I wait a minute, making sure he’s out cold, then climb the rest of the
way across, sliding my legs between his. Squeezing my eyes shut, I move at
a snail’s pace, lowering myself down so I’m sitting on his lap. I stay
completely still for a few seconds, just in case…well, I don’t really know.
But it seems like the best idea at the moment.
I’m sitting on his thighs, squished against the steering wheel, so I reach
down trying to find another lever to move the seat backward, but instead I
find a fancy button.
The seat reverses, which causes the back to lift. I gasp when my back
meets his steeled chest. The second I shift my body to get into a more
comfortable position, two large hands fly to my hips, gripping them like a
running back does a football: tight, hard, and close to his body.
My body temperature spikes as I put the vehicle in drive and head down
the road. Only then do I realize I have no idea where I’m going.
The heater -or his heat currently poking my ass- is too much, so I roll
down the window and head to the only place I know.
I pull into my driveway, which was only a minute drive from where I
hopped into the vehicle originally and turn off the truck. As soon as the
vibration of the engine stops, I become hyperaware of the stranger beneath
me.
The strong rhythm of his heart beats against my back as his exposed
skin warms me through my clothes. Deep, hot breaths fan across my neck,
making me slightly light-headed, despite my lack of drinking tonight.
It seems I’m not the only one who feels the shift in the air as the guy is
now running his nose along my shoulder. I really shouldn’t let him do that.
He could be a crazy person. Or worse, a Broncos fan, but it feels so good.
My eyes widen when his dick twitches against my ass, and I scramble
into the passenger seat. Apparently his ‘heat’ wasn’t all the way nuked if
you know what I mean, because that was definitely…more.
I decide I’m going to leave him there, in his seat, to sober up. Then,
come morning, when he feels like Woody Woodpecker is paying him a visit,
he can be on his merry way.
I take the keys out of the ignition and toss them on the passenger side
floor; close enough for a sober person to find, but not a drunken fool. I
allow another look at the guy - he really is adorable - then hop out, careful
not to slam the door.
 After taking a quick shower, I throw on a thong, my Halestorm concert
t-shirt, which has definitely seen better days, and hop in bed. I fall asleep
within minutes; my devil cat, Nauni, beside me.

I roll myself onto my stomach, squeezing the pillow over my head to drown
out the pounding at my door. When it continues for a good minute, I groan,
and throw myself out of bed, ready to ring Mia’s neck. I gave her a key to
avoid this exact situation. I love my sleep. I need my sleep. This is
something she knows.
Scowl in place, I fling the door open. “Where the hell is your ke-” I stop
short.
It’s not Mia. Nope. It’s Mr. Perfection in all his still half-naked glory.
At my door.
And man is he tall. Ginormous compared to me, but not freakishly so.
More like six feet of vagina waking, no K-Y needed temptation. Trouble.
My eyes drop to the jeans stretched nicely over what look to be thick,
strong thighs. Pants still unbuttoned, I skirt past the no-fly zone, and feast
my eyes on his yummy tummy.
Yep. Still rock solid. I continue my appraisal upward until his mouth is
in my line of sight, when I snap back to reality.
There’s that self-satisfied smirk again, the one he was wearing at the
party.
I want to punch it off his perfect face.
My eyes lift to his, and damn it all to hell. They’re a deep dark brown,
almost black in color, and right now his lids are half-closed as he stares at
me.
I watch his eyes as they roam over my body.
I’m fully aware I’m only wearing a very small, very thin t-shirt and
thong. The bottom of my freshly waxed prize is surely peeking out, and my
ass is exposed. I guarantee my nips are hard as rocks from the breeze
sweeping through the door, but I’ll be damned if I allow him to think I give
two shits what he thinks, not with that “I’m the man” look on his face, smug
bastard.
 As soon as his dark eyes meet mine again, he speaks. “You must have
really worn me out.” His voice is deep, and raspy from sleep. “Didn’t even
make it down the drive before I passed out.”
My eyes shoot wide.
At my reaction, he puts his hands up in front of him. “Hey. Don’t go
gettin’ all offended.” He smirks. Again. “That’s a compliment coming from
me.”
This guy...
“Okay. Whoa.” I lift my hands this time. “Just... whoa.” I gape at him.
“You’ve lost your damn mind if you think you-”
“Look,” he cuts me off, a miffed sigh leaving him. “I’m not interested in
hashing things out. You should know the drill.” He drops his gaze to my
hard nipples and, without a doubt, this egotistical asshole assumes it’s my
body’s reaction to him. “I don’t go in for seconds, so you might wanna put
those away.” He motions lazily toward my chest. “You know, so you don’t
embarrass yourself.”
I’m pretty sure my jaw hits the floor. Seriously.
What the fuck?
What. The. Fuck.
“Um, hi. First of all, it’s cold.” I squeeze my boobs. “This has nothing
to do with you. Second, let me break it down for you, Mr. Hugh Hefner-in-
training.” He grins at that. Dumbass. “That,” I point to his groin, “was
nowhere near this,” I say, giving a little WWE “suck it” smack to my
crotch, speaking like I’m addressing a kindergarten class.
His eyebrows pull into a deep frown, and his hands find his hips in a
lazy, thoughtful motion. It’s almost comical how confused he looks.
I release an annoyed sigh, deciding to get this over with. “You,” I push
my index finger into his chest, “were passed out drunk in your truck in the
middle of the road.” I shrug. “Figured I’d do my good deed for the day -
though, now I’m thinking I should have left your ass there – but I drove you
here since I didn’t know where you lived. Thought you would wake up and
take off by morning.” I motion my hand toward him. “Clearly, I’m a
dumbass for that ‘cause here you are.”
He smashes his lips into a tight line, glances at his truck, then back at
me.
“You’re saying you brought me to your house... and we didn’t have
sex?”
 “Yep.”
“Sooo...” He looks pointedly from my naked legs to his open fly. “We
didn’t have sex?”
I stare at him blankly.
Those dark eyes of his narrow before he shakes his head unbelieving.
With a quick glance over his shoulder, he looks back at me with a dark
brow raised. “Guessin’ my phone’s not in your house?”
A laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it because there it is folks,
the reason he had to come to the door.
His eyes narrow further.
“K. I get it now.” I nod. “This isn’t part of the play ‘em to lay ‘em
routine and clearly you have a serious case of selective hearing, that or
you’re way too cocksure for your own good, so let me try this one more
time, maybe a little slower and see how that works?” I mock, not letting
him respond before continuing. “You were Passed. Out. I drove you here so
you didn’t get yourself arrested. End. Of. Story.”
He scowls past me as he scratches the back of his neck. “Huh.” Then,
his head pulls back, as his eyes widen, a look of horror crossing his face.
“Wait,” I think he might hurl, “you drove my Hummer?”
What part of… ahhh. So, the big boy is attached to his toy.
“Sure did.” He looks seriously disturbed, so I add, “Of course, that was
after I climbed up the back in my boots. Then, crawled across the top and
dropped in through the sunroof, heels first.” That’s not a lie. The small heel
of my boots did go in first, with extreme caution, but he doesn’t need to
know that.
“Thank goodness the center console was there for me to step on,” with
my knees, “or I might have fallen.”
And bam. He’s full-on fuming now.
Eyes bulging, jaw tight, chest heaving; he’s officially going to lose his
shit.
I’m not gonna let him.
“Right. So... bye.” I slam the door in his face as fast as I can.
I go back to my room and climb into bed, listening as the Hummer’s
engine roars to life. A few minutes pass before I hear it pull away.
Sleep doesn’t come so easy after that.
____
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