Fallen Crest Family
Page 31
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He said through the closed window, "Come on. I'm not blocked in. I'll give you a ride."
When I got out, he led the way and I had a good view of his backside. Goodness. I forgot how he was just as well sculpted in the back as the front. The only times I looked at his back was when I pressed against him. It was his front side that always held my attention. I blushed as I remembered the reason why I was late for work and at how wanton my behavior had been. I should've been used to it, but when he sauntered to his Escalade with a natural grace that only the best athletes seemed to possess, I knew I never wanted to get used to our times together. I wanted every time to feel like the first.
"What's the hold up? You coming?"
Oh god. I had paused beside his door and was staring at him, lust in my thoughts. My head ducked down as I hurried around to the passenger side. I rolled my eyes. I was like a schoolgirl crushing on the local god. But I was, and he was, and we were together. My shoulders came back up at that thought. When I slipped inside, he gave me a questioning glance but pulled out and veered around the cars in the driveway.
"You good?"
I nodded, biting my lip. His jeans were still not zipped up, but he was only dropping me off. "I won't be done until the bar closes."
"You help out in the bar too?"
"Yeah." I gave him a sheepish look. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, a lot of stuff happened today, but I meant to."
"It's no problem. I'm just surprised."
"Really?" For some reason, I had thought he would've been upset that I got a job. But now as I saw that he didn't care, I relaxed. A small flutter started in the pit of my stomach, but it was a good flutter. I wanted a job; it hadn't been all about avoiding my mother. Correction, I wanted this job. I liked working at Manny's. I liked working with Heather.
He grinned as he glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "Yeah, why? You think I'd be pissed or something?"
I shifted in my seat. "Well…yeah…" But why? That'd been a ludicrous thought, but then I understood. My mom would've been mad. She would've hated the idea, she always did. I slumped even further in my seat. Mason wasn't my mother. He wouldn't want to keep me only to the house or out with the only friends she approved. Lydia and Jessica had gotten Analise's stamp of approval. That ended with disaster. Then a sick feeling came to me, and I looked back over at Mason.
"What's wrong?" His voice was so quiet. He glanced from me to the road, but he could tell.
I took another breath. Could I even say this out loud? "My mom liked Lydia and Jessica. Do you think—" I hesitated. I couldn't say it.
"Do I think…what?"
But I knew I would always wonder. "Do you think she liked them because they were like her? I mean, they were mean and didn't really care about me."
His eyes widened a fraction of an inch, but that was his only reaction. The air seemed tense, though, and my gut twisted. I knew why it had changed as soon as I said those words. It was true, and Mason knew it but didn't know how to say those words to me. I shook my head and looked away. "It doesn't matter. I know what you're going to say."
"No, you don't."
I nodded. Drawing in a painful breath, I leaned my forehead against the window. I'd been so blind. She had made comments. She always knew that Jeff was a cheater—could she recognize it in him because she was one too? Was that why she liked Jessica most of all? Because she was like her? She hadn't liked Lydia as much—was that because Lydia cared the most for me out of all three of them?
It was sick. I didn't want to think about it anymore.
"Hey," Mason spoke. He was cautious.
My shoulders tightened and bunched around me. "I don't want to talk about that. I really don't."
"Well, you need to. You sure you have to work tonight?"
I swung around at his gruff voice. What was he mad about? Even though his eyes weren't on me but on the road, I saw the glimmer of fury there. His jaw clenched and his grip tightened on the steering wheel. I asked, "Are you mad at me?"
"What?" He whipped his gaze to me. Then spat out, "No! I'm mad at that bitch you call your mother. Did she pick your friends for you?"
My stomach dropped. She had.
He saw my answer, and a disgusted sound came from him. "I can't believe her—no, I can. She's controlling and possessive. That's why she never liked the idea of you and me, because she couldn't control me and because she knew I cared about you. You want to know my guess as to why she liked those two for you?"
Did I? No, but I knew I needed to.
He continued as his voice grew savage. "Because she wanted people around you that would hurt you. She wanted them to hurt you because then you'd stay with her. You would never know what else was out there, that there are good people out there. I'm not a saint, I know that, but when I love someone, I love them with everything." A curse ripped from him, and he pulled into Manny's parking lot in a rush of gravel before he braked to a stop. Then he was on my side of the car. His eyes were fierce, but his hands were gentle as they turned me to him. He pressed his forehead against mine. I felt how he was keeping himself in control. He expelled a deep breath. "I want the best for you. I don't want to keep you imprisoned to me. I want you to reach your fullest, find friends who really care about you, get a job that you like. I want you to go to my school and get a track scholarship. I want you to do all of that in spite of your mother, because if she had her way, you'd never go anywhere. She would ruin it."
I closed my eyes. She would. The truth stabbed me in the gut.
His hand cupped the side of my face and lifted me up. He whispered, "Look at me."
A whimper escaped me. His eyes burned with love. The emotion was there, an extra layer to the windows of what he felt. It hurt, but it was the good hurt. Something unlocked inside of me, that was him. I had everything boxed inside, kept away so I wouldn't feel, but with Mason, all I could do was feel. That was because of him, because he loved me. I whispered back, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For loving me." For giving me what my mother should have—unconditional love. That hurt to admit. Another whimper slipped out, but I was lifted into his arms and held against his chest. He rocked me back and forth with his head tucked down. I didn't want to be anywhere else.
When I got out, he led the way and I had a good view of his backside. Goodness. I forgot how he was just as well sculpted in the back as the front. The only times I looked at his back was when I pressed against him. It was his front side that always held my attention. I blushed as I remembered the reason why I was late for work and at how wanton my behavior had been. I should've been used to it, but when he sauntered to his Escalade with a natural grace that only the best athletes seemed to possess, I knew I never wanted to get used to our times together. I wanted every time to feel like the first.
"What's the hold up? You coming?"
Oh god. I had paused beside his door and was staring at him, lust in my thoughts. My head ducked down as I hurried around to the passenger side. I rolled my eyes. I was like a schoolgirl crushing on the local god. But I was, and he was, and we were together. My shoulders came back up at that thought. When I slipped inside, he gave me a questioning glance but pulled out and veered around the cars in the driveway.
"You good?"
I nodded, biting my lip. His jeans were still not zipped up, but he was only dropping me off. "I won't be done until the bar closes."
"You help out in the bar too?"
"Yeah." I gave him a sheepish look. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, a lot of stuff happened today, but I meant to."
"It's no problem. I'm just surprised."
"Really?" For some reason, I had thought he would've been upset that I got a job. But now as I saw that he didn't care, I relaxed. A small flutter started in the pit of my stomach, but it was a good flutter. I wanted a job; it hadn't been all about avoiding my mother. Correction, I wanted this job. I liked working at Manny's. I liked working with Heather.
He grinned as he glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "Yeah, why? You think I'd be pissed or something?"
I shifted in my seat. "Well…yeah…" But why? That'd been a ludicrous thought, but then I understood. My mom would've been mad. She would've hated the idea, she always did. I slumped even further in my seat. Mason wasn't my mother. He wouldn't want to keep me only to the house or out with the only friends she approved. Lydia and Jessica had gotten Analise's stamp of approval. That ended with disaster. Then a sick feeling came to me, and I looked back over at Mason.
"What's wrong?" His voice was so quiet. He glanced from me to the road, but he could tell.
I took another breath. Could I even say this out loud? "My mom liked Lydia and Jessica. Do you think—" I hesitated. I couldn't say it.
"Do I think…what?"
But I knew I would always wonder. "Do you think she liked them because they were like her? I mean, they were mean and didn't really care about me."
His eyes widened a fraction of an inch, but that was his only reaction. The air seemed tense, though, and my gut twisted. I knew why it had changed as soon as I said those words. It was true, and Mason knew it but didn't know how to say those words to me. I shook my head and looked away. "It doesn't matter. I know what you're going to say."
"No, you don't."
I nodded. Drawing in a painful breath, I leaned my forehead against the window. I'd been so blind. She had made comments. She always knew that Jeff was a cheater—could she recognize it in him because she was one too? Was that why she liked Jessica most of all? Because she was like her? She hadn't liked Lydia as much—was that because Lydia cared the most for me out of all three of them?
It was sick. I didn't want to think about it anymore.
"Hey," Mason spoke. He was cautious.
My shoulders tightened and bunched around me. "I don't want to talk about that. I really don't."
"Well, you need to. You sure you have to work tonight?"
I swung around at his gruff voice. What was he mad about? Even though his eyes weren't on me but on the road, I saw the glimmer of fury there. His jaw clenched and his grip tightened on the steering wheel. I asked, "Are you mad at me?"
"What?" He whipped his gaze to me. Then spat out, "No! I'm mad at that bitch you call your mother. Did she pick your friends for you?"
My stomach dropped. She had.
He saw my answer, and a disgusted sound came from him. "I can't believe her—no, I can. She's controlling and possessive. That's why she never liked the idea of you and me, because she couldn't control me and because she knew I cared about you. You want to know my guess as to why she liked those two for you?"
Did I? No, but I knew I needed to.
He continued as his voice grew savage. "Because she wanted people around you that would hurt you. She wanted them to hurt you because then you'd stay with her. You would never know what else was out there, that there are good people out there. I'm not a saint, I know that, but when I love someone, I love them with everything." A curse ripped from him, and he pulled into Manny's parking lot in a rush of gravel before he braked to a stop. Then he was on my side of the car. His eyes were fierce, but his hands were gentle as they turned me to him. He pressed his forehead against mine. I felt how he was keeping himself in control. He expelled a deep breath. "I want the best for you. I don't want to keep you imprisoned to me. I want you to reach your fullest, find friends who really care about you, get a job that you like. I want you to go to my school and get a track scholarship. I want you to do all of that in spite of your mother, because if she had her way, you'd never go anywhere. She would ruin it."
I closed my eyes. She would. The truth stabbed me in the gut.
His hand cupped the side of my face and lifted me up. He whispered, "Look at me."
A whimper escaped me. His eyes burned with love. The emotion was there, an extra layer to the windows of what he felt. It hurt, but it was the good hurt. Something unlocked inside of me, that was him. I had everything boxed inside, kept away so I wouldn't feel, but with Mason, all I could do was feel. That was because of him, because he loved me. I whispered back, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For loving me." For giving me what my mother should have—unconditional love. That hurt to admit. Another whimper slipped out, but I was lifted into his arms and held against his chest. He rocked me back and forth with his head tucked down. I didn't want to be anywhere else.
