Restraint (Mason Family 1)

One we don’t live in.

“You’ve gotten yourself in deep with all of this Blaire stuff,” Oliver says quietly. “I know it. But you’re going to have to block out Mom and Dad and whatever else and focus. I need you, bud.”

I blow out another breath.

“I know. I’m here. I promise,” I tell him.

He leans against the wall next to me. We stare out the windows and into the front yard. The ferns my mother hangs off the porch every year sway in the breeze.

“You can do both things, you know,” Oliver says.

“What two things?”

“You can work and have a relationship.”

My head hits the drywall.

I can’t have both. I can’t have both for so many reasons.

“She’s going home soon, right?” he asks.

I nod.

“Do you know where you stand with her?” he asks.

“Yeah. She’s going home.”

The words fall flat into the air.

Oliver sighs. “Is she going home because she wants to? Or because you didn’t give her the choice?”

I roll my head to the side and look at my brother. “Are you a relationship expert now?”

“No, but I don’t have my head clouded by Blaire’s pussy either.”

I groan.

He’s right. Of course. And I hate that he’s right this time more than ever.

My head is clouded. I do feel pulled. Two things I hate even more than Ollie being right.

“Listen, I—” I begin, but Oliver’s chuckle stops me. “What?”

“You’re getting ready to talk in a circle and give me a bunch of excuses as to why you can’t do what you want.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m not fucking you when she leaves.” He turns his body so we’re facing head-on. “Because she’s gonna leave you, Holt. Are you ready for that? If you think you’re distracted now, think about what that’s gonna be like.”

My blood boils from the tone of his voice and the words spilling from his mouth.

“She has to leave me.”

“Oh, wise one. Please explain.”

“You know how our lives work,” I tell him. “I need to be in the office for twelve fucking hours a day. Sometimes, fourteen. Fuck, isn’t that why you just pulled me in here? Your first words were that you need me to focus.”

“Yes, but—”

“Then fuck you, Ollie.”

I blow out a breath that’s red-hot. My brother’s features darken as he takes the start of my wrath.

“I have to be ready for her to leave because she’s going to,” I say. “And she should.”

“How can you say that?”

“How can you say anything differently? You don’t know the ins and outs of our relationship.”

“But you’re admitting you have a relationship, right?”

I roll my head around my neck. The bones pop from stress.

He doesn’t understand that being with me will kill her. It will ruin her life. If she thought Jack didn’t have time for her, she’d end up hating me.

I’d rather have her and the sweet memories from this week than have her loathe me in the future. And there’s no way at all that I will risk causing her pain by not being the man she needs—the available, present, considerate one.

Not even if it’s what I want to do.

My chest heaves a breath to keep from cracking apart.

“Look,” Oliver says, “I’m letting you know what I see. And I’ve seen you walk around with this frivolity that’s nice to see. You’ve eased up. You came today without a fight.”

“Because Coy is here.”

Oliver looks unconvinced. “Do you realize you had a ten-minute conversation with Boone last night about Christmas in Aspen?” He grins. “You refuse to discuss the holidays until at least Halloween.”

He’s right. A-fucking-gain. But it doesn’t change anything.

How I feel doesn’t change what I know to be true—I cannot be what Blaire needs. She’s already been let down by one guy who couldn’t be there for her. I don’t want to be the same.

I won’t.

It’s as simple as that.

It’s as frustratingly, heartbreakingly simple as that.

I sigh. “Where do you think I’ll find the time to take care of someone’s emotional needs?”

“She’s not a fucking dog, Holt.”

“No. She’s a human being who needs support and time and energy. She deserves that. And unfortunately for all of us, I don’t have that to spare.”

He sighs, seemingly as frustrated as I am. “I get it. I do. I just … I like what she’s done to you. And she seems like a pretty great girl.”

“Yeah, well, she is.”

He frowns.

Doesn’t he understand that I want to make things work? Doesn’t he realize how hard it’s going to be to watch her pack her things and pull out of my driveway?

Doesn’t he know I’ll think of her every evening when I come home from work and miss the fuck out of her? Doesn’t he know that I’ll never be able to see a horse and carriage and not be reminded of the beautiful woman who gave me a piece of her life?

But that’s all I get. A piece of her life. Because if I ask for more, I’ll ruin her.