Blackbird (Sometimes Never 1.5)

“Set up one of those sessions—the family thing. Give me two weeks notice and I’ll be there. Just me. Not Kellin yet. We’ll take it from there.”

Oh dear Buddha. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. “Okay,” I breathe. “Thanks Gabbie.”

“Don’t thank me yet. This could blow up in all our faces.”

“I know, but I’m trying to be optimistic.”

“I didn’t think you were the type.”

I laugh lightly. “I wasn’t.”

“Mason,” she and I say at the same time.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” she sighs.

“Okay, I’m going to go wake him up so he can talk to you. He misses you both so much.” I open the door to Mason sitting up on the couch, his hands clasped together between his knees. He smiles at me and I hold out the phone.

“Your mom.”

He takes it, holding it to his chest, and grips my wrist with his other hand. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” I say.

“No, Hope,” he utters. His eyes lock on mine and he shakes his head. “Thank you.”

9

Mason

“Have you been using the exercises we talked about?” Wes, my therapist asks me. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He watches me closely, waiting for my answer.

“It’s been a rough week,” I say. “Hope’s back on the moving out kick. She has it in her head it’ll make everything better. With Mom, I mean.”

Wes sits back and scratches his full beard. “What do you think?”

“It doesn’t solve shit. It’s a band aid. And I don’t want her to go.”

“So how have you handled it?”

I sigh. I knew when I sidestepped his question he wasn’t going to let it go. “I lost my temper at work.”

“What happened?” His eyes lock on mine and I smirk at him.

“I got fired.”

He smiles and combs through his beard again. “All right smartass. Back up a few steps. What happened that caused you to lose your temper?”

I look over his shoulder, fixing my gaze on the framed painting of a windmill. I wonder why, out of all the paintings in the world, he chose this one to display in his office. Windmills are useful, rolling with the wind to help provide some service. Lifting water, breaking grain, generating electricity… Maybe that’s why he has it.

To remind us we have a reason—a purpose.

“What’s up with the windmill picture?” I ask, putting off his question. Again.

He pivots in his seat and looks over his shoulder. When he turns back to me, he shrugs. “I like windmills.”

“Why?”

Another shrug. “My dad collected them. I guess it rubbed off on me.” He drops his hands onto his lap, locking his fingers. “Did your dad collect anything?”

I narrow my eyes. Nice fucking try Wes, but I’m not biting. I mirror his posture and mimic his shrug. “This dude was hitting on her.”

“Hope?”

I chuckle. “Yeah.” My foot starts bouncing, sending my knee up and down, and I look down at the floor. “I fucking lost it. It’s not like I thought she was interested, but she keeps saying she should leave. I got this picture in my head… Her moving out and then he was there—that guy, Shane from work—and I couldn’t make it go away.” I laugh. “The panic—not the image.”

“So you panicked. Then what?”

“He’s been talking shit all night, right? And I’ve kept my mouth shut `cause Hope was blowing him off, but then…” I rub my face with both hands, feeling like such an asshole as I look back at it. “She was pulling a pizza out of the ovens and when she bent over, he was staring at her ass.”

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing. I didn’t do shit. I didn’t do a God damn thing about another guy checking out my girlfriend’s ass, Wes. You’d have been proud.” I exhale a harsh laugh. “But then he looked at me and said, ‘Soon as you fuck that up, Macey, I’m all over her.’”

Wes brings his chin up and nods once. “What happened?”

I lock my fingers on top of my head and take a long, deep breath. “I jumped the counter and punched him in the face. Broke his fucking nose.”

“That it? Did you stop?”

There’s no judgment in his voice and it makes it easier to go on. I shake my head. “I had my arm back ready to hit him again and Hope—she stepped in between us. I almost…” I shake my head. I can’t even say it aloud. I almost hit her. I don’t know how I registered her face through the rage, but I did—at the last second, I did.

Wes is quiet and I look at him, waiting. “Why did you hit him?”

“He talked shit.”

“Mason. Why did you hit him? Identify it.”

“He said he was going after Hope.”

Wes blinks. Waits.

I stand up and pace the small room, my hands on my head. “He said I was going to fuck up. But I already have.” I stop and face him. “Losing her is my biggest fear and she wants to leave. I can’t fix it and I can’t stand the idea of any other guy with her.”

“Do you think maybe she wants to move out to make a way for your brother to visit? No other reason?”

“I know that’s the reason, but you don’t know Hope. She is always trying to run away when shit gets hard. If she moves out, I know that’ll be it for us. I know it.”

“You don’t know that. That is your insecurities controlling you.”

I sit down in my chair and smirk at my well meaning, but undoubtedly dumbass therapist. “No, Wes. That’s fact. I don’t give a shit what your training told you. Hope can’t move backwards. She moves out—she’ll pull away from me. She’ll quit therapy. She’ll hurt herself.” I shake my head slowly. “And what she doesn’t get is if she moves out and I lose her, nothing will ever get better with Mom and Kel. I’ll hate my mom for taking away the person I love most.”

With a raised brow, Wes leans back, slouching in his seat. “I know you think that’s true, but even you are sometimes wrong, Mason.”

I laugh at his comment. He’s just as big of a smartass as I am. “It has happened on occasion. I’ll give you that. But I’m right on this.”

He gives me a doubtful look. “I think you underestimate Hope, but I’m not going to argue with you. Tell me, what did she do after the altercation with—what was his name?”

“Shane,” I say flatly. I doubt he forgot his name already. Identify the victim. “She was pissed.”

“And your boss?”

“Furious. He fired me on the spot. Now I’m jobless. Hope isn’t talking to me. She picked up the extra hours, so I’ve barely seen her. My mom’s coming in a few days. We have a group session with Hope’s counselor. Shit’s pretty bad.”

“You’re here. Can’t be that bad.”

I cock a brow and he chuckles. “Well,” he amends, “it could be worse.”

“Silver lining,” I agree.

“So let’s talk about the exercises. Why didn’t you use them?”

“Well, Wes, there’re stupid.”

He presses his lips together to keep from smiling. “They can be very useful. You want to distract your anger, find other ways you can manage without hurting someone.”

“I know, but it’s still dumb as hell. Especially when hitting that guy in the face felt so fucking good.”

“Did it feel good when you almost hit Hope?” he asks, all humor lost.

I glare at him. “No.”

“Use the exercises. Have Hope help you come up with different options.” He winks at me. “Who knows, it could be fun.”

10

Hope

Spring break couldn’t come fast enough. Between the much needed time off school and Kellin coming for his first visit since Halloween, I was happy to say the least.

It only took four visits from Gabbie for her to agree with the weekend visit. Mason made it clear at the very first session that the goal—we’re supposed to set small goals for ourselves in therapy—was to find a way that we could all exist in each other’s lives. In other words, he wanted his mom to let Kellin visit, and he didn’t want me to move out or have to leave the apartment in order for that to happen. Two sessions with Alec, Jenny, Gabbie, Mason, and I, and nothing had changed. So Veronica suggested we try Gabbie and Mason alone, followed by me and Gabbie. I don’t know exactly what happened during her and Mason’s, but she walked into ours with a very open mind. She put forth a real effort and I often wonder if Mason gave her an ultimatum.

At the same time, she made well known to all of us involved that this was the last chance I would receive. If I messed this up in any way, shape, or form, Kellin would never be allowed around me again.

Here’s the really fucked up part—all the pressure had me wanting to cut.

I know. It’s disgusting.

But I haven’t done it. And as it gets closer, my excitement overshadows the need. Plus, seeing Mason happy and relaxed again has me on my best behavior. I will not screw this up for him.

There was a little while there when we walked on eggshells around each other, afraid to set the other off. After he lost his shit and got fired, I was scared. Scared because I knew part of it was my fault. He was worried about losing me. I was worried I had already lost him. Being the reason he wasn’t able to see his little brother is one of those things—capable of tearing two people apart no matter how much they love each other.

Today is good, though. Things have fallen back into a routine. We finish our last day before break and we’re both able to come straight home. Mason pulls up behind me and I meet him at the door.

He leans in and kisses my neck and I grip his shirt, pulling him closer. “You smell so good,” he mutters.

I reach around him for the mail and nudge him. “Get us inside.”

With a growl, he fumbles the lock, and practically shoves us through the door. As soon as it closes, we drop everything, pulling our jackets off. He’s kicking his shoes off. I’m ripping my shirt over my head. Our mouths come together and my feet are leaving the ground as he carries me to the bedroom. He tosses me onto the bed and slides my jeans off my hips, gliding them over my legs. I tug his belt, pulling him on top of me.

“We have to get our fill of this before Kellin gets here tomorrow,” I say breathlessly.

Mason groans into my bare shoulder. “I can never get my fill of you. It’s like my body absorbs everything you give me, soaking it up and searching for more. You’re my oxygen—there’s never enough and I will always need you to live.”

Cheese and rice. When he says ridiculously sweet things like that, I just can’t even believe he’s mine. I brush his dark hair out of his eyes and crash my mouth into his. His warm tongue dances with mine as his fingers work the clasp of my bra. I wiggle my hand in between us and unbutton his pants as quickly as I can. Damn. He’s right. Never enough.

~*~*~*~

Because it’s his first time here since I moved in, Gabbie decided she wanted to be close to Kellin. Our place is small enough that it couldn’t be here, and though I’d never say it out loud, I’m grateful. Kel has no issue sleeping on the couch, but Gabbie needs a bed. She’s staying with a friend she used to work with.

Before that, Mason’s cooking us all dinner. I love it when he cooks, even when he insists on adding vegetables. I sit on the counter eating a Twizzler as I watch his movements. There is something so sexy about the way he lithely chops carrots. I have no idea why it turns me on, but it truly does, and I wish we had more time.