Reputation (Mason Family 2)

I drop my hands to my side.

“Where the hell did that come from?” I ask an empty room.

I pivot on the bench and rest my elbows on my knees.

A myriad of feelings has battled inside me all morning. Not only do I have a weird energy and a surge in creativity but I also have an annoying prickle in the back of my mind.

I know why. It’s not lost on me.

“It doesn’t hit the same when you’re the one getting walked away from, does it?”

I know the night she’s talking about. The night on the boat. The Fourth of July three years ago just before I hit it big in music. My parents throw a massive party every year on their houseboat, and, naturally, Bells was there. We drank a lot and flirted even more. As the night wore on, we danced on the deck before finding ourselves in a bedroom.

That night creeps up on me often.

The sweetness of her body against my tongue. The heaviness of her hands against my skin.

The warmth of her smile, the heat of her tongue—the searing pain in my chest as I held her against me as the sun started to rise over the horizon.

I never thought I’d have Bellamy. Not again. We might’ve fumbled around when we were teenagers, but this was different. This was fucking real. This was touching and kissing and looking at each other while our bodies moved together—not just an awkward exchange of bodily fluids.

This was the moment that the two of us hooked up as adults. It wasn’t just two horny kids looking for quick relief from a burst of lust. It was the culmination of something that I’d always wondered about the possibility of happening.

That night on the boat, I lost track of myself for a moment. I blame it on the alcohol. I held her face in my hands and told her that I would be there for her if she ever needed me. That all she had to do was call. I hoped she’d read into things and give me some sort of indication that she did need me—daily.

Instead, Bellamy made it clear that I was a peripheral part of her life in her subtle way. She cracked jokes and talked about me like a guy she barely knew. She put a bit of distance between our naked bodies and fell asleep shortly after that.

So I stayed there. Emotionally. Physically. In every way. Right where she wanted me.

Just like I do now.

Her indifference to me—that night specifically—shook my confidence a little. I’d never attempted to connect with someone like that. To be shot down? Ouch. But, more than that, it diminished that sliver of possibility about the future. It freed me in a way that I didn’t want once I had it but took advantage of anyway.

I slept with women. I acknowledged that they would never want the real me because if the one person who knew me better than anyone didn’t, who would?

I watched Bellamy as I texted Meadow back a few hours later. The thought of leaving Bellamy softened my excitement of dashing to New York City to open for a headliner in Times Square. But I knew what I had to do—both for her and for me.

I left before she woke up and hoped it made things easier for her.

But did it?

The doorbell rings before I can think about it too in depth. I glance at my watch as I make my way down the hallway and descend the stairs.

Did she change her mind and decide to bring Bree over?

I tug open the door without looking through the peephole.

Standing on the other side is a smiling Bree and a scowling Bellamy.

My cheeks split into a grin. “Well, I didn’t expect to see you two today.”

“Mom said I could come,” Bree says, holding up a mitt and a workbook. “I’m ready to get busy.”

“That’s great,” I say, looking at Bellamy over Bree’s head. “What do you want to do first?”

“Baseball. But Mom said it has to be piano because I have a recital coming up,” Bree says with a sigh.

Bellamy crosses her arms over her chest. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I say, motioning for Bree to come inside.

I step out of the way as they both walk by me, then shut the door behind them.

“Can I use the bathroom before we get started?” Bree asks. “I gotta pee bad.”

I laugh, pulling my eyes from Bellamy’s. “Sure. Go into the kitchen. There’s a door on the left with a calendar hanging on it. That’s a bathroom.”

“Thanks!” Bree sets her stuff on the floor and takes off toward the kitchen.

Once her footsteps fade away, Bellamy sighs.

“About earlier …” She bites her bottom lip.

I reach forward and spring it free. She gasps at the contact. I could, too, by the heat that fires through my veins, but I contain my surprise better than her.