Reputation (Mason Family 2)

“I am being real.”

He invades my personal space and puts his arms around me, locking his hands at the small of my back. The contact causes a river of tears to stream down my face.

“Stop crying,” he tells me.

“I can’t just stop crying.”

“Then stop pushing me away and this can be different.”

I want to argue with him. But he’s right. I am pushing him away.

A part of it is from fear. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that to myself. But the bigger reason I’m putting a wedge between us and a shield over my heart is because I know it’s the right thing to do.

“The last few days have been wonderful,” I tell him, my voice thankfully staying even. “You have been amazing. But I remember now why I don’t let myself have that level of hope. Because it’s … unrealistic.”

“What’s unrealistic is you discounting us without giving us a chance.”

“I gave us a chance—more than once. And I thought maybe this time would be different. But … you didn’t even ask me to weigh in on it, Coy. You didn’t even include me in your choice. Do you even realize that?”

He slow blinks.

“You came in here and told me what was happening. And that’s fine,” I say. “But it tells me what this is going to be, and I’d like to think that I’d have some input about things.”

He stands in front of me. If I reached out, I could touch the side of his face. I could play with his hair or touch the lines in his stomach.

But that would make things worse.

“I’m sorry we waited so long to get on the same page. And I’m even sorrier that we fell off of it so quickly.”

His eyes grow wide. “What are you talking about—sorrier that we fell off? What the hell, Bellamy?”

“This will never work.”

“The hell it won’t.”

His tone gets under my skin. It’s as if he doesn’t realize that this is infinitely harder on me than it is on him.

Much to his dismay—and mine, I pull away.

“I really, really need you to go. What’s going to happen is inevitable, and it’ll be easier if I have fewer memories to process at three in the morning, okay?”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

My body stills as the tears move silently down my face.

Even though the words tell me he wants to stay, I hear the wobble in them. And I see something else too—a lack of an actual action. Proof that he means the things he says this time.

I want to take him at his word, but I’ve done that before. And I can’t be stupid again.

I reach out and touch his face for the last time. My heart shatters, the pieces so small and jagged that it’ll never be able to be put back together again.

“You need to go,” I say, my voice clogged with emotion. “Now.”

I close the distance between us and press a kiss to his cheek.

With a final look at him, I turn and walk to my bedroom.

My back hits the wall as my legs give out. I try to control the sobs emanating from my chest as I shake violently.

I look toward the door through the mass of tears and hope—stupidly hope—that he comes for me.

But he doesn’t. And when I hear the loud thud of the front door shutting behind him, I know that’s what I need to do too.

Put him behind me. Get up. Move forward.

Alone.

Twenty-Three

Coy

I jam my clothes into my suitcase.

“Fuck this,” I mutter as I slam the lid shut.

Zip!—the sound shoots through the air as I race the track around the perimeter of the luggage shut.

My head is so loud. Snippets of my conversation with Bellamy mixes with her laughter from yesterday and the sound of us kissing in the moments before things were ruined.

I sit on the bed and hold my head in my hands.

“I don’t want to leave,” I say out loud.

My voice is murky from the angst that fills every inch of my body. It’s dread and an anguish so deep that I’m not sure that I’ll ever claw my way out of it.

The worst part of it all—besides seeing Bellamy in so much pain—is the rejection. Because that’s what it is at the end of the day.

She rejected me.

Her points were valid. I understand what she was saying. But, if she really loved me—if she wanted this to work as badly as I do, she’d want to try.

And she doesn’t.

She just wanted me gone.

Knock, knock!

I look up to see my mom standing in the doorway. Concern paints her face, and that doesn’t make me feel any better.

“Hey, kiddo. Are you okay?” Mom asks.

“Does it look like it?”

She frowns as she enters my room. “What’s happening? I heard all this racket coming from in here and wondered if you were packing up your things or if Boone was up to no good.”