Page 67 of A Little More Hope

“He’s a big boy; he’ll cope.”

“He’ll cope. He’ll fucking cope; he’ll…” I spluttered to a stop, unable to speak, the words stuck in my throat, as picturing Mason facing all the fear and stress on his own filled me with horror.

“What’s it matter to you anyway?”

“What does it matter?” I gawped at him, incredulous. “What does it matter? I love him, you fool. Of course, his safety and protection matter to me. Everything about him matters to me, and if anything happens to him, so help me God—” I stopped midtirade to stare at the disgustingly smug look on Gabe’s face. The fucker had played me. “You are such an asshole,” I grumbled at him. “A total Grade-A fucking asshole.”

His laughter was deep and rich and almost made him likeable again for a second. Almost.

I took a few sips of my coffee before working up the courage to ask the one question that’d been stressing me out all morning. “How is he?”

He mulled it over. “Scared.”

My head whipped around in a second.

“He knows he fucked up. He’s just not sure what to do about rectifying his mistake.”

“And leaving town is gonna help how?”

Gabe’s eyes instantly hardened, his mouth flattening into a thin slash as the protective friend emerged. The swiftness of the change took me by surprise. “Hey, cut him some slack will ya? He’s already had enough pain, enough hurt, and more than enough trauma without you ripping him apart too.”

Guilt whacked me with the force of a truck right in the gut. “Sorry.” Picking up my sandwich to hide my embarrassment, I went to take a bite, but my stomach instantly rebelled at the thought of eating, so I dropped the food back onto the plate. “He hurt me too.”

He let out a resigned sigh. “I know, and so does he.”

“Does he?” If there was any way to prove we could move past this problem, I needed some sort of confirmation he understood and acknowledged what his actions had done to me.

“He does.”

“But?”

“Give him time, okay?”

Time. Time for what? I might be waiting around for weeks, months, hell, years until Mason figured out he was ready.

“I promise you he’s worth the wait.”

I squinted at him. The emotion in his voice the most he’d ever emitted when I was around. “Mason and I have been friends for a long time, and he’s never acted this way around anyone else but you, ex-fiancée included.” He left the sentence hanging as I tried to decode exactly what he meant.

When Mason had spoken of his ex, despite the circumstances of their breakup, it was obvious he missed her. Despite how good I imagined we could be together if we managed to resolve our current issues, deep down, where I kept all my fears and insecurities, there remained a lingering doubt I’d forever be compared to the love of his life and would always come up short. She’d left him, so I’d assumed, however unrealistic and unwarranted the notion may be, that he still carried a torch for her, and being with me was an easy way to get his rocks off and take his mind off the fact she’ll not be coming back.

But perhaps, if what Gabe said was true, maybe my skewed belief I’d always be second best in a relationship with him was no longer a viable assumption. It might also mean I’d given Mason one more reason to stay safely behind his walls and not trust me since then he’d be able to protect himself and not get hurt. Great for him. Not so great for me.

Then again, perhaps I was the one who needed to trust in him more, lower my own walls, and fully let him in. Help him believe I’d never hurt him and never leave him, which would be tough to accomplish, I know. But maybe I should have tried harder, put more effort in, instead of doing the one action he feared the most and run. It might have been all the reassurance he needed to take the final step.

I fiddled with my napkin and stared out the window, seeing nothing but my long list of faults. “Is he coming back?” I asked quietly, not entirely sure I wanted to hear his reply.

A hand landed gently on my shoulder and squeezed a couple of times. “Yeah, he’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.”

I swallowed hard. “Good. That’s good.”

Gabe picked up his coffee and pastry and made to go.

“Thank you.” I gave him a crooked smile. “Maybe you’re only a Grade-B asshole after all.

He laughed again and I liked that we were back on track. If Mason and I were to have any type of future, I expected I’d see a lot more of the man, so there was no point in us being enemies. Forging a friendship might take time but was worth pursuing for no other reason than to please Mason and make his life a bit less stressful.

“No fucking way,” he replied heading for the door. “Grade-A asshole all the way, baby. Grade-A all the way.”

---