Page 141 of Please Hate Me

It would hurt, but I could have a new identity in under a day. I could pick any state and just start again. Of course, the life I lived in Hartwood would haunt me. These memories of family and hope would sustain me through the endless hardship that would certainly become my life. Once I taught myself not to be human, not to feel, not to love, the thought of Cameron Cole’s life would bring me to tears.

I never truly deserved this heaven, no matter how desperately I wanted it.

“Cameron! You missed breakfast. Do you want me to cook for you?”

Mason’s voice swept through the room like a summer breeze, turning my attention her way.

She wanted to cook for me?

My breathing stuttered at the thought. I had possibly endangered Mason’s life by sleeping with her. If she were to die in the next few months, I’d be at fault. If she knew what a monster I was, would she still feel this urge to take care of me?

I shook my head like an etch-a-sketch, trying to erase those thoughts.

“I’m a big boy. Missin’ a meal won’t hurt me none.”

She let out a heavy sigh, and her brows pulled together ever-so-slightly as she stared me down. Come to think of it, that probably wasn’t the right thing to say to someone who was so insecure about her own weight gain that she had to step on the scale backward for doctor’s appointments.

“Can you come sit with me, at least?”

Her request pulled me away from what remained of my self-loathing. I walked over to join her. The cushions bowed under my weight, and I pulled her feet onto my lap, rubbing them softly. Normally, when I did this, she made noises to rile me up, but there were no stifled moans as she watched me.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

My shoulders tensed as I silently struggled with my guilt. I should have been the one asking Mason if she was okay, maybe even groveled at her feet for forgiveness. Instead, I redirected the focus of the conversation away from myself:

“Your ankles are swollen.”

She groaned. “All of me is swollen. I want this babyout.”

It was always a little funny when Mason whined. I never imagined she’d be so soft, but I liked that side of her. I caressed the curve of her stomach, and the babyformerlyknown as Lavender kicked at my palm.

“Just a few more weeks.”

“Lucian told me he thinks Rosie is going to come late—isn’t that a terrible thing to say?”

I had to fight a smile. “He just likes gettin’ your goat.”

“Well, it’s working… you should really punish him again.”

“I’ll take it up with Sophia,” I assured her. “What are you lookin’ at on your phone?”

Mason shifted a bit before sliding up to a sitting position—with a little help, of course.

“If I tell you, it stays between us.”

“... You weren’t watchin’ porn or anything, right?” Not that I’d judge her if she were, but that wasn’t a very living-room-friendly activity.

She shook her head. “I promised Seb I wouldn’t talk about it.”

What the hell could he have shown her that she couldn’t talk about? He wasn’t dumb enough to drag her into his work… was he?

“But… I might be willing to talk just a little if you promise to keep it between us.” She offered me her pinky.

I hesitated for a moment, as if a pinky promise was a legally binding agreement and not a gesture I extended to the twins when they needed extra reassurance. Mason had been mistreated in so many ways—how was she still so damn sweet?

A smile pleaded at my lips as I wound my finger around hers.

“Cross my heart.”

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