Page 85 of Between Regrets and Promises

Sitting up, I blink a few times until my eyes adjust to the lights, then lie against the headboard. Mason sets my coffee on the nightstand before coming to sit near my feet.

“Your bookcase arrived this morning,” he says, then takes a sip. “I put it together for you, so I just need to bring it in here.”

My eyes widen in shock. “Wait, what? How?” That one-day shipping wasn’t a joke.

I grab my phone and look at the time. “It’s noon! Oh my God, why didn’t you wake me sooner? I could’ve helped you.”

“Seemed like you needed to catch up on sleep, so I let you rest.” Mason shrugs as if it wasn’t a big deal.

He’s not wrong. It’s been one of the hardest weeks of my life, and I wouldn’t have been able to get through it without him and my sisters.

Mason’s been going out of his way for me, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because he’s trying to make up for pretending Ididn’t exist for the past three years or because he feels guilty for what happened between us in that bar bathroom.

I sure as hell hope it’s not the latter.

“Seriously, thank you.” I reach over and place my hand over his. “I appreciate it. Everything. I appreciate this all so much.”

“You’re welcome, Soph. I’ll do whatever I can to help. I woke up early anyway. I’m going a little stir-crazy not working.”

I don’t miss the frustrated groan that leaves his lips, and I feel awful that he’s been put on leave. “I know, it’s weird not running around with my head cut off. But I think I’m going to visit a grief support group. Lennon mentioned it and going might help me work through my emotions. Maybe I’ll be able to heal quicker and can put it all in my past where it belongs.”

“A grief support group? Like where you talk about missing a loved one?” His tone is edgier than before, and I don’t miss the way his jaw tightens.

“Basically, yeah. Talk about a death that impacted you and how you’re dealing with it,” I try to explain, but when his brows crease, and he tilts his head, I know he’s still confused about why I would go to something like that. “I’m not grievinghim. But I do need to work out how I feel. I thought I was in love with him. I saw a future with him. I thought we were planning our forever together—as stupid as it makes me feel now. When things went from bad to worse, I became a shell of the person I used to be, and I recognized that. I wanted out. I wanted to leave, but I was scared of what he would do if I did. I feel foolish when I say it aloud?—”

“Soph, no,” Mason interrupts harshly, reaching over to grab my hand. “You were a victim, and he brainwashed and manipulated you. Don’t continue to give him that power over you. You have no reason to feel stupid. It’s easy to turn a blind eye to issues when you love someone. I wish I would’ve donesomething sooner, but I messed up when I thought keeping you at a distance was best for both of us.”

“There wasn’t anything you could’ve done, Mason,” I reassure him. “I didn’t want help. I thought I had it under control. If I said the right things, did what he asked, didn’t get in his way, didn’t push his buttons. As long as I didn’t piss him off, I believed he would love me. I don’t know why or how I became that person. Looking back now, that woman wasn’t me. I was trapped under his spell, and if it wasn’t for you, I have no doubt he would’ve done something to me. Something much worse than a black eye and bruised limbs. Those I can cover up and heal from, but the emotional and mental—the invisible pain—that’s what I need to work through.”

“I get it,” he says with a small smile. “If you want me to go with you, I will.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. But this is something I need to do on my own.”

Mason nods and stands. “Well, let’s get your bookcase in here so you can organize all your books because I know you’re dying to,” he tells me with a soft chuckle.

I shrug with a smirk. “Maybe. But how? Should I do by spine color? Genre? Author?”

Mason reaches for me and pulls me out of bed. With his arms wrapped around me, I melt into his hard chest and inhale his fresh just-out-of-the-shower scent. “Oh, sweet Sophie. What am I gonna do with you?”

My insides nearly burst when he calls me that. It brings back every single memory of that night together, and my stomach flutters just thinking about it.

Then he kisses my forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment longer than necessary before he pulls away and leads me out of the room with our hands still joined.

It feels weird being around people grieving those they love and miss. I don’t plan to reveal my whole story or the truth of why I’m here. There’s no easy explanation, and these people are strangers to me, which makes me feel slightly uncomfortable.

The moment I enter, my guard goes up, and I’m not sure I can do this. With my head down, I walk to the snack table and grab a cookie. I realized it’s stale and grab a Styrofoam cup for coffee instead.

“Unless you have a death wish, I wouldn’t drink that,” a deep voice next to me says. The rasp of it commands my attention, and goose bumps surface across my arms. Rough and low. A slight accent, I think. The moment I look at him, I realize how much it doesn’t match his physical appearance. He flashes a warm smile with straight white teeth, and it takes a minute to realize he’s waiting for me to respond.

“Is that so? Think someone poisoned it?” I smirk, putting the cup back to be safe.

He rewards me with a nice-sounding chuckle, his eyes sparkling under the lights. “Might as well be…” Then he leans in close—almost too close. “But I’m pretty sure it’s decade-old instant coffee. The elder church ladies here don’t let anything go to waste.”

“Ah…” I say, putting the pieces together. “So what you’re saying is I should’ve brought my own?” I eye the paper cup in his hand.

He holds it up proudly. “Yep. I got here early and made the mistake of trying it, nearly choking to death. So I made a quick trip across the street to the cafe.”

I smile, the weight of my anxiety slowly releasing from my chest.

---