Page 93 of Making It Burn
It wasn’t working.
Beau had called out sick, so I’d spent the entire day quietly flipping out.
I can’t keep loving someone who won’t let me.
Beau’s words played on repeat in my head, had been playing on repeat since Saturday night when he’d said them on that terrace.Each repetition felt like a knife twisting deeper.
I can’t keep loving someone who won’t let me.
Loving.Present tense.He loved me.
And I’d just stood there.Frozen.Panicking.Unable to say the words back even though they were right there in my chest, choking me.
I poured another drink with shaking hands.
The weekend had been hell.Radio silence from Beau except for a single text on Sunday-
I need some space.Please respect that.
So I had.I’d respected it.Given him space.Stayed away.And spent two days spiraling in my apartment, replaying every moment from the party.
Paul’s calculated smile as he positioned us under that mistletoe.
The crowd gathering, phones out, everyone watching.
The panic that had seized my chest, making it impossible to breathe.
Beau’s face as he deflected, protecting me even as I was hurting him.
Patsy reading Paul the riot act.
And then the terrace.God, the terrace.
You’ve been weird all week, Mason.Distant.In your head.
He’d been right.I had been.Ever since lunch with Caroline and Scott, I’d been spiraling, questioning everything I thought I knew about my father, about myself, about what I was so afraid of.
We can’t keep doing this.The hiding.The pretending.
I can’t keep loving someone who won’t let me.
I drained my glass and reached for the bottle again.
My phone sat on the coffee table, dark and silent.No calls.No texts.Nothing from Beau since Sunday.
I’d thought about calling him a hundred times.Texted and deleted messages over and over.I’m sorry.Please talk to me.I love you.I’m scared.Don’t leave me.
But I hadn’t sent any of them.Because what was the point?What could I say that would make any of this better?
I want to move forward.
That’s what I’d told him on the terrace.And I’d meant it.I wanted to move forward.But wanting something and actually doing it were two very different things.
The problem was I didn’t know how.Didn’t know how to be the person Beau needed me to be.I wanted to be the man who could kiss him under the mistletoe in front of the entire firm.The person who could hold his hand in public.
The person who wasn’t terrified.
I thought about calling Caroline.She’d been texting all weekend—How are you?Want to grab lunch?But what would I say?
