Page 75 of Beautifully Messy
“Do you need a reminder of who you’re married to?” His voice is sharp, eyes wild. “Are you trying to make me jealous? That skirt the other night. The thing in the dining room before dinner. Whateverthatwas yesterday in the basement…”
He stops inches from me. He’s not particularly tall, only an inch or two taller than me, but he looms. Trying to intimidate me. Make me cower.
“Mason—”
He cuts me off, yanking me hard against him. “You want me to fuck you? Right here? Let him watch me bend you over the railing?” He spins me fast. His chest presses against my back. “Because he’s always watching you. And I think you like it.”
Dread coils down my spine as panic sets in. His nose ghosts over my neck as he presses harder against my body.
“Mase, this isn’t you,” I whisper, finally finding words—and my balance to either kick or drive an elbow if I have to. Because Mason has crossed plenty of lines, but he’s never touched me when I didn’t want it. And no way in hell is that happening.
For a moment, his breath—hot and ragged—ghosts across my neck, his fingers digging into my skin. He sucks in a long, shaky breath and his hold loosens.First one finger, then another, until his hand falls away completely. He steps back as though space might absolve him.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” His voice is soft now, almost fragile. A careful smile spreads across his face as he cradles my cheek, all traces of anger tucked neatly away. “The thought of losing you...The idea makes me so angry. I’m going to catch up on some work so I can spend the next few days with you and Anna.”
He turns and disappears inside while I stay frozen, releasing a slow, shaky breath as my body trembles.
The woods call to me. How many times have I stared at those trees and wished I could escape into them? Now I don’t hesitate. I force my feet to move and don’t stop until the trees swallow me whole. Only here, surrounded by silence and space, can I finally breathe. The sobs I’ve been holding back break free. The woods wrap tighter, offering silence, safety, and all the time I need.
When the tears finally stop, when my breathing steadies, the thoughts I’ve been avoiding creep in.
What happens tomorrow? Next week?
Mason has never touched me in anger, but tonight he crossed a line I never imagined he would. If he can do that once, what’s stopping him from doing it again? Am I safe? Is Anna? Do I need to keep my distance from James—to make sure Mason has no motive to escalate, to go further?
Today may have been the happiest I’ve felt in a long time, but what’s happening between James and me doesn’t exist in a vacuum. There’s a messy web of relationships caught between us. Tonight was a warning. A glimpse at how badly this could all fall apart.
But it was also something else: a preview of what happens when I stop playing by Mason’s rules. When I stop shrinking myself to fit the box he’s built for me.
I sit there long after the cold has numbed my limbs. Remembering the bookstore, the kitchen, the sunroom—the warmth that promised a better future.
And the truth of my marriage: it’s no longer only about happiness.
Twenty-Three
Wakinguptoastorm would have been fitting after the night I had.
But the morning dawns clear, crystalline blue, ice glittering on the trees. Mount Mansfield stands tall, its snow-covered peak gleaming in cruel perfection. Even with flames crackling in the hearth, the cold seeps into my bones. Around me, the house hums with life. The family bustles through breakfast, voices overlapping, silverware clinking, laughter floating despite last night’s darkness.
“Syd.” Margaret’s voice pulls me back. “You’re white as a ghost, sweetheart. Are you sick?”
“I didn’t sleep well,” I say softly, not looking up from my plate.
Mason’s eyes bore into me. I feel them without looking up.
“We fought last night,” he says with a theatrical shrug, still wearing yesterday’s wrinkled clothes. “I was a bit of an ass.”
James sets his coffee mug down sharply, his face is a mask of fury, and the force of it knocks the breath from my lungs. A choked sound rises in my throat as the weight of it all—last night, yesterday—crashes into me. He doesn’t know what happened, but his gaze cuts straight through me. He sees it was more than just a fight.
Jules clasps my hand. I sit frozen, coffee untouched. Her grip tightens as she feels me trembling. “What happened?”
I shake my head, eyes fixed on my untouched plate. I can’t speak it. Tears threaten, and I blink them back.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Get through breakfast.
“Son, there’s a saying: happy wife, happy life. I find groveling works wonders when I’ve pissed off your mother.” Gary chuckles, leaning across the table to kiss Margaret’s cheek.
Jules straightens and claps once. “Okay, family. We’re going ice skating. We need some fun today, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
