31. Mason

Mason

I ’m a fucking idiot.

I know it. Hannah knows it. The fucking teenage clerk at the local drugstore knows it, judging by the grimace on her face when she rings up my shitty Plan B pill.

I shouldn’t have fucked her. I definitely shouldn’t have slid inside her bare. In the moment, though, when she was begging for my cock, I really didn’t give a shit.

I still wouldn’t. And that’s a dangerous fucking thing.

I can still feel her fingers in my hair. Hear her moans echoing in my ear while I was buried inside her. From the scratches on my back to the taste of her on my tongue, she’s engrained in me.

I fucking hate it.

Her crying at the thought of the two of us being tied together solidified it. She couldn’t have made it any more clear that the thought of having a kid with me horrified her.

Those tears burned like acid in my chest when I watched them roll down her cheeks.

Still . . . I know she’s too fucking good for me. She always has been and maybe that’s why I crave her so much. Like an invasive species, I want to take her. Make her mine. No matter what she’s done, it pales in comparison to the terrible shit I have. The people I’ve let down. She’s a fucking saint where I’m concerned and touching her is like an act of defiance toward God.

If you believe in that shit.

I’ve never been religious, but watching her come for me, hearing her cry out my name like it’s a Hail Mary? That’s the closest I’ve ever felt to fucking heaven.

She was so fucking beautiful riding my cock . . . and now, she hates me.

The clerk finishes ringing me up and I take my bag, not bothering to mumble my thanks. She won’t hear me over the headphone jammed in her ear, anyway.

I make my way home in silence, taking my time because I just don’t have it in me to pretend I’m not still fucking reeling.

I’ve always been in this deeper than her. I’ve come to accept it. Where she can move on and forget about me, I wouldn’t be able to breathe in a world without her in it.

Isn’t that fucking poetic?

My hands shake as I drive. Jesus Christ. You’d think I just lost my fucking virginity.

I laugh bitterly in the silence of the cab. I was a dumbass to think she’d react differently. She’s still holding onto that hope that life is just going to magically be what she wants it to be tomorrow, when in reality, it’s ugly, cruel, and demeaning.

I’m not an idiot. I know a pregnancy with everything going on right now would be the worst thing either one of us could do.

Even so, the sick and twisted part of me didn’t care about coming inside her. Knocking her up would finally put an end to this. I’d marry her in a fucking heartbeat and finally give her a reason to stick around. To think of me as more than just the asshole helping her find her sister.

This obsession in me has this idea— a perfect fantasy where I’d find her in my bed, every night. I’d fuck her every morning and put a smile on that pretty face. Give her everything she could ever want so she’d never leave. She’d be mine, fully and neither heaven nor hell would be able to drag her away from me.

In reality, I can’t give her the life she wants. Parties and diamonds and too much wealth for any one person to spend in a lifetime. I make a comfortable living, but nothing near what she’s used to. My house isn’t a castle and I’m definitely not her fucking knight in shining armor.

She’ll leave when this is done. I need to accept that.

She’s got me by the balls and there isn’t shit I can do about it.

With the cartel knowing where she is, it’s only a matter of time before her mother shows up. Now they’re sucking me into their trafficking bullshit.

I won’t do it.

I’ll die before I ever let Dad’s garage get turned into that same shit the old paper mill was.

I scrub a hand over my face, a plan forming. I need to see Logan. I need to get every single ounce of information out of the little prick that broke into Hannah’s house to see if we can fix this because right now . . . shit’s looking pretty fucking bleak.

There’s a car I recognize in my drive as soon as I pull in and I groan in frustration.

“Jesus Christ, Savannah,” I grit, ready to break apart whatever bullshit fight she’s come to start now.

I force my legs to carry me inside, the sound of their voices ringing out from the living room.

Both freeze when I step into the doorway, Hannah’s gaze wary while Savannah’s is tense.

“I just came to speak with Hannah.”

“Wonderful.”

I look to Hannah

I nod to the kitchen and Hannah swallows, face bleak as she follows me. As soon as we’ve stepped inside, I hand her the bag and she takes it like it weighs a thousand pounds.

“Mason—” she starts, but I cut her off.

“No.”

Her eyes flick to mine and I can see she’s been crying. I expect her to argue, but she doesn’t push, popping the pill in her mouth and swallowing it down without water.

I nod. It’s done.

“Do I need to stay?”

She shakes her head softly, though she doesn’t look at me. My chest aches to take her chin in my hand, but if I touch her right now, I won’t want to stop until she agrees to be mine.

“I’ll be back later,” I murmur, heading for the door. I don’t want to look at her. See the fucking disappointment in those pretty green eyes.

I grab the bike keys on the way because I need to clear my head before I meet Logan. “Don’t wait up.”

Maybe if I drive fast enough, I’ll forget all about Hannah Gaines and her pretty fucking eyes.

But I’m betting I won’t.