Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Deaton might be gone, but he was still there in my dreams, and in my dreams, I could hold on to him. I could tell him about his little boy and how magnificent he was. I could share all I wanted to share, and he would be right there, eager to listen.
In my dreams, he could live on forever.
And then Mason came into the picture, my picture. Somewhere along the way, we went from strangers to friends to more. Guilt wanted me to hold on to the past, but my subconscious was already looking toward the future.
The moment I fell for Mason, the fragile figments of my imagination finally shattered, the pieces carried away by the winter wind, scattering the metaphorical ashes of the boy who taught me how to love. The boy who showed me so much of it, the black hole I felt I lived in finally shone a little brighter.
He was my light, and when I realized what had happened in his wake, I felt like I covered him in darkness. Dirtied his memory by daring to endanger it because the truth was hard to face, because the truth is…
If Deaton was the light, then Mason is the sun.
He’s a life-changing constant, a forever presence of warmth and growth.
And how could I possibly survive without the center of my personal solar system?
The simple answer: I couldn’t.
The minute I left Mason standing in the grass, the look of utter devastation drawn across his face, I knew what I needed to do, the possibility of what Alister had been led to believe having shocked some sense into me. It shouldn’t have taken the thought of Mason with another woman to do so, but here we are.
I realize now that while I was so busy trying to protect myself from the possibility of losing Mason, something I know I would never survive, I was the one making it a reality.
The world didn’t take him from me.
I took him from myself, breaking us both, and that’s a weight I’ll have to carry.
I let fear drive me forward, and in turn, I shoved him back when I should have held on, allowing him to hold me up the way he’d been asking to.
No more, Mase.
It took me two days to work things out, to get ahold of Sarah and Ian, Nate’s parents, to help with Deaton and another to convince them not to tell my dad I was en route. He means well, but that’s a whole other issue I just don’t have the energy or headspace to unpack right now. I guess I’m a little less forgiving of how he let my mother keep me away now that I have a child of my own.
You don’t walk away. You walk through the damn fire to get to your baby.
But again, that relationship isn’t something I have the energy to think about. My childhood already played a big enough role in the headspace I live in. The last thing I want is to take a step backward when I’ve finally found the strength to hit the incline.
Maybe if he didn’t leave me after loving me, I wouldn’t be so afraid of it happening to my son.
Then again, maybe not.
Maybe leaving is human nature or simply a stage of life.
Plain and simple? People leave.
They love you and they leave you, with or without their own consent.
Deaton didn’t choose to leave me…but he also did.
He left California that day before we could talk, because he didn’t want to deal with his parents’ wrath had he not. I understand that. It just so happened I chose the opposite.
I ran from my mother, and I refused to go back.
He didn’t, and then he died.
I don’t know what that means, and maybe it means nothing at all, but it’s the ugly truth behind the ache. I knew he wasn’t leaving me, but if I said I don’t sometimes blame him for everything, I’d be lying. And it took me a very long time to realize this. It’s not fair, especially since I’m the reason he came to California in the first place. It’s just what is.
I was just as mad as I was sad, and I hated that. Guilt was—no, guilt is like a second skin in my life, and I don’t want to wear it anymore. I want to break free and just…be.
But breaking free means breaking open all the boxes and facing what I’ve fought against.
The real versus the fake.
The then versus the now.
If there’s one thing I’ve realized in the last few weeks, it’s that I’m not helping my son by holding back.
I’m hurting us both.
I’m hurting all of us, and I don’t want to hurt anymore.
I thought pushing Mason away was an act of self-preservation, a way of protecting myself from further loss, but in reality, I caused more unnecessary damage. The worst part is my actions didn’t only affect me but Mason as well, a fact I’ll forever be forced to face.