I finally took a seat and looked around. The entire business was built as a shrine to Kate. She was the only one who believed in me. Bouncing from house to house, forever in trouble, getting my ass beat like it was routine as eating dinner, Kate was the one who was there for me. With me. The first time she got hit was what changed me for forever. A punk named Stan, collecting his fucking monthly payment for pretending to give a shit about me, was the one who did it. The house was run down. It was full of kids. I never understood how the fuck the state could let that shit go on, but it did. I lived it. He’d pick one of us each night, and we’d be the breathing punching bag for a little while. We all learned the tricks.
Fall quick. Cover your face. Don’t cry. Fuck, don’t ever fucking cry. Ever. Shoot for a broken bone because it would end quick, then you’d get a break for a couple months while you healed. Don’t look into his eyes. Don’t answer his questions, good or bad. And if he ever asks if you’ve had enough, always say ‘yes, sir, I have tonight’…but please of all things…don’t cry.
I thought my leg was broken, and Kate came through the door to check on me. Another rule? Don’t get in his way. The second she saw me, her eyes went wide. Those beautiful blue eyes. I never saw her that angry. See, Stan had this trick with me. He was a little afraid of me, so he’d tie my hands. That made him feel more manly.
I screamed at Kate to get the fuck out of the room.
But she made a move at Stan.
He threw a right at her like it was nothing.
I’d seen women get hit before, but not a woman I loved.
Kate flew back and grabbed her face. She burst into tears.
Don’t ever fucking cry. Just don’t…if you do…
The fucking devil lived inside Stan.
He made a move at Kate and my fuse blew for good. I climbed to my feet—Hey, guess what? My leg isn’t fucking broken. Sweet—and I jumped at him. My shoulder slammed against his ribs, sending him flying.
And what ensued was a fight that was bloody, brutal, leaving Kate screaming for me the whole time. In the end, I got blamed for everything and shipped away.
Away from Kate.
Away from Kate.
I jumped up out of my chair and grabbed it. I turned and threw it, watching it smash against a wall.
“Holy shit!” a voice boomed.
I spun around and saw Thorn standing at the garage door, half opened, a coffee in his hand.
“Mason?”
“Thorn,” I said. “What the fuck…”
“What the fuck yourself,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I said. “A little issue in my head I’m working on.”
Thorn opened the door the rest of the way. “Jesus, man…”
I walked to the open door. “You always get here this early?”
“Most days,” Thorn said. “Open the shop. Get shit organized. Try to keep some of these projects going forward. Mason…”
I patted Thorn on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Thorn. Keep it up.”
“Yeah, right…”
I walked to my motorcycle and decided to go for a ride. A really long ride. I hadn’t thought about that shit with Kate in a long time. Those feelings and those memories were supposed to be long since buried and gone. Never able to come back. But they dug through and got the fuck out.
Because of Violet.
She kept digging…and she was getting hints of answers…but could she handle it all?
The sun burned through the darkness, and the new morning was upon me while I was on some road somewhere, trying to be lost.
That’s when my cell phone vibrated, reminding me that I could never be lost.
It was Violet.
You’ll always love her—and I’m okay with that. You can tell me the darkness—and I won’t judge you for that.
I squeezed the phone tight in my hand and gritted my teeth.
My body crawled with an anger that was scary. I wanted to be in the chair, getting inked some more. That was what had been my relief for months, waiting for Violet.
But now, Violet was in my bed, back in my heart.
And she wanted it all.
“Fair enough, babe,” I whispered to the open and empty road.
I turned my ride around and retraced my steps back to her.
She wanted it? She was going to get it. The truth…no matter what it meant for us.
22
The Truth of Her
(Violet)
“I want to take you out for breakfast,” Mason said as he stood just inside the door.
I was on the couch, sipping coffee, feeling relaxed, comfortable, and even a little sexy, even though I was a mess.
I looked at him and saw the expression on his face. As much as I wanted to laugh or question him or just say no thanks to him, there was this look…Mason had never asked a woman out before. Or at least, he hadn’t asked many at all. So, him offering me a place to stay, not kicking me out the next morning, and wanting to take me to breakfast? Those were all little signs of his love for me.
“Let me do something with my hair real quick,” I said.
I put the coffee mug on the table and popped up off the couch. As I walked by him, Mason grabbed my arm and pulled me close.
I let out a little gasp.
He wasted no time in kissing me. “Good morning, babe,” he whispered.
“Morning, Mason,” I whispered.
I rubbed the tip of my nose against his. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and through my body. I tingled everywhere, right down to the tips of my toes.
I kissed him, finally able to steal one from the tattooed bad boy.
“Easy,” he whispered. “You kiss me again and we’re skipping breakfast.”
“We can’t. It’s the healthiest meal of the day, Mason.”
He put his hands to my hips. “Oh, babe, if we stay here, I won’t be skipping breakfast. You’ll be my breakfast.”
My body gushed. The temptation wrapped its arms tight around me.
I had to break away from Mason though.
I couldn’t squander this chance to go out with him. And see what would happen then.
I backed up and reached out, my pointer finger touching the scruff on his face. I bit my lip and drew in a deep breath.
Mason had no idea how long it had been since I’d woken up and felt good. Felt refreshed. Felt like everything would somehow work itself out.
I rushed to the room and hurried to pull my hair back. I brushed it out and did my best to not look like a sloppy mess of sex and sleep.
I met Mason back at the door, and he slipped his hand into mine.
A date. An actual date. Even if it was just a breakfast date, whatever. It was a date. Me and him going out.
That’s all that raced through my mind as he drove and I sat in the passenger seat of his truck.
We went to a little greasy hole, right on the corner of a busy street. It had a total city vibe to it and I couldn’t believe I’d never heard of the place. Then again, from the outside, you’d never know it was a breakfast place. There was no sign. The big window in front was dirty and filled with knick-knacks. If anything, it looked like some old consignment shop.
The door to get in was an old screened storm door. It felt like walking into someone’s kitchen.
We sat in a beat-up booth and ordered a lot of food.
Everything from pancakes to eggs to bacon and sausage. Orange juice and coffee to match.
“Where did you go this morning?” I asked Mason.
“Went to the shop. To think. Then for a ride.”
“A ride?”
“Just hit the road and kept going. You called, and I came back.”
“You ride like that a lot?”
“Not lately,” Mason said as he lifted his coffee mug to his lips. “I usually get in the chair and get some ink.”
There was just something so sexy about him sipping coffee, tattoos starting at his wrists and running up his arms to wh
ere his shirt sleeves began.
“Right,” I said. “The tattoos.”
“Okay, you want the truth? I’m ready to give it to you.”
My eyes went wide. “Oh?”
“Kate,” he said. “I was thinking about some shit with her and…”
“Mason, I meant what I texted you. You don’t have to change your feelings.”
“I never would,” he said. “But here’s the thing. After being with you, it’s like I don’t love her anymore. Like I almost accept that she’s gone. I swore that would never happen. I swore I would waste every second of my life until I was dead so that I could see her again.”
I sucked in a breath and nodded. “No matter how you feel, I support you.”
“You don’t know shit about this, babe.”
The waitress came with a tray full of food.
The table was then covered in breakfast.
“Eat first,” Mason said.
Not really the way I wanted everything to happen, but I was hungry.
We started to eat, and I just enjoyed the food and waited for Mason to talk to me.
He went through pancakes and bacon like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.
Leaning forward a little, he nodded at me. “Good?”
“Delicious,” I said. “Haven’t had breakfast like this in a long time.”
“You know that I was a foster kid,” Mason said.
I swallowed hard. I nodded.
“I’ve told you some things here and there. I grew up with her. With Kate. We were always together. From day fucking one. Through the darkest days, Violet, it was always me and her. She was two years older than me. I was enamored. I loved her before I knew what love actually was. But I had this deep urge to care for her. To protect her. Even when our families got broken up a couple times, I would check up on her. The first time I saw her kiss a guy, I thought I was dying on the inside.”
“Mason…”
He put a hand up. “I went after the guy. He was four years older than me. Football player. He beat my ass senseless and left me under the bleachers. Know who came to my side? Kate. She was gorgeous, helping me to my feet. I was thirteen. She was fifteen. She explained to me that I needed to understand what she was going through, too. But I couldn’t. I was in love. I never loved another person like I did her. And it wasn’t until we were older, over eighteen, that things started to take shape.”
“You had a chance with her then,” I said, smiling faintly.
“No,” Mason said. “Violet, it was never meant to be. There was no chance. We… shit.”
“What?”
Mason made fists and looked around the diner. “I gotta go.”
“What?”
Mason pulled himself from the booth. He grabbed a handful of cash from his pocket and threw it to the table.
“Mason,” I called out.
But he was on the move. He walked to the door and threw it open.
I sat there, alone, trying to understand what just happened.
What kind of secret was he hiding?
I organized the cash and gave the waitress a cheap excuse before bolting out of the diner. I rushed around the side of the building and was relieved to see Mason’s truck sitting there. Mason behind the wheel.
Opening the passenger door, I climbed up and took a seat.
I didn’t speak a word.
He just sat there, staring forward.
After a minute or so, I reached for his hand and squeezed.
There was nothing I could say. And the only thing I could do was be there.
“She really meant everything to me,” he finally said. “I went to a new home when I was a kid. The first time. But the system preferred a family together. So, they gave me back to my first foster mother. They thought of her as family. It was good for a little while. Then she started dating this guy. Tony. He was a slimy asshole. Everything he did was shady. But he loved my foster mother. So much that he married her. Boom. Just like that, I guess I had a stepfather. Not that he was going to take care of me. I asked him once to throw a baseball around and he said sure. We went out back and he took my only baseball and threw it as hard as he could. Told me to go fetch like a good dog. He rubbed my hair and went back inside. Never got that baseball back. But then something happened. I was ten years old. Cops were always at the house, but nothing serious usually went down. So one day there was a knock at the door. I opened it, and there she was. Kate. Twelve years old. To me, she was a woman. She was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen. A backpack on one shoulder and a bag at her feet.”
Mason paused and looked at me.
I smiled.
“Violet…the truth of her? She was Tony’s daughter. Which I guess made her my stepsister.”
I slowly nodded. “Oh…”
“Yeah. That’s the truth. I fell in love with my stepsister. I loved her with all my heart. No matter how fucked-up that sounds, I don’t care. We connected in that first second, Violet. I swear to you, we did. And we just stuck together. I was hopelessly in love with her. So hopeless. It was fucking pathetic.”
“I don’t think it’s pathetic,” I said. “You loved her. It doesn’t matter if your foster mother and her father were together. Doesn’t seem like you were all…a real family, you know?”
Mason nodded. “Well, after my so called normal family was destroyed, the truth came out about my mother and her father. They had serious problems for years that I never realized until they were gone. Then I started to bounce from house to house. But they kept placing me and Kate together. Which was great. The thing was… the closer I was to her, the more I wanted her. It was a feeling that I still can’t describe. And it wasn’t something dirty, either. I wanted to give her a good life. So that became my motivation. But somewhere in the mix of it, there was a lot of hate and anger. I was mad at the world, Violet. For the cards I had been dealt. Top that with not being able to have Kate the way I wanted… I set out to make the world hate me. Person by person. And I was damn good at it. The only person that didn’t hate me?”
“Kate,” I whispered.
“Kate. She loved me. She told me she loved me when I was seventeen. She was nineteen, drunk, and had gotten into a fight with her then-boyfriend. I went after the guy and ended up in jail. Kate bailed me out. We got an apartment together. We worked. We tried to stay out of trouble. But being close…”
I could feel the pain coming from him. All this time he was worried about being judged for his feelings. This massive hunk of a man, he really had some deep feelings. I felt myself getting choked up a little watching the raw emotion pour off of him.
“We’d get drunk together. We’d get so close, Violet. So fucking close. We’d flirt with that idea of something greater. Something more. Something deeper. But it just never took hold the way I wanted. She begged me one night to tell her everything I felt and I couldn’t. I couldn’t find the words to tell her how much I loved her. So I wrote her a letter. I left it for her. And she wrote me one back. That’s where that started. Just writing letters back and forth. I watched her bounce from guy to guy, beating so many people up, it wasn’t even funny. And for me? I just did what I did best. One night stands that ended with me getting punch, slapped, whatever it took to get the woman out of my bed. There were nights when we’d both have the same thing happen. I’d kick some woman out. She’d go home with a guy and wait for him to fall asleep. Then she’d come over and we’d shower and sleep in bed, me holding her tight.”
Mason paused again. He cleared his throat.
I grew up the total opposite of Mason. My parents were in love, still were. Even through Dad’s illness. Their arguments consisted of mild yelling that would end in laughter. I never really dated or had relationship drama because Davis was my first real boyfriend. We all know how that ended the first time. I focused in school, went to college, and my path? Well, it was clean.
Mason’s path was filthy. Twisting and turning.
Sadness around every corner.
&
nbsp; No wonder he embraced the idea of hate the way he did. He knew nothing else but that.
Mason looked at me. “Pretty fucked up, huh?”
“No,” I said. “It’s just honest.”
“Why the fuck are you so good with all of this?” he asked.
“I just am.”
“Are you fucking working me over or something?”
“What?”
“I don’t get it. You were in the world of perfect. You know nothing about hell. Yet you want it so fucking bad. Why?”
“I don’t want it,” I said. “I want you, Mason. I’m just trying to show you that you can trust me. With everything you’re telling me…”
“I’m done,” he said. “I’m done talking for now. I can’t.”
“Mason,” I said.
He put the truck into drive and it started to move forward.
He didn’t respond to me.
“Mason,” I said.
I said his name five more times and he ignored me each time.
In fact, he didn’t speak a word to me the whole way back to his apartment.
When we got there, he unlocked the door and opened it for me. Then he started to close it again.
I put my hand to the door and jumped at him. “What are you doing?”
“I have to go to the shop,” he said.
“Mason… don’t run.”
“You lived differently,” he growled. “And I swore to myself that anyone who had it better than me would forever hate me. I wanted to bring my pain and anger to those who had it so fucking perfect. That includes you.”
I swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t judge you. I don’t judge you. It’s sweet and romantic.”
“Sweet and romantic?” he asked. “You have no idea what it was like. Being hurt for days and weeks and months and years.”
“Then give it to me,” I said. “I can take it. I don’t give a shit how I grew up. I give a shit right now, Mason. And you’re trying to run from me.”
“I’m not running,” he said. “I’m walking.”
He backed up and started to walk down the hallway.
HATE ME AGAIN: a bad boy romance novel Page 17