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)
“How can you be okay with that?”
“Payton,” he murmurs, holding my gaze with his steady, unwavering one. “No one will love that little boy more than us, and Mason? He is part of us now.”
“If that’s true, that means your little boy will grow up and call someone else daddy.”
“Not someone else.” Deaton’s thumb grazes along my cheek. “Him.”
“That’s not fair to you.”
He takes the picture in my hand, lifting it between us. He doesn’t speak until my eyes fall to meet my baby boy’s. “I helped make him. He helped bring him into this world.” My gaze comes back to his. “That seems pretty equal to me.”
I break down again, sobbing and falling into him, wishing I could feel the warmth of his arms around me.
“Don’t cry,” he whispers. “I’m okay here. In your memory. Just think of me sometimes, and I’ll never be gone.”
“Don’t go.”
“It’s time to wake up now. He’s scared. And he needs you.”
His support is unwavering, and finally, I nod.
“Goodbye, Payton…”
My eyes flick open, and I gasp, pushing my torso off the grass.
I look to the headstone, to the photo of Deaton on the grass beside me, and then something calls my eyes to the curb, just in time to see Chase’s truck rolling to a stop.
I push onto my knees in confusion, but the door opens a moment later, and Mason steps out.
I collapse all over again, a complete and total wreck, but something drags me to my feet. It’s strong and unfamiliar. It carries me across the grass, and it doesn’t stop until I’m falling forward.
Mason catches me with open arms, twining them so tight around me, I know this is it. That there’s no escaping, no running, no pushing.
The cables have connected, the metal has melted, the fractured pieces fusing together and shaping anew.
“Shh,” he soothes. “It’s okay, Pretty Little. You’re okay. This is my fault.”
I try to shake my head, but I’m pressed too tight against him.
“I didn’t mean to push you or guilt you into coming here. I should have left you to come here when you were ready.” He pulls me impossibly tighter. “I just keep fucking up, and I need to sit back—”
“I love you.”
Mason’s body turns to stone.
Ever so slowly, he lifts his head, and when our eyes lock, it’s like the world tilts on its axis. The mountains shift, and the skies open up, and when the sun does quite literally break through the November clouds, as if only shining on us, the barest hint of wind pressing at my back, pushing me to him, I know it’s right.
That Deaton is here with us, telling me it’s okay. That this is okay.
“Baby…” His mouth moves as if to speak the words, but no actual sound comes out as he waits as though wondering if he conjured them up in his head.
So I say them again, louder, my every focus on him and him alone.
“I love you, Mason. More than I knew I was capable of. More than I knew was possible. And more than I was ready for, but I’m…I’m ready now.”
Mason shakes against me, his hands coming up and gripping my face, holding my eyes on his.
“I’m yours, Mason.”
“Mine?” he dares in a broken whisper. “You’re standing here, in this place of all places, and telling me that you’re mine?”
I nod.
“You understand what that means, don’t you?” His eyes are piercing. “If you’re mine, he’s mine, too.”
My lips quiver, and I nod again.
“Payton.” He shakes, swallowing hard as moisture builds in his brown eyes. “I need to know you understand what that means. I need to know even if you change your mind one day, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you won’t, but if you do…I need to know he’ll still be mine. I can’t lose him, Payton. I will not lose that little boy.”
“I understand.” My voice trembles with the truth. “He’s just as much yours as he is mine.”
Mason clenches his jaw, giving a jerky nod. “He is. He’s mine, too.”
I cry, wrapping my arms around his neck, and Mason buries his face in mine.
I don’t know how long we stand there, but when a car door opens, we pull apart, just in time to watch as Chase lifts Deaton from his car seat.
My hand shoots to my mouth to hold the sob in, and Mason takes my other, giving me a gentle squeeze.
“We picked him up from Aunt Sarah on the way here,” he whispers. “I hope that’s okay.”
I nod, gaze glued on Deaton. His tiny shoes hit the grass, and like the pro he’s quickly become, he breaks into a wobbly run. Relief and resignation have my throat clogging as he marches this way, not stopping until his arms are locking around Mason’s leg.
A scratchy chuckle escapes Mason, and he bends, lifting Deaton into his arms, and when Mason comes to his full height, both my boys look at me.