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me to turn away. I didn’t turn back until I heard the door click shut.
Mason remained in the center of the room, watching me. I knew he
was waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t have any words
for him at the moment. He had hurt me too. When I was ready, I
would have a few choice words for him as well.
Then my mother returned with the doctor.
He said I was good to go home.
“If you feel strange or light-headed in any way, come back and
see me,” he said. I nodded. Then he signed his name at the bottom
of the discharge paper. “You should rest up for a few days. You
have a few bruised ribs, so keep your activity to a minimum for at
least a few weeks,” he said and walked out. My mother started to
pack up my things, then handed me a bag of clean clothes to
change into.
When we got to the house, Mason asked my mother for permission to come in. She was quick to tell him to go home, but when she saw my face, she allowed him in.
“I’ll make a pot of tea ,” she told me as she walked down the hall. “Shall I bring it up?”
“Yes, please.” I thanked her and continued up to my room with Mason’s assistance.
“You looked amazing in that dress by the way,” he said, sitting on my bed.
“Thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes. I wanted to forget that night had ever happened. “You did too.” I sat next to him. “Why couldn’t you just tell me how you felt?” My hands fiddled with the hem on my sweater.
“Because I’m an idiot,” he laughed.
“Well”—I laughed— “I kind of figured that out.”
“Sorry,” he smiled.
“Seriously, Mason.” I turned, lifting my leg on the bed so I could face him.
“The last time I allowed myself to love, it destroyed me. I couldn’t allow it to happen again,” he said, looking down at the carpet.
“You thought that I would hurt you?” I scoffed, and took his hand in mine. “I so did not get that from your actions.”
“No.” His breath shuddered. “I knew you were different.”
“Then why leave?” I asked.
His shoulders slouched. “I wasn’t ready. I knew that if I stayed and continued on the path we were on, I would end up hurting you. I couldn’t live with myself if I did.” His breath hitched.
“But you hurt me anyway,” I replied.
“It was a different kind of hurt.” He looked up at me. “That kind of hurt is forgivable.”
