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“Bullshit!” I roar, interrupting her again, and her eyes widen. “Why won’t you invite me over to your house? Why can’t I meet your mother?”
Her eyes shift downward, and she nervously wrings out her hands. A deathly silence swarms around us as the tension in the air becomes so thick it’s almost suffocating.
Her eyes meet might, pleading. “My mother… it’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?” I demand. “Explain it to me.”
“I-I can’t.” Her voice cracks. “I’m not ready to talk about it.”
“You’re not ready to talk to me, but you can talk to Logan about it?” I fire back.
“What’s he got to do with this?”
“Everything,” I utter, looking away and exhaling an agitated breath before meeting her gaze again. “Do you still love him?”
Her eyes well up. “Mason. Please—”
“Tell me,” I grit out. “Do. You. Still. Love. Him?”
“I don’t know!” she cries, blinking back tears.
“You don’t know?” I bark incredulously. “It’s a yes or no question. You either do, or you don’t.”
“I don’t know, okay? I was with him for a long time and losing him hurt. Things happened between us so fast, Mason. I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t expecting you to come along and make me feel this way—” She pauses, inhaling a shaky breath. “I’m just so confused about everything.”
“I can’t do this,” I mutter bitterly, shaking my head. “I can’t be that guy.”
“What guy?”
“That guy!” I yell, throwing my hands up. “The one in-between. I can’t be your rebound. Or your fling. I can’t be your dirty little secret anymore.”
“You’re not.”
“Aren’t I?” I look at her deadpan. “You said yourself that you are confused with how you feel. Well, guess what? I’m not! I know exactly how I feel.” I start pacing as my chest tightens and my emotions boil over. “Don’t you get it? I’m in love with you! I’m fucking in love with you, and I can’t just be something to pass the time.”
“Y-you’re not,” she chokes out a sob as tears stream down her face. She takes a step toward me, and I hold out my hand to stop her.
“Don’t,” I warn.
Hurt flashes across her eyes for a brief second before narrowing with rage.
“My mother is an alcoholic, okay?” she screams, and my stomach instantly plummets. “My dad is never around, and my homelife is absolute living hell! I’m embarrassed and ashamed of it. I was going to tell you eventually, but I just needed more time. Well, now you know. Sweet perfect little Ava Richards is not so perfect after all. She has an abusive mother, a father who doesn’t give a shit about her, and her life is a mess. Is this what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?”
Her shoulders heave as she sobs into her hand, and my heart shatters into a million pieces seeing her so distraught. I have never felt like such a bastard in my life as I do right now. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Ava,” I murmur painfully, my throat tightening as I walk toward her. Her eyes shoot up, glaring at me in disgust, and she holds her hand up, halting me as I did to her.
“Don’t,” she hisses, backing away.
“Flower… I’m so fucking sorry,” I croak.
She shakes her head and turns on her heel, running up the stairs and slamming the basement door with such force the sound vibrates through the walls.
Running my hands over my face, I turn back to my punching bag and start attacking it. I punch and punch like a madman, grunting and growling in exertion. I punch until my lungs burn, and I can no longer lift my arms.
Hugging the bag and resting my forehead against it as I try to catch my breath, an aching regret claws at my chest.
What have I done?
