Author: Cheryl McIntyre

“I don’t like this growing up shit.”

I lean forward until my head touches his chest. I love the way he smells. It’s not something I can identify, it’s just this great smell that makes me feel safe. I feel my eyes burn. “Yeah. Me neither.”

5

Mason

Waking up to the sound of Hope singing in the shower is the best part of my day. I love the way the smell of her shampoo fills the small apartment. I didn’t realize I was missing anything, but ever since she moved in twelve days ago, I can’t imagine my life any different. How did I sleep in this bed before her scent was on the sheets? Before she was curled into my side every night. Before finding loose strands of her brightly colored hair on my pillow. It seems impossible that I managed to make it through each day without these small, yet consequential pieces of life.

I rub the sleep from my eyes and my gaze lands on the cello in the corner. Every time I look at it, my heart skips a beat. I glance at the open closet, Hope’s clothes shoved in next to mine. Our closet.

“What are you smiling about?” Hope asks, gliding into the room wrapped in a towel. Her hair is dripping down her back and I need to trace the trail the water’s made. I grab her hand as she passes and drag her into bed with me. I caress her back. She laughs and I roll us both until I’m on top of her.

“Good morning,” I say quietly.

“I love your sleepy voice,” she sighs. Her fingers work into my hair and I close my eyes. I fucking love that. My life is so close to perfect. It’s scary as hell.

I press my hand into her stomach, spreading my fingers across the towel. She shakes her head. “Don’t start.” Her voice is breathless and I know she doesn’t really mean it. “We’re supposed to be at the house by noon.”

I smirk at her deviously. “We have plenty of time.”

Her hand on my chest stops my advance towards her neck. “I have to make the pies.” She swallows and my eyes are drawn to the delicate movement of her throat. I want to put my lips there so badly.

She pushes against me and I roll off her with a loud groan. “Fine. Go make pie, but I better get a piece of yours as soon as we get home.”

She pauses halfway to the closet and spins around. Without warning, she pounces on me, forcing the breath from my lungs.

“Say it again,” Hope whispers against my cheek.

“Ugh. What?” I croak. Her knee may have grazed a testicle. I may never be capable of having children or walking normal again. “That I want a piece of your pie? I think I tell you that every day.” I adjust her leg, moving it away from the boys, and finally look at her face. Her eyes are bright with excitement and she’s smiling widely.

I love her smile.

“The part about home—as soon as we get home.”

Jesus. This is why I love this girl. I grip her cheeks and kiss her deeply. “Our home,” I say against her lips. “Our bedroom.” I kiss her again. “Our bed.”

“Our pie?”

I laugh. “No, that’s just mine.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

I clasp her fingers, sliding them down my body, and rest her hand in my crotch. “You get this.”

She sits up and moves the blanket separating us. “I hope we can find a grocery store that’s open on Thanksgiving.”

“I’m sure we can. Why?”

She opens the towel, letting it drop around her. “Because I’m going to have to buy pumpkin pies.”

I grin at her as I trace her curves with my fingertips. “I thought you were making them homemade?”

She shakes her head slowly. Moving to her knees, she hooks her fingers into the waist of my boxers. “I’m not going to have time for that.”

*******

After we get home from dinner at Hope’s family’s, I try to call Mom and Kellin. It’s the first holiday I’ve ever spent without them and I find myself missing them a lot. Especially my little brother.

I haven’t talked to them since Kel came to visit in October. I took him back to Chicago after the weekend visit and Mom and I got into another argument. She’s hurt I’m sticking with my choice to stay in Ohio—that I chose Hope. She isn’t able to understand how I can love someone that has a mental illness. What she just doesn’t get is Hope’s self-harming is such a small part of who she is. But besides that, it is a sickness.

I asked Mom if she would question it if I found out Hope had cancer. “That’s completely different,” she said.

“How?” I countered. “Explain to me how it’s any different.”

“Because nobody asks for cancer.”

“She didn’t ask to be molested! She didn’t ask for a shitty mom that didn’t take care of her! She found a way to deal with it. Yes, it’s a really fucked up way, but she knows that. She wants to stop.”

Mom shook her head at me like she pitied her idiot son. “She makes the choice to hurt herself. It’s not healthy, Mace. She’s going to break your heart. You’re too young to deal with such big things.”

“We’re going to counseling,” I said. “We’re getting help.” We hadn’t started at the time, but I didn’t explain that. We took the steps. We made the appointments. That’s what mattered.

“Both of you?”

“Yes,” I hissed. “I’m getting the help I should have gotten when Dad died. But you didn’t think I could deal with that either.” I laughed dryly. “No. You’re great idea was to move. And move. And move. And move again. And mo—”

“I get it,” she said, cutting me off with a wave of her hand. “I’m glad you’re getting help.”

“That’s it?”

“What else do you want?” she asked incredulously.

I rubbed my face and laughed again. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing, Mom. I already have everything I need.”

And then I left.

I didn’t even say bye to Kellin.

The truth is I do need them. I’m happy as hell here with Hope, but there is a piece missing in my life. So damn close to perfect.

If only I could hear their voices.

But the call goes to voicemail and I hang up without leaving a message. I don’t even know what to say at this point.

6

Hope

I should’ve looked at the caller ID. I almost always do. I don’t know why I didn’t this time. I guess it was my grogginess.

“Why are you answering my son’s phone at three thirty in the morning?” Mason’s mom, Gabbie, asks again.

I nudge Mason until he stirs beside me. I hold the phone out to him. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Your mom.” His eyes go wide and he sits up quickly. I know he’s worried something bad happened. It’s part of losing a family member unexpectedly—every out of the ordinary phone call scares the shit out of you.

I touch his arm reassuringly. I know everything’s all right. She wouldn’t have taken the time to yell at me if Kellin was hurt. From the hour, I’m guessing she just got off work. Bartending doesn’t provide the best work hours.

“Hello?” His voice is thick with sleep and emotion. I rub gentle shapes into his back. I feel him tense under my palm and I pause.

“Because she lives here.”

I watch Mason rub his face. His hand drops to his leg and he sighs, the sound full of irritation. “Because I’m eighteen. This is my apartment. I can move anybody in I want.”

I strain to hear what she’s saying, but I can’t make it out. Probably better I can’t anyway. The woman loathes me.

“Because I love her!”

He jumps out of the bed and paces the room, one hand on his hip, the other clutching the phone so tightly I’m afraid it’ll shatter.

He stops abruptly and his eyes meet mine. They’re so full of shock and hurt my heart stutters in my chest as I stand up. He grabs my shoulder and hauls me into his chest.

“You can’t keep him away from me.”

My eyes close as I realize what’s happening. This is my fault.

“Mom…please.” His voice cracks and I pull back. He shakes his head and yanks me against him.

“Fine. I guess you haven’t fucked with his life enough. Let’s just add one more fucking thing you can take away from him.”

“I’ll say anything I want. I’m an adult—something you can’t seem to understand.”

“No. Don’t put this on her. You’re doing this. Kellin is safer with us than he is with you. At least with me he gets stability.”

“She would never hurt him.”

And I can’t take anymore. I shove him away and go to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

Shit.

Shit.

She’s right. She’s totally right. Mason just can’t see it because he’s blinded by his feelings for me.

I have to make this better. I have to do better. No more skipping appointments. I have to get better.

I close the toilet lid and sit heavily. He’s lost everything because of me.

Me.

I am nothing. I’m nobody.

He deserves so much better.

He finally gets quiet and I hold my breath.

“Hope,” he calls from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”

I lean forward and flip the lock. His eyes dart over me, looking for cuts and bruises. I shake my head, unable to tell him I didn’t do it. I didn’t hurt myself.

“I’m sorry,” he utters as he drops in front of me. His arms wrap around my waist and he pulls me into his lap.

“Why are you sorry?” I whisper. I should be the one apologizing. Not him.

Not him.

“I shouldn’t have done that in front of you.” He swings his hand into the wall behind him, hitting it hard. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. She’s being stupid. She’ll get over it.”

“Mason.” I force his chin toward me. I want him to look at me. To understand. “Your mom is not being stupid. She has every right to keep Kellin away from me after he—after he saw me burn myself. I can go back home. Jenny said anytime. I can move out right now.”

He shoves his hands into my hair, holding me in place. “This is your home. Here. With me. Please don’t leave me, Hope. Please. You’re my whole life and I can’t lose you. Not after…”

He trails off and I know what he isn’t saying. Not after everything he’s already lost. Everything he gave up. For me.

I brush his hair out of his eyes soothingly. “Shh. It’s okay. I won’t go. Just tell me how to make it better.”

His arms tighten around me. “Just stay. Just hold onto me.”

I press my mouth to his and grip him as firmly as I can. Dear Buddha, I love this man so much. It wasn’t long ago when I was asking the same thing of him. He did it for me. I’ll do this for him. I’ll do anything for him.

“I love you,” I murmur.

“God, Hope. I love you too.”

7

Mason

“What if we rented a drum kit?” Guy asks as he accepts the bottle of water from Hope. “Would you play with us then?”

Hope sits down on the couch and tears open a bag of Starbursts. She hands him a few and I shake my head when she dips the bag toward me. “I think it’d be weird,” she says. “Park can barely hold a civil conversation with me and it’s been so long since we’ve even had a practice.”

Guy rolls his thumb around the cap and sighs. “Park is insane, Hope. He turns away every drummer. All of them. Either he insists they can’t keep a beat, or they don’t have enough experience, or they sweat too much.”

Hope laughs. “Sweat?”

Shaking his head, Guy holds up his hand. “That one’s true. Dude was dripping all over the floor. Dripping. And he doesn’t wear deodorant because ‘it’s bad for the environment.’ What’s bad for the environment is the way that guy smelled. Like old Thai food that sat out in the sun all day. It hurt to breathe.”