Author: Cheryl McIntyre

Park sighs. “I may make more shitty comments in the near future, but I don’t mean any of them. Just ignore them, or punch me, or something.”

I laugh weakly. “All right. Deal.”

“I’m gonna go back inside. I think your boyfriend wants to either kick my ass or talk to you.” He smiles ruefully. “Probably both.”

I look up at the door where Mason paces in and out of view, hands on hips. I can’t help the way my body relaxes at the sight of him even when he’s obviously aggravated with me.

Park opens the door and he and Mason slide past one another as if the other doesn’t exist. I lean against the house, the siding flexing with the pressure from my back.

“You all right?” Mason asks. He stops in front of me, his shoes on either side of mine, and he smoothes his palms across my hips.

“I’m confused. You act like you can’t stand Park, but you feel bad for him. You want details when I talk to him, but it bothers you the way he’s hurting. The way I hurt him.”

Mason blinks slowly and steps back. “I do feel bad for him. It’s apparent he’s in pain. That doesn’t mean I can’t still dislike him.”

“And it’s my fault.”

He tilts his head, eyes grazing slowly over my features. His voice is soft, careful. “You’re the reason he’s in pain, but it’s not your fault. I don’t think blame can be assigned in a situation like this.”

I look away. “I knew it. I don’t know why I fooled myself into thinking it could be different.”

Mason’s grip tightens on my waist. “What does that mean?”

I can’t look at him. I won’t. “You see it. The real me. The fuck up.” I huff out a small laugh. “I knew it wouldn’t last.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” His voice is angry now and I don’t know why it surprises me.

“This is what I do. I hurt people.” I take a breath, but I can’t breathe. “It’s in my blood. My mom, she turned Guy’s uncle, Donnie, into an alcoholic. She ruined him. He wanted to help her, and she killed him. All he wanted was to help her change, but she changed him. She was good at one thing, Mace, hurting people. That’s what she always did. It’s what I’ll always do.”

He shakes his head, disgusted. “Why are you letting someone else’s past decide your future?” His words rake over me like gravel. “First off, I’m pretty damn sure it’s not possible to turn someone into an alcoholic. Donnie had to do that to himself. And your mom didn’t kill him. He was driving.”

I look up quickly at that. “Guy told me,” he says. “His uncle made his own decisions, Hope. Your mom didn’t force him. And yes, Park is hurt over you. He loves you and wants to be with you, but you didn’t try to cause him pain. I can relate to him because I love you and I can imagine what it would feel like if I lost you. You’re not a fuck up. I hate to break it to you, but you are completely normal. And you’re beautiful. The problem isn’t who you are. It’s who you think you are.”

“Ugh.” I push him away from me because that speech felt too good. I want to lean into him and allow his words to consume me. “Don’t call me that.”

“What? Beautiful? I don’t want to be afraid to tell you how I feel. I think you’re beautiful. I can’t help that. I love you. You will always be beautiful to me. I know that word means something awful and ugly for you, but fuck that. Fuck him. Don’t let a pedophile ruin who you are. Don’t let him have that kind of power over you. Be your own kind of beautiful. Give it your own meaning. I’m going to tell you every day until you see you how I see you. Until you know who you really are.”

There’s a denial on the tip of my tongue, but Mason swallows it with a kiss. “Shh. Stop pushing me away. I don’t want to keep fighting you. Just accept that I care about you too much to go anywhere.”

“I don’t know how,” I whisper into his skin.

“Then I’ll show you. Every single day.”

“That’s a long time.”

He nods, his head moving against mine. “Forever.”

“Why Mason?” I plead. “Why me? I need to know.”

“I don’t know, Hope. Life is funny that way, I guess. I mean, I walked through the world, passing this person, and that person. And nothing meant anything to me. Everything, everyone was just a blur in my peripheral. And then I saw you. I saw you. I don’t know why you. And I’m not going to question it because I’m afraid that maybe if I gnaw at it too much, I’ll mess with whatever happy fate made this happen. If that’s not enough, there’s always this.” He tilts my head back and brings his mouth to mine softly.

“I don’t want to be like this. All…” I shake my head, searching for the right words. “Scared and insecure all the time.”

“Then don’t be.” His thumb glides across my lip and I look up, meeting his green eyes. “Trust me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” I say very slowly. My mind is racing. “I don’t trust me. There is only so much of me you’re going to be able to take. At some point, you are going to hit your limit. I’m going to keep having these insane freak outs and pushing you and you are going to get sick of me.”

He laughs loudly, his eyes crinkling, the dimple winking at me. “Never gonna happen. I kind of like your freak outs. Or the part where I calm you down.”

I open my mouth to argue, because it’s what I do, but he shakes his head and smothers my words with another kiss. “Just shut up.”

Chapter 33

Mason

The band finally got their practice in after I talked Hope back into the basement. Park and I were on our best behavior, which means we ignored each other really well. I figure at some point we’re probably going to have to acknowledge the other’s existence, but for now, our arrangement works.

Hope’s been writing lyrics across my arms since everyone took off to get ready. Her writing is small and stick like and I have to squint to read it. I keep going back to the lines on the back of my hand. I’m done counting days. Now because of you I’m making the days count.

I wonder if it’s part of a song already or if she’s composing on my skin. The idea makes me smile and my heart beat faster. I’m also curious if I’m the inspiration behind those words. If so, it’s awfully ironic because the same is true for me. Since I’ve met Hope, my life actually counts for something. I’m not just filling the hours. Now I’m enjoying them. I’m making plans. I’m thinking about the future and liking what I’m imagining. Life is good.

I kiss the top of her hair, inhaling her shampoo. Mangos. Funny how someone who doesn’t like fruit always smells like it.

I pull my wrist up to see her newest addition. Sometimes when I’m kissing you, I forget. She wraps her fingers around my wrist, shielding the line, and brings her mouth to mine. Her fingers comb my hair back from my forehead. “Don’t read them right now. When you go home tonight to change, read them then.”

I nod. “Okay. Are these from songs?”

She bites her lip and I nuzzle her neck, urging her to talk to me. “Guy has this music he’s been holding onto for awhile. It’s meant to be the big love ballad. He’s pushed me to put lyrics to it since he got it finished, but I couldn’t.” She ducks her head into my shoulder. I feel her teeth graze against my tee shirt.

“This is them,” she whispers. “It’s your song.”

I pull back, trying to look at her, but she comes with me, keeping her face hidden. “My song? You wrote me a love ballad?” My stomach pulls tight and my throat feels raw. Everything feels raw. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so cut open. How can she be mine? I don’t deserve her. She wrote me a song. She wrote me a freaking song. I want to read every word on my body right this very second.

“Hope, look at me.” I push her back as gently as I can, detangling her fingers from my shirt.

“I’m embarrassed.”

“Why? I love it. I don’t even have to know what it says or how it sounds. I love it. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“It’s me. It’s everything I am. Everything I feel. Things I’ve never felt before. I’m putting it out there. It’s scary.” She tries to hide again, but I grab her face and make her look at me.

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I don’t care what anyone else thinks about it and neither should you.” I kiss her and sigh. “I cannot believe you seriously wrote a song for me.”

She smiles. “You’re great motivation.”

“When will I get to hear it?”

Hope glares at her hands, fisted in her lap. “I don’t know. I don’t want to ask Park to sing it.”

“You can sing it,” I suggest carefully. I love when she sings.

“I hate singing. I don’t like everyone looking at me.” She shakes her head, her hair flaring around her. “I should have Guy sing it since it’s his music.”

“Can Guy sing?”

“Not to save his life,” she says with a grin. “Dogs can’t even listen to him.”

“So I’ll never get to hear it?” The thought is so depressing I can’t help the frown from forming.

With her first finger, she softly smoothes the crease between my brows. “I’ll sing it for you. I promise. I’m just not ready yet. I wrote it, and that was hard and... I love you. Can’t that be enough for now?”

“It’s more than enough. I want to hear it, but I can wait.” I kiss her again. I can’t stop kissing her. “You’re the best girlfriend,” I murmur between kisses.

“That reminds me,” she says standing up. “I have something for you. I’ll be right back. Don’t...go anywhere.”

I chuckle and lean back against the wall, my hands behind my head. “I’ll be here.” I grin and wink at her. Her cheeks turn a soft shade of pink before she runs up the stairs.

As soon as she’s gone, I obviously look at my arms. I don’t read everything because she asked me to wait, but it’s torture to have it right here and not at least take a peek. My breath catches as I read the words. You’ve turned my wounds into wisdom, teaching me to learn from my mistakes. Which ones are mine, and which were out of my control.

I hear her footsteps overhead, so I lean back in the position I was in when she left. “All right, it’s nothing big, but I saw it at the store with Annie the other day and it made me think of you. So—here.” She holds out a plastic shopping bag and I take it. My movements are slow because I wasn’t expecting her to buy me something. Even when she said she had something for me I just thought it was candy or something, because, well, it’s Hope.

Inside the bag is a small box. I look from it to Hope and back again. My hand is shaking as I reach inside and if I could, I’d kick my own ass for acting so ridiculous. With a deep breath, that I hope she doesn’t notice, I take the lid off the box.

A shiny silver pick catches the overhead light, blinking at me. A cursive M is printed in a metallic blue in the center. I take it out and run my thumb over it. “This is awesome, Hope. Thank you.”

“Flip it over,” she says quietly and instantly I know that whatever is on the back is important just from the level of her voice. I turn it over and smile. The words take these broken wings are gently engraved into the back. Blackbird. Her song. My song. Our song.

“Marry me,” I say and I’m only half joking. “You are seriously the coolest person ever.”

She laughs and I stand up, pulling her in for a hug. I have a beautiful girlfriend who writes me a song and gives me this awesome gift for no other reason than she saw it and thought of me. I love that she thought of me.