Promise Me Not

Mason

Before, July

My hands are trembling with rage, my joints aching from how tense I’ve been clenching them for the twenty-minute ride back to Nate’s.

My eyes keep jumping to the broken little blond in the back seat. She hasn’t noticed me staring, she’s so far gone right now, stuck in her own head that must be full of nightmares at this point. She’s dealt with so much in such a short span of time.

All in a month’s time, she discovered she was pregnant, found the courage to escape a toxic home, got confronted by the boy she left behind, lost the boy she left behind when he came for her, and then her mother, who she ran away from, tried to rip her from her home just hours after.

I could not believe the way that woman acted toward Payton. Never in my life have I ever witnessed a parent act that way.

She spoke as if her baby girl didn’t just have her heart ripped from her chest, if only from the guilt alone. From what I’ve learned about Payton, Deaton was the only person she had in her corner back home. She was more or less alone.

I’ll be fucking damned if she ever feels that way again.

But now this?

I’m seconds from shoving my fist though the window from the mere look of defeat on her pretty face.

This just confirms what I’d already began to suspect. Deaton’s family is as bad, if not worse, than her mother. I mean, goddamn. Who the fuck sends a photo of a casket holding the boy who passed to the girl who lost him…after refusing to include her in his funeral? I thought it was the lowest they could get, keeping it a secret just so she couldn’t be there, but this?

This is some twisted psychological warfare.

My eyes lift again, her blank expression causing my pulse to pound heavy in my ears.

She’s being mentally tortured, and it’s killing me in ways I can hardly understand. It’s deeper than I have words for and heavier than I would have thought possible. I quite literally feel the ache she’s gotten good at hiding, and she is hiding.

Pretty Little’s trying to be so strong, fighting the voices screaming in her head.

I wish I knew what they were saying so I could find a way to stop them. I would take it all away if I knew how.

By the time we pull up to the house, my nerves are on fire.

Everyone opens their doors but me, and when I look up in the mirror this time, Payton’s eyes lift, latching on to mine. For a split second, her mask crumbles, her pretty face contorting with pain. Her blue eyes are begging for something, but I don’t think either one of us knows what it is she’s asking for, and then she blinks.

Just like that, the mask is back, and she’s climbing from the Tahoe. Payton avoids everyone’s gaze, and we all hurry after, Parker tugging me back to allow a few feet of space as if not to spook her. I shrug him off but stay at his side, looking his way when his arm comes down on my shoulder.

We follow behind, her feet picking up speed until she’s separated herself from us completely, the door to the room she’s been staying in shutting with a soft click.

A split second later, a shrill scream fills the air, reverberating across every wall and slamming into my eardrums like knifes, cutting me, making me bleed. At least that’s how it feels. Like a physical pain without a wound.

I do the only thing I can think of.

I send a message in our group thread.

Me: Mama. You need to come. Payton’s breaking and I don’t know how to fix it.

I stare at my screen, and not five seconds later, Dad’s response comes through.

Dad: on our way, son.

The smallest of weights lift from my shoulders, and for the next hour, we sit around, the others in the kitchen, Parker and I taking turns pacing the space in front of Payton’s door. He walks off a few times, but I can’t bring myself to move. It’s not until my sister comes back for the third time to offer me something to drink that I climb from my spot on the floor and follow her toward the others.

I’m not in there for five seconds when another angry cry rips from down the hall.

We wince in unison, unsure of what the right thing to do would be but needing to do something.

“This isn’t good for her.” Chase shakes his head, his face taut with unease.

I drag my hands down my face to keep from matching her screams, the helplessness eating me up too damn much. My sister shuffles closer, and I look her way, finding the same broken expression written across her face.

I know what she’s going to say before she says it. It’s not a twin thing either, it’s a we were blessed with a family who is there for us always thing. I try to offer a reassuring smile. “They’re already on their way.”

My smile does nothing for either of us, and when her eyes begin to mist over, I wrap my arms around her with a sigh.

“Is she going to be okay?” Ari asks.

“Yeah,” I assure her, even when I have no clue if it’s the truth. How could she possibly be okay after all this? Anger cuts through me, and my jaw clenches.

“What mother would hide something like this?” she whispers.

“She’s not a mother.” I glare at the ocean outside the large bay window. Mrs. Vermont is as bad as Payton’s mom. “She’s a heartless bitch. Payton is carrying a piece of that woman’s son.” I shake my head in disbelief, knowing how my parents would treat her if it was their grandchild she was carrying. Shit, how they will treat her now when she’s but a friend. “She should be worshiping the girl, begging for forgiveness for treating her like shit their entire relationship.” I swallow. “She’s not a mother.”

With that, I go back to my spot on the floor beside Payton’s door. I’m not sure if I fall asleep or if my mind is running so fast that the time has lapsed, but the next thing I know, my mama’s face is in front of me, her soft hand on my arm.

“I’ve got her, baby. You can take a break.”

My head falls back to the wall, and I stare at the best woman I know. The most selfless and kindhearted soul, the woman who made my sister the angel she is. Heat pricks at my eyes, and my mom’s face falls. She cups my cheek, staring at me as if she sees something I can’t. Knows something I don’t.

“Oh, honey,” she finally whispers, holds on a second longer, then kisses my temple.

Slowly, she stands and slips inside Payton’s room.

I roll to the side, pressing my ear to the door to listen, my heart pounding in my chest.

Will she be angry?

Kick my mom out?

Scream and yell and want to leave because not one of us knows how to mind our own business in this house? Because we don’t. We’re meddling motherfuckers and probably always will be.

Soft whispers reach me, followed by soft cries, but these are different. They’re tears you shed when there’s someone there to hold you through the pain.

I want to hold you…

I blink at the thought, my back going ramrod straight as the realization slaps me in the face.

I want to be the one to hold her.

Oh.

Shit.

Payton’s door opens, and my mom slips out, her eyes slightly puffy and a look of exhaustion tainting her soft features.

“How is she?” I wince at the stupid question.

Obviously, the answer is real fucking shitty. Still, my mom offers a smile. “She slept for a while.” When she lifts the plate in her hand, I see it’s still piled high with my dad’s cooking. “She didn’t even take a bite.”

“She has to eat.”

“She will, baby. Just not right now. I left some snacks by her bed, just in case. Water and some candy.”

I nod, my eyes closing for a moment, and when I open them, both my parents are standing there, staring down at me with soft expressions.

“I take it you’re not headed back to the house with the others tonight?” my dad asks.

I shake my head. “Nate won’t care if I camp out on the couch.” Or right here.

My dad’s knowing smile tells me he’s fully aware of what I didn’t say.

“Mase…” my mom begins, but Dad wraps his arm around her, and they share one of those parent looks. When she faces me, her smile is a gentle, slightly concerned one. “I’ll come check on her later today before we decide if we’re heading back home or not, okay?”

I nod, climbing to my feet to hug them both, and watch them disappear around the corner. After I hear the gang say their goodbyes, Nate, Lolli, and Parker appear. They don’t say anything, just nod as they shuffle by like zombies and close themselves inside their rooms.

The house goes quiet, and suddenly I’m wide awake. I look to my phone to find it’s well past four in the morning. We’ve been up all night.

Sighing, no sooner do I settle against the pillow my dad propped behind me at some point and close my eyes than a muffled sound comes from inside the room.

Footsteps pad across the carpet, and I jump to my feet, my hand wrapping around the knob. I wait a moment, then gently rap my knuckles against it. She doesn’t say not to come in, so I cautiously turn my wrist, pushing it open to find her sitting in the chair in front of the window.

There’s not much to look at from this angle, but she can at least see the light starting to peek through the darkened sky. When she turns my way, there’s a definitive thunk thunk in my chest, and I rub at the spot.

Her cheeks are blotched red, her big blue eyes low and defeated, but when her lip curls into a small smile and she says, “I knew it was you,” a tiny spark flickers across her eyes.

I force a smirk I don’t feel and put more pep in my step than I feel. “Oh yeah, and did you know I was coming in here to steal you away?”

She stares a moment, and tension wraps around my shoulders as I prepare for her to tell me to leave, but she doesn’t do that.

Payton stands, slides her feet into a pair of fluffy slippers, and walks past me. She pauses at the door, finds me over her shoulder, and says, “I hoped as much.”

With that, she walks out, and I hurry after her.

Like a couple of kids doing something they shouldn’t be, we tiptoe toward the front and silently slip out the door. We’re loaded in my Tahoe and out onto the road in less than a minute.

She doesn’t ask where we’re going, and I don’t feel the need to fill the silence in the car, so we sit in it all the way to the only place open around here at this time of night. Or morning, technically…Peppy’s Diner.

Inside, we find a booth in the back corner and sit down.

Payton looks around the place, taking in how busy and loud the diner is at this hour, and finally, a smile she doesn’t force tips her lips.

She needed a little chaos to pause her own.

“Okay.” She looks up, a little light in her gorgeous eyes. “I say we get stuffed pancakes…and the cheese pizza.”

A laugh leaves me, and something stirs in my stomach when her mouth curves even higher.

The cheese pizza here is disgusting, probably microwaved, and I don’t think this girl has ever eaten stuffed carbs in her life, but I couldn’t disagree with her if I wanted to.

So long as I have a say, she’s getting exactly what she wants. Always.

It’s not until the untouched pancakes are cold, the last piece of pizza hanging from her fingertips that she sighs and looks my way again.

“I haven’t told anyone yet, but…” She stares into my eyes. “I’m keeping the baby.”

The conviction in her tone is gripping, and I stare right back. “It means a lot that you trust me enough to tell me.”

Her lips twitch, and she nods.

“We’ll all support you in this, you know. No matter what,” I add.

She nods again. “This is what I want, and not just because⁠—”

Not just because Deaton died.

Reaching across the table, I put my hand out, and tentatively, she presses her palm to mine. I give her a little squeeze, trying to pretend like I’m not all tied up at the fact that she told me before she told anyone else when I am.

“The reason is yours alone, Pretty Little. You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone.”

Her face softens, and then a large smile blooms across her pillowed lips.

“What?”

“I was sitting here wondering what you were going to say after I told you, and the conversation we had in my head went a lot like this.”

A low chuckle leaves me, and I sit back when she reaches for her fork and stabs into the ice-cold flapjacks, cutting off and taking a giant bite. I watch her every move, a smile tipping my lips.

“Nice to know I’m predictable,” I tease, unable to find the strength to look away from the girl and not wanting to regardless.

“Not predictable.” She speaks low, her eyes coming back to mine. “Just…Mason,” she says as if it explains it all. She looks out the window then, the sun having officially risen.

I raise a dark brow, and when an airy laugh leaves her, I feel like I’m fucking flying.

She’s feeling a little better, and I had a hand in that. Me.

From there, the conversation switches to random topics, and I sit back, indulging her every question, happy to be the center of the distraction she’s after.

It’s not until we’re parked outside Nate’s that her spirit dims again. It’s in the way she hesitates in the passenger seat, staring at the porch of the beach house in heavy defeat.

“I never got to tell him,” she whispers suddenly, her chest expanded with a strangled breath. “Deaton died not knowing what I was going to do.”

“He knew.” Her eyes come to mine, and I lean closer. “He loved you, Payton.” I hold her gaze steadily, and her lips tremble through a broken smile. “He knew.”

Slowly, she nods, and her muscles ease before my eyes, as if reassurance from my lips is enough to help put her mind at ease, if only for a little while. “Thanks, Mase. You’re a good friend.”

What if I want to be more?