Promise Me Not

Payton

Before, February

“Bye!” I call over my shoulder, slipping out the gym double doors and coming to a complete stop.

Mason and his parents are all standing there with grins on their faces.

Vivian throws herself at me, hugging the life out of me, and Evan comes up next, his hug just as warm but less fierce than his wife’s.

“Someone’s missed you,” he teases as he pulls away.

“I don’t think it’s me she misses,” I joke back, and when Vivian claps her hands, eyes big and eager, I share an I told you so look with her husband.

“Can we go get him now?” she nearly begs, hands folded like in prayer and all.

I look to Mason, and he winks.

“She thought she’d get some kind of perk with Cam in the building, but they wouldn’t let any of us through the gate.” He frowns then. “You should really put me on the list Cam was talking about, just in case.”

“Sure thing, Superstar.” I chuckle, handing off my camera bag when he reaches for it. I turn to his parents. “What are you guys doing here?”

Vivian loops her arm in mine, a sneaky way to quicken my speed, and it warms my heart to know how much she cares for my son. Maybe even loves him in the way my own mother should.

Not that I’ll ever give her the chance.

Not that Vivian is his grandmother or anything but…

I swallow, shaking off the anxiousness threatening to slip in, and focus on the now.

And right now, I am happy to see them.

“Well, it’s been a while since we’ve made it down for a visit, and when we heard you were here, we figured we may as well come where you are and see our kids, too.”

“Hey,” Mason pretends to complain. “You’d rather see her than me and your sweet princess baby girl?”

“Oh, please.” His mother raises a brow, and I laugh as it looks so much like her son. “Noah is glued to Ari’s side after everything, and she likes it that way, and you…well, yeah, I’d rather snuggle with that baby boy and let you two run off and do you sort of things.”

My eyes snap to Mason’s.

Us sort of things.

Oh my god, she knows?

Wait. Knows what?

There’s nothing to know. Right?

As if he can read the jumbled thoughts I hardly process my damn self, Mason smirks and looks away. “That sounds a lot like an offer to babysit.”

“It is, even though I should want to punish you, you brat.”

“For what?” Mason gapes, blinking innocently.

“You know what! Don’t think your aunt didn’t call and rub it in my face.”

Mason goes stiff, eyes everywhere but on us. “Okay, Mom.”

His dad glances my way from the corner his my eye, and I grow even more suspicious.

“Don’t ‘okay, Mom’ me. My only baby boy went all the way to Alrick on his free time instead of coming home to see me?”

My head whips his way. He runs a hand over his hair, peeking at me briefly before shrugging off her words.

“It was…a quick trip. Sudden and—” He cuts off, swallowing.

“You went to Alrick?” I ask, unable to hold the question back.

When did he do that? We talk every night and every morning. We text throughout the day, most days anyway. He never said a word.

Sure, his aunt and uncle live there, and that’s where his cousin Nate grew up with Parker and me, but…he went to my hometown and didn’t tell me?

“Did you go to pick up some of Nate’s stuff, or Parker’s?”

He still won’t look at me, and then we’re in front of the child development center.

Clearing my throat, I tell the others I’ll be right back, running in to get Deaton.

He’s wide awake this time, and I lift his tiny self into my arms.

“Well, hello, handsome.” I rub my nose along his. “Someone is here to see you.”

“He is literally the cutest thing in history.” Cameron sighs, staring down at him with gleaming eyes. “I want one, but, like, not yet. I’ll just play with yours and the dozens in this class until then.”

Chuckling, I buckle him in his seat, and she rolls over the stroller, helping me lift and clip it into place.

“I take it Nana Johnson is stealing him?” She smirks.

“Nana?”

She shrugs. “Cute name for a grandma, don’t you think?” She smiles, then someone calls her name. “Duty calls. Literally.” She snags a diaper from the tray on the wall. “See you tomorrow!”

She takes off like nothing. Meanwhile, I’m halfway to panic, but when I step outside and join the others on the grass, the mere expression on, well, every single Johnson face is enough to drown it out.

It’s clear as day how much my son means to them.

They love him.

Mason loves him…

I swallow, catching his eye, but his smile quickly moves back to Deaton as his mom lifts him from the seat I just put him into.

“Okay, shoo.” She turns away from us. “Call me later. Or don’t. I assume all we need is in the bag.”

I open my mouth, but only a laugh comes out, and I nod. “I mean, yeah.” I look to Mason.

“You can’t have him all night.” He frowns. “I hardly got to play with him, and they leave tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh. Bye.” And off they go, my infant son in their arms.

My shoulders fall, and I sigh. “Well, shit.” I glance up at the man beside me. “What now?”

He frowns after them for a moment but then swings his head my way with a grin.

“I’ve got a few ideas.” He takes my hand, and I let him lead me where he wishes.

“Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes. Come on, girl. Get that booty in here before I lift and lower you myself.”

I chew my lip, eying the ATV with distrust. “There’s roll bars.”

“What are you, a girlie girl or something?” he teases, well aware of my pageant days, forced or not. “Come on. I’ll even let you drive.”

“Hell no. Then we’ll really be in for it.” I look to the other couple climbing into one on the left and say screw it, settling into the seat and strapping myself in. I glare at the man beside me. “If we flip over…”

“Don’t worry, baby. If you get hurt, I’ll kiss it better.”

He’s teasing, but his words are like a flame across my skin, and I face forward to hide it just as he slams his foot down on the gas.

I hold on tight, stiff as a board for the first minute or so, but then I start to relax, and fear turns into fun, leaving me laughing. I knock my shoulder into his. “Go faster! We’ve almost got them!” I shout over the whine of the engine.

“Hold on, Pretty Little.” Mason floors it, whipping us through the grassy track, dirt kicking up and hitting the goggles on my face.

I’m suddenly super glad I put on the ski goggles like they suggested. We thrash through the brush, and I squeal when we are airborne over the next blind hill, coming down in a bouncy crash without missing a beat.

We’re coming up to the end of the path, a giant checkered flag coming into sight, just as the other ATV barrels through the split in the trees across from us.

They look our way, and we look at each other.

“Go, go!”

“I’m going! We’re winning this one!” he screams.

We skid and slide, flying toward the end with squeals and shouts of excitement.

We miss the mark by three seconds, taking second place.

“Noooo!” I shout, my palms slapping at my goggles, and Mason laughs at my side, nudging me with his shoulder and helping me with the buckle.

The other two are cheering, the guy lifting her on to his shoulders for a victory dance that’s a little obnoxious but in a fun way I wish was us.

Mason must see it, because the next thing I know, his arms are wrapped around my knees, and I’m hoisted into the air. He pumps his fist, shouting and cheering, and my eyes are wide behind the mask.

“Stop it,” I hiss, smacking his head.

“Fuck yes, second place!” he screams.

The couple ahead frowns our way, shaking their heads as they trudge up the short dirt path, but Mason isn’t deterred.

He keeps celebrating until finally I cave, cheering and laughing with him.

Only after I give in does his laughter morph into a deep chuckle, and he slides me along his body until the tips of my shoes meet the ground. His arm stays locked around my lower back, and he lifts his goggles, then mine, before tugging our masks over our heads.

He grins, and it’s ridiculous. He has a full-on dirt mustache and dirt glasses, and I have the sudden urge to wash it away.

In a hot shower.

Just the two of us.

Mason’s smile slowly falls, his brown eyes darkening, and I swallow at the sight.

Suddenly, he licks his lips and looks away. “Come on, Pretty Little. Let’s get cleaned up and find some food.”

I have no idea how dirty we actually got until I look down at the photo the souvenir lady took of us at the end. Thankfully, the place has an outdoor shower, so we rinse quickly, and I put on a pair of extra sweats he had in his trunk with one of his university hoodies.

Instead of going out for dinner, we order from the small pizza pub near campus and sit on the grass at the edge of the school.

“Hey.” I remember suddenly. “The other morning, you said you had something to tell me, but you wanted to see my face when you did, and then we only had a chance to text before bed. What was it?”

Mason freezes midbite, then chews it as slowly as humanly possible. After, he takes his soda and brings it to his lips for another snaillike moment, and I realize he’s delaying.

He’s nervous, and now I’m nervous.

“Never mind.” I shake my head, picking at a piece of pineapple. “I’m sure it’s not that big a deal and⁠—”

“It is.” He cuts me off.

My eyes snap to his, and everything about Mason softens, even his tone, now so low I hardly hear it.

“It is a big deal.”

I swallow, shaking my head, now absolutely certain I don’t want to hear it. “You don’t have to tell me.”

He’s nodding before I’m even done. “I do. I do because it’s…” He trails off, closing his eyes.

My heart starts to pound in my chest.

“It’s about why I went to Alrick.”

A knot forms in my throat. “Oh” is all I can manage to squeeze beyond it.

Mason wipes his palms on his sweats and reaches out, taking my hands in his. He gives a gentle squeeze, and when my eyes meet his, he tries to smile. Tries and fails.

“You’re scaring me, Mase.”

“I found him,” he whispers, his Adam’s apple bobbing harshly.

My pulse roars in my ears, too afraid to read into his words but fucking terrified I’ve misunderstood at the same time. “Found who?” I rasp, pretending there is more than one person he could be talking about when we both know there isn’t.

Mason tips his head, the saddest yet most tender curve to his lips. “He’s at Carmichael Cemetery on Fredricks Street.”

I stop breathing.

My vision blurs.

I freeze.

My heart jolts, maybe even stops.

Hot streaks roll like waves down my cheeks, and I can’t think.

Can’t hear or see.

So I close my eyes, and behind my lids, there he is.

The warmth of his smile and the calm of his eyes.

Deaton…

I choke, gasping for air as I stumble to my feet and walk away.

Mason calls out, but I don’t stop. I break into a run, and I keep going.

I run and run and run until I can’t run anymore, and then I collapse, but not against the ground.

No, he’d never allow that.

Strong arms catch me, lowering with me, and then I’m cradled in warmth. Cocooned in it.

He found him.

Nearly seven months ago, Deaton was buried without my knowledge. I wasn’t invited, and I wasn’t allowed to attend. I was to blame for his death after all, so his family taunted me, sending me the image of his casket and refusing to tell me where he’d been laid to rest.

I cried myself to sleep for weeks after that, the gaping hole in my heart widening with the knowledge that I’d never get to say goodbye. Knowing he’d never have a visitor because his family didn’t care. The boy who gave me my little boy would be forever alone, and there was nothing I could do.

But the man beside me…

I lift my head, blinking through the storm in my eyes until a soft brown pair comes into view.

Mason.

My lips tremble, and I clench my teeth, my face falling into his touch when his hand lifts.

“You did this for me.”

“Have you not figured it out yet, Pretty Little?” Mason presses his forehead to mine. “I would do anything for you.”

My emotions rage, and my heart twists, full of fear and relief and a million other things.

We stare at each other, and when his mouth parts, my eyes fall to his lips.

Reaching out, I run my thumb along his lower one, my entire body shaking.

This man, he’s been my rock. My friend. My savior.

My new favorite person.

He’s not just Mason.

He’s my Mason.

I look back and forth from his eyes to his mouth, pulse pounding out of control as I lean a little closer.

My eyes close, and his soft whisper rolls across my skin.

“No.”

I tense, gaze flicking to his pained one.

He shakes his head, desperation and sorrow in his tone. “No, baby.”

“Mase,” I cry.

But Mason only shakes his head, pressing his forehead to mine once more. “I want you to have to kiss me because you can’t stand the thought of not,” he rasps. “I want it to be desperate and urgent and necessary.” He swallows, whispering, “But I want it to be mine and only mine.”

Not his.

That’s what he doesn’t say.

He wants this, this surreal, gravity-defying connection that’s tethering us, but he wants it to be real. Ours.

More tears fall from my face, and when Mason tucks me to his chest, I burrow even closer. His arms tighten around me, and he holds me to him, rocking us back and forth.

I have no idea how long we stayed sitting there, but not once did his embrace slacken, and not once did his whispered words of reassurance pause.

Mason gave me something that means more to me than he could possibly understand.

Then again, maybe he does.

Maybe he knew exactly what it would mean to me, and that’s why he did it.

Just for me.

Out of the kindness of his heart.

To show me how much he supports me.

How much he cares.

I care about him, too.

A lot.

More than I’ve allowed myself to admit, but I…I don’t know how long I can fight it, this consistent tug that begins and ends with him.

What if I stopped fighting?

What if I let go and let life lead me where it may?

What if I give in and he leaves me, too?

But what if he doesn’t?