Promise Me Not

Payton

Now, November

The night my son was born, I dreamed of the boy I created him with. We were so happy, holding our newborn baby boy and imagining all the times ahead. We talked about which of us he’d be most like and who we thought he’d resemble as the years went by. We went over everything for hours, and when I woke, it was with a sense of peace that maybe not all was lost.

Deaton might be gone, but he was still there in my dreams, and in my dreams, I could hold on to him. I could tell him about his little boy and how magnificent he was. I could share all I wanted to share, and he would be right there, eager to listen.

In my dreams, he could live on forever.

And then Mason came into the picture, my picture. Somewhere along the way, we went from strangers to friends to more. Guilt wanted me to hold on to the past, but my subconscious was already looking toward the future.

The moment I fell for Mason, the fragile figments of my imagination finally shattered, the pieces carried away by the winter wind, scattering the metaphorical ashes of the boy who taught me how to love. The boy who showed me so much of it, the black hole I felt I lived in finally shone a little brighter.

He was my light, and when I realized what had happened in his wake, I felt like I covered him in darkness. Dirtied his memory by daring to endanger it because the truth was hard to face, because the truth is…

If Deaton was the light, then Mason is the sun.

He’s a life-changing constant, a forever presence of warmth and growth.

And how could I possibly survive without the center of my personal solar system?

The simple answer: I couldn’t.

The minute I left Mason standing in the grass, the look of utter devastation drawn across his face, I knew what I needed to do, the possibility of what Alister had been led to believe having shocked some sense into me. It shouldn’t have taken the thought of Mason with another woman to do so, but here we are.

I realize now that while I was so busy trying to protect myself from the possibility of losing Mason, something I know I would never survive, I was the one making it a reality.

The world didn’t take him from me.

I took him from myself, breaking us both, and that’s a weight I’ll have to carry.

I let fear drive me forward, and in turn, I shoved him back when I should have held on, allowing him to hold me up the way he’d been asking to.

No more, Mase.

It took me two days to work things out, to get ahold of Sarah and Ian, Nate’s parents, to help with Deaton and another to convince them not to tell my dad I was en route. He means well, but that’s a whole other issue I just don’t have the energy or headspace to unpack right now. I guess I’m a little less forgiving of how he let my mother keep me away now that I have a child of my own.

You don’t walk away. You walk through the damn fire to get to your baby.

But again, that relationship isn’t something I have the energy to think about. My childhood already played a big enough role in the headspace I live in. The last thing I want is to take a step backward when I’ve finally found the strength to hit the incline.

Maybe if he didn’t leave me after loving me, I wouldn’t be so afraid of it happening to my son.

Then again, maybe not.

Maybe leaving is human nature or simply a stage of life.

Plain and simple? People leave.

They love you and they leave you, with or without their own consent.

Deaton didn’t choose to leave me…but he also did.

He left California that day before we could talk, because he didn’t want to deal with his parents’ wrath had he not. I understand that. It just so happened I chose the opposite.

I ran from my mother, and I refused to go back.

He didn’t, and then he died.

I don’t know what that means, and maybe it means nothing at all, but it’s the ugly truth behind the ache. I knew he wasn’t leaving me, but if I said I don’t sometimes blame him for everything, I’d be lying. And it took me a very long time to realize this. It’s not fair, especially since I’m the reason he came to California in the first place. It’s just what is.

I was just as mad as I was sad, and I hated that. Guilt was—no, guilt is like a second skin in my life, and I don’t want to wear it anymore. I want to break free and just…be.

But breaking free means breaking open all the boxes and facing what I’ve fought against.

The real versus the fake.

The then versus the now.

If there’s one thing I’ve realized in the last few weeks, it’s that I’m not helping my son by holding back.

I’m hurting us both.

I’m hurting all of us, and I don’t want to hurt anymore.

I thought pushing Mason away was an act of self-preservation, a way of protecting myself from further loss, but in reality, I caused more unnecessary damage. The worst part is my actions didn’t only affect me but Mason as well, a fact I’ll forever be forced to face.

I could have cost him his dream because I was too afraid to face the fact that he had become the man in mine.

No more hiding, Payton. No more holding back.

Taking one last steady breath, I push the door open.

I step from the car, each rise and fall of my foot heavier than the last until there are no more to take.

The first thing I see when I lift my eyes is his name, carved into the stone. The second is the small picture placed beneath it. It’s our little boy, smiling wide with dimples identical to his dad’s. The tears come hard and fast, and I fall to my knees, burying my face in my hands.

“I’m so sorry, Deaton,” I cry. “I’m sorry you’re gone and that I haven’t come. I’m sorry I took off in the first place, and I’m sorry you died not knowing if our baby was going to be raised by strangers or by his mom. I’m sorry for being part of the reason you were on the road that day at all and…damn it.” I swallow, taking a moment to gather myself. “I don’t have anything good to say,” I admit in a whisper. “All I can think about are all the things I need to apologize for. Unfortunately, the list feels never-ending, and most of it I’m not so sure you’ll want to hear, but I…think I have to tell you anyway.”

I look to the sky, his headstone far too agonizing to address.

“I stopped talking to you after I stopped dreaming about you. I didn’t know what to say. How could I whisper words I wanted you to hear when another man’s face replaced yours in my mind? But I did try to get you back, I promise. I looked at photos and read old letters and messages. I replayed so many days, and I did it for weeks, right before I went to sleep, and still…my dreams would come, and the new set of brown eyes stared back at me. I didn’t know how to stop it, and I thought maybe if I quit him, he would go away and you would come back.”

I press my fingers to my mouth, pinching the skin there. “But there was no quitting him, and it only got worse after that. It didn’t take long for me to realize why. I…” I squeeze my eyes closed, unable to face this head-on but forcing the words from my lips. “I’d already lost you, Deaton, but I hadn’t lost him yet. He was still here, and I was hanging on with all I had. That meant the place I thought I saved just for you became his, and I didn’t even know it was happening until it already had. I was sick with guilt and scared to death because I knew there was no way I could go through that again.” Not with him.

“So I kept reaching for you, holding on to your memory in fear not only of losing it but of losing myself if my world fell apart all over again. I hardly made it through after you died, Deaton, and even though things have changed, you have to know how much I missed you.”

Gasping, I look up, pressing my palms to his name and dropping my head against it.

“I can’t believe your body is under here. It’s so crazy you’re really gone. Like gone, gone. Forever.” My shoulders shake, my sobs uncontrollable. “I don’t want you to hate me. Please don’t hate me. I didn’t mean to fall in love with him. I didn’t mean to let you go.”

Curling in a ball, I lie before his headstone, one hand pressed to the day he left me and the other clutching the photo of the little guy he gave me before he went.

The tears don’t stop, the guilt doesn’t lessen, but the pain…it slowly fades.

We’re together, even if we’re worlds apart.

“Payton.”

My lips twitch, his voice one of my favorite sounds to hear.

“Payton, look at me.”

Slowly, my eyes open, and I smile instantly.

“Hi.” He smiles back.

“Hi.”

“It’s been a while.”

I nod, reaching out, and a sob breaks free when I can feel him. The smoothness of his cheeks, the softness of his hands when they lock around mine. “You’re here.”

“I’m wherever you need me to be.”

“But you weren’t,” I argue. “Deaton, you were gone, and I needed you.”

“No,” he whispers softly. “You needed him.”

An avalanche of emotion falls over me, burying me in grief. “I’m so sorry,” I say.

Deaton smiles, that easy, gentle smile he was known for, and then he shocks me when he says, “I’m not.”

“Deaton…” My heart stops, his name but a stuttered breath.

“My son, our son, deserves someone else to love him like you do, and if it can’t be me, it has to be him.”

“How can you be okay with that?”

“Payton,” he murmurs, holding my gaze with his steady, unwavering one. “No one will love that little boy more than us, and Mason? He is part of us now.”

“If that’s true, that means your little boy will grow up and call someone else daddy.”

“Not someone else.” Deaton’s thumb grazes along my cheek. “Him.”

“That’s not fair to you.”

He takes the picture in my hand, lifting it between us. He doesn’t speak until my eyes fall to meet my baby boy’s. “I helped make him. He helped bring him into this world.” My gaze comes back to his. “That seems pretty equal to me.”

I break down again, sobbing and falling into him, wishing I could feel the warmth of his arms around me.

“Don’t cry,” he whispers. “I’m okay here. In your memory. Just think of me sometimes, and I’ll never be gone.”

“Don’t go.”

“It’s time to wake up now. He’s scared. And he needs you.”

His support is unwavering, and finally, I nod.

“Goodbye, Payton…”

My eyes flick open, and I gasp, pushing my torso off the grass.

I look to the headstone, to the photo of Deaton on the grass beside me, and then something calls my eyes to the curb, just in time to see Chase’s truck rolling to a stop.

I push onto my knees in confusion, but the door opens a moment later, and Mason steps out.

I collapse all over again, a complete and total wreck, but something drags me to my feet. It’s strong and unfamiliar. It carries me across the grass, and it doesn’t stop until I’m falling forward.

Mason catches me with open arms, twining them so tight around me, I know this is it. That there’s no escaping, no running, no pushing.

The cables have connected, the metal has melted, the fractured pieces fusing together and shaping anew.

“Shh,” he soothes. “It’s okay, Pretty Little. You’re okay. This is my fault.”

I try to shake my head, but I’m pressed too tight against him.

“I didn’t mean to push you or guilt you into coming here. I should have left you to come here when you were ready.” He pulls me impossibly tighter. “I just keep fucking up, and I need to sit back⁠—”

“I love you.”

Mason’s body turns to stone.

Ever so slowly, he lifts his head, and when our eyes lock, it’s like the world tilts on its axis. The mountains shift, and the skies open up, and when the sun does quite literally break through the November clouds, as if only shining on us, the barest hint of wind pressing at my back, pushing me to him, I know it’s right.

That Deaton is here with us, telling me it’s okay. That this is okay.

“Baby…” His mouth moves as if to speak the words, but no actual sound comes out as he waits as though wondering if he conjured them up in his head.

So I say them again, louder, my every focus on him and him alone.

“I love you, Mason. More than I knew I was capable of. More than I knew was possible. And more than I was ready for, but I’m…I’m ready now.”

Mason shakes against me, his hands coming up and gripping my face, holding my eyes on his.

“I’m yours, Mason.”

“Mine?” he dares in a broken whisper. “You’re standing here, in this place of all places, and telling me that you’re mine?”

I nod.

“You understand what that means, don’t you?” His eyes are piercing. “If you’re mine, he’s mine, too.”

My lips quiver, and I nod again.

“Payton.” He shakes, swallowing hard as moisture builds in his brown eyes. “I need to know you understand what that means. I need to know even if you change your mind one day, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you won’t, but if you do…I need to know he’ll still be mine. I can’t lose him, Payton. I will not lose that little boy.”

“I understand.” My voice trembles with the truth. “He’s just as much yours as he is mine.”

Mason clenches his jaw, giving a jerky nod. “He is. He’s mine, too.”

I cry, wrapping my arms around his neck, and Mason buries his face in mine.

I don’t know how long we stand there, but when a car door opens, we pull apart, just in time to watch as Chase lifts Deaton from his car seat.

My hand shoots to my mouth to hold the sob in, and Mason takes my other, giving me a gentle squeeze.

“We picked him up from Aunt Sarah on the way here,” he whispers. “I hope that’s okay.”

I nod, gaze glued on Deaton. His tiny shoes hit the grass, and like the pro he’s quickly become, he breaks into a wobbly run. Relief and resignation have my throat clogging as he marches this way, not stopping until his arms are locking around Mason’s leg.

A scratchy chuckle escapes Mason, and he bends, lifting Deaton into his arms, and when Mason comes to his full height, both my boys look at me.

With a deep breath, I step closer, smiling at my son. “Hey, little man. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Mason’s eyes are soft as they peer down at me. “You don’t have to do so much in one day, you know. We can come back another time.”

“I know,” I whisper. “But I want to.”

The pride that stares back at me is enough to drive me forward. Together, the three of us pile around the small space dedicated to Deaton Vermont, the boy who left us too soon but blessed our lives before his was taken. We sit in silence, words not needed.

A little while later, Deaton pushes to his feet, and I watch as he walks over to the headstone, having no clue what it is. Still, when his little palm reaches out to touch it, something has him stretching out his other one until his fingers are pressed to Mason’s shoulder.

With one hand on the headstone, the other on Mason, my little boy brings his eyes to mine. He smiles, that big, toothy grin I live for, and suddenly, the pressure that’s lived in my chest, the guilt that held me down for the better part of a year…it disappears.

Vanishes.

All that’s left is clarity.

It’s like suddenly the world makes sense, like I’ve evolved in the span of a blink.

I know now life won’t always be easy, and obstacles will always place themselves in our way, but we can work through them.

We can overcome anything if we can get past this, so long as we do it together.

When I look up, I find Mason staring, and he pulls his phone from his pocket with an uneasy expression. “Can I show you something?” he whispers.

I nod, and he pulls up an old social media profile picture of Deaton.

A frown builds along my brow, but I wait, watching as he tugs Deaton into his lap and places the phone in front of his face.

“Hey, big guy,” he whispers. “Who is that?”

Deaton just slaps the screen a few times, and Mason looks up with a sheepish smile, then back down, bouncing him on his knee as he points at the screen again. “Who is that, Little D?”

Deaton smiles, and then he says, “Da, da, da, da.”

My mouth falls open, a choppy laugh escaping. “Wha…” I trail off.

Deaton looks up, starting right at Mason, one finger stuck inside his mouth as he grins around it. “Da, da, da.”

Mason’s head snaps up in panic. “He’s not calling me that. I just taught him the word and⁠—”

“He is.” I cut him off, and Mason swallows, eyes moving between mine. “He knows, Mase. He knows who you are to him.”

“Baby.” His jaw clenches tight.

“Deaton is his father.” My eyes cloud with tears. “But you’re the only dad he’s ever known.”

Mason reaches out, tethering our hands together. “We’ll make sure he knows him, too.”

I nod, because I know we will.

We’ll figure out everything.

As a family.

Me, Mase, and our son.