Chapter 17

 

Mason stroked Cassie’s back, running his fingers up and down her beautiful, soft curves. She looked up at him, those golden eyes shimmering in the faint light of the bedroom as she propped herself up on her elbow.

He shifted his hand, tracing a line along the jagged scars that marked her skin and wishing he could find a way to make them disappear—make whatever she went through to get these disappear. “Who did this to you?”

To think someone could hurt her so deeply, leaving behind traces of their evil on her porcelain skin made Mason’s blood boil.

Her smile faded, and damn it if he wouldn’t do anything to get it back in place, but he didn’t want her to hide behind false joy either. What they had wasn’t just sex, and if he was going to go all in then he needed to know the things she kept from him, no matter how unpleasant the truth was.

He tilted her chin up, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead before pulling back. “Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.”

“Then talk to me.”

She dropped his gaze, her silence almost deafening.

He brushed her hair out of her face, letting his fingers linger on her jaw. “What are you afraid of?”

“That you’ll think of me differently. That you’ll realize I’m not the girl you thought I was.”

“Impossible.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what I’ve been through and—”

“Everything you have been through has made you who you are today. Even the bad. I would never think any less of you. It’s your journey, and no one can judge you on that, and don’t let them make you think they can. They weren’t there, so they have no right.”

“I never thought about it that way. People get the cliff notes and think they know the whole story, when really they don’t know an eighth of it. I don’t even think they’d want to know the whole truth.”

“I do.”

“I know.” She took a deep breath and sat up, crossing her legs beneath her. She fidgeted with her hands then let them drop to her lap. “Back then I wasn’t the girl you know today. After Francine died, I was back to where I started. I had no family, no home, nothing. People I thought were my friends couldn’t even offer me a couch to sleep on. I was alone and scared. It felt like I was being punished and forced to relive my life where nobody wanted me.” Her voice cracked, slicing a hole right through Mason’s heart. He wanted to reach for her, take her in his arms and assure her that she would never be alone again. He would make sure of that. She was his, and with that came his entire family. Cassie would never know what it was like to be lonely again.

Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed her knuckles then laced his fingers through hers. He gave her a comforting squeeze as she closed her eyes, taking another deep breath. He hated that she had to relive this part of her life over again, and he wished he could find a way to take the pain away. But he had a feeling she’d been harboring this pain for so long, and the only way to help was to open up the wound and let it bleed out.

“Then I met Dylan,” she finally said. “He promised me the world. I was weak and desperate and completely blinded by his empty promises. At first it was great. He was kind and gave me whatever I wanted, but over time things started to change. It didn’t happen all at once, and looking back at it now, I should have seen the signs. He was insanely jealous. I couldn’t look in the direction of another guy without him completely losing it. I lost my job because he would start fights with all my customers. He started telling me what I could and couldn’t wear. I wasn’t allowed to wear anything too low cut or too short, and if I did, he called me a whore and accused me of sleeping around.” Cassie paused and grabbed Mason’s hands, holding on for dear life as if she needed his strength. He’d gladly hand over all he had.

“The first time he hit me…”

Mason gently squeezed her hands and winced at the words. He knew they were coming, but he had hoped by some miracle that it wasn’t true. Knowing he was abusive lit an untapped rage of fire inside him. He wanted to find the guy and make him sorry he’d ever touched her. Make him know what it was like to beat on someone his own size. Two brothers and three sisters, he better damn well believe Mason could take a hit.

Not to mention “first” meant it happened more than once. How many times did this bastard raise a hand to her? How many times did she have to endure pain she never should have known in the first place? That no good, piece of shit deserved a taste of his own medicine.

Mason took a deep breath, forcing the anger down. Cassie didn’t need his rage right now. She needed someone to listen to her story. He pulled her into an embrace and ran his hand up and down the curve of her back, comforting her the only way he knew how, trying to give her the strength she needed to continue.

***

Cassie closed her eyes and when she opened them her jaw was set in determination, her eyes focused. “The first time,” she said again, “I wanted to do something nice for him. I thought I was the reason he was so angry.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mason blurted out, and she dropped her head in embarrassment. It was ridiculous, but she was naïve and desperate for love.

“I’m sorry,” he said, resting a hand on her thigh. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Cassie glanced down to her hands and fidgeted with her fingers. “You’re right,” she said, looking up and meeting his gaze. “It was ridiculous, but I was so blinded to the truth. All I knew was that I wanted to fix it. So I cooked him dinner. Steak and potatoes—his favorite. I put on a cute dress and did my hair and makeup. I was so excited when he got home, but then he told me my lipstick made me look like a slut and the steak was overcooked. He asked me if I had been hoping he’d bring one of his friends by and that’s why I was dressed the way I was. I was mortified so I tried to wipe the lipstick off, but he grabbed my hand and told me if I wanted to be a slut then he would treat me like one. I told him no, that’s not what I wanted, but he pinned me against the wall, grabbed me by the throat and pressed against me. He tried to get me to say I was a slut, insisted that I was cheating on him. When I denied it, he slapped me.”

She grabbed her cheek now, remembering that awful night. She could still feel the hot exploding pain that radiated in her cheek. The throbbing heat that seemed to grow and burn hotter with each scared second that passed. She remembered how she hadn’t made a single noise, frozen into submission from shock.

Mason’s fingers linked through hers, pulling her hand free of her cheek. He ran his thumb across the high set of her cheekbone. “How could anyone do that to you?”

She forced a smile. “A question I should have thought sooner. Instead I thought I deserved it. I should have known not to put makeup on; I knew how Dylan got. I should have followed the recipe better and used a meat thermometer.”

“No,” Mason growled, sliding his hands to her face and cupping her cheeks gently, but with intent. “You didn’t deserve it. None of it.”

Ashamed for ever thinking it, for allowing herself to be subjected to such cruelty for so long, she glanced down, but she didn’t want to be that feeble girl anymore. She had come so far. She was stronger than she had ever been before, and with Mason’s gentle touch she felt safe and completely free of judgment. She looked up, catching his beautiful dark green eyes. “I know that now.”

“Good,” he said, wrapping his hand around the back of her head and bringing her to his chest. She settled into the warmth, allowing it to wrap around her and comfort her. He cradled her, rocking back and forth as he kissed the top of her head. “Good,” he said again and again.

It had been a long time since she had felt safe, but being in Mason’s arms, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart, knowing that after everything she had told him, he was still there willing to hold her, she knew he would protect her not only from any outside threats, but from her own mind and insecurities.

She had no idea what she did to deserve him, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would never let him go. He had come into her life at a moment when she wouldn’t let anyone in, but somehow, he managed to creep into her heart, making his mark and refusing to leave.

So many nights, going as far back as when she was a child, she had dreamed of a knight in shining armor coming to rescue her. She had no idea she didn’t need a knight at all. She only needed the strength within herself, and that the person who would guide her was not a knight either, but a straight-talking brewer in a pair of work boots. He wasn’t the dream guy she’d expected; she wasn’t creative enough to dream Mason Hayes up.

He surpassed her fantasies as only a miracle could do.