Jules

Intentions—cruel, helpless, hopeful,

They come in different shades.

They leave the nights with bright light,

And sharpen the dullest blades.

They bend your will and change your plans,

And make you do bad things.

They don’t change the outcome,

Nor stop what justice brings.

My thumbnail nervously scrapes against my fingernails one at a time. I don’t have polish on, although I wish I did so I could pick it off. I’ve always done this. A nervous habit, I suppose.

My eyes drift back to Mason. His head is back against the headrest and it jostles as the limo drives over a speed bump. His hands are clasped in his lap, the knuckles torn and bloodied and his eyes are focused on the roof of the cabin.

His cheek is already bruised. There’s a split on the left side of his lips. My fingers itch to touch it. To comfort him.

He hasn’t said a word. Silence is the only thing that accompanies us.

I swallow thickly as his head turns to the side and he stares at me. A burning sensation prickles over my skin and begs me to look away, but I can’t. It’s hopeless.

He licks his lower lip, the tip of his tongue sliding down the cut as he sets his hand on my thigh. I watch as he swallows and then breathes in heavily, all the while holding my gaze. Even blind eyes could see he is a damaged man.

“Are you okay?” he asks in a low voice, deep and heavy and riddled with pain.

“Are you?” I question back with just as much sincerity, but Mason presses on.

“I mean after Liam grabbed you?”

The lump in my throat expands as the memory comes flooding back.

I shake my head immediately, closing my eyes only to recall the unhinged look in Liam’s eyes. I shudder and wrap my arms around myself. Mason immediately pulls me into him, holding me. He never fails to comfort me. I breathe easier enveloped in his warmth and resting my head on his chest. I love that he comforts me but just this once, I want to be the one comforting him.

He rocks me softly back and forth for a moment. As I calm down, the guilt weighs heavily on me. Both times now that I’ve tried to leave Mason, I’ve come to face regret and remorse for my actions.

“I shouldn’t have gone outside,” I say, letting the confession drift between us.

“Why were you out there?” Mason asks me, and it only solidifies the offense. I don’t answer. Instead I look away, my cheek still resting on his shoulder and his arms still around me.

I hear him swallow and let out a strangled breath before rocking me again ever so slightly. He doesn’t let go of me though, and he doesn’t question me again. I’m grateful for both.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I watch the lights of the city slip past us in a blur on our way back to his home.

His deep voice rumbles, “Are you?” There’s no animosity there, no curiosity either. Simply a flat question devoid of all the emotion he just gave me a moment ago.

“I am.”

A moment passes in silence and the limo rocks us as it passes over another speed bump before Mason kisses my hair and moves me to settle in his lap.

“It’s okay,” Mason says, running his hand down my hair to my back as he consoles me. He plants a soft kiss on my shoulder and my neck, and then a sweet kiss on my lips before looking me in the eyes. He gives me a sad smile and then kisses me once more before saying, “It’s okay, I understand.”

His forgiveness is what shatters me. His love and devotion to my happiness are what will ruin me entirely.

“Are you okay?” I ask him genuinely once again, desperate to put the attention and comfort on him. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes when he left me. The primal man he became. The way he fought Liam… because of me. My voice catches in my throat as I finally lean toward him and let the tips of my fingers trail over the faint bruise. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He turns his head, capturing my fingers with his hand and kissing their tips before looking at me. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Jules.” His eyes brim with sincerity. “You never did,” he says.

Tears prick my eyes, and I don’t know which cause is in the forefront. The fear of what happened tonight? The desire to run away from what my life has become?

Or the love I feel for this man.

Maybe it’s something instinctual for a woman to want to stay with someone who would fight to protect them. Maybe I feel I owe him for what he’s done. All I know is that I can’t deny what I feel.

His cold gray eyes stare deep into my own as he cups my chin in his hand and his gaze falls to my lips. He says softly, “I need you, Jules. Even if it’s not real…” his voice chokes at the word but he continues with a pained look in his eyes, “Right now, I just need to feel like you love me again.”

His hand slips behind my head, holding me still as his fingers tangle in my locks and his hot lips press against mine. I mold my lips to his and part them when he traces the seam with his tongue. My body obeys his and he takes full advantage, pushing against me until my back hits the seat and he settles his hips between my legs. He pins my hips down as he rocks against me, all the while stealing kisses and deepening the intensity. I break away to breathe.

My chest rises as he nibbles along my neck, desire shooting through me and making my nipples pebble.

“I love you, Jules,” he whispers into the crook of my neck.

My heart aches. I want to love this man, not because of him, not because of his actions, but because of how I feel about him. A true love-hate relationship. Hot and cold.

I can see myself falling into his arms while simultaneously making plans to sneak out of his bed late at night. I’m ruined beyond repair, and I only blame myself.

Mason

It slips through my fingers,

That which I cannot hold.

I cry for it, would die for it,

This love I can’t control.

The only friend I ever had is dead to me.

The woman I love tried again to leave me, and only came back because she was threatened.

My father may be trying to kill the woman I love. If not him, then someone else.

I’ve run my business into the ground and with my reputation in the shitter, I don’t think I’ll ever come back from it.

Last, a secret is out there that could destroy me, evidence that I murdered a man, and I haven’t a clue who it is that knows or what they have on me. I’m waiting in the dark, and I can feel my sanity slipping away.

I imagine this is what they mean when they say rock bottom. I slip the heavy law textbook back into its place on the bookshelf as I hear my father’s office door open and then close. I don’t turn around to face him. I don’t have to in order to know it’s him.

My father's voice bellows from behind me. “You need to relax, Mason. That shit you pulled—”

“What does it matter?” I say, cutting him off and turning to face him as his forehead creases with anger.

“You look like you’ve lost it,” he hisses at me, slapping the newspaper in his hand down onto his desk as he takes his seat.