Deception. Betrayal. Mistrust.
It seems the closer Rayne gets to the truth, the more she finds herself wanting to run away from it. It's complex and terrifying-more than she ever fathomed.
New family members, good and bad, pop out at her like a br...
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𝗕lake scrambled down the stairs, practically tripping over her two left feet, and subsequently ignoring her girlfriend's goodbye kiss. But the beat of her heart, the thrum of her blood—the undiluted happiness coursing through her body had her forgetting about it. Forgetting about everything other than the consuming completion that emanated from her body.
Her thoughts were lost in the wind as her breathy excitement collided with the person in front of her. Mason reacted in time to catch her. Her arms cocooned around his neck as she inhaled his familiar scent, and her legs found solace around his hips. Her jump had been strong enough to toss them both against the car for support, but she didn't care.
She didn't care about anything other than the friend she was embracing.
Mason chuckled at her enthusiasm, draping both of his arms around her back in a hug so tight, she thought she would explode from the love encapsulated in her heart. Just like that, they were two teenagers seeking consolation in one another—daring the other to lean on their shoulder—hoping that they'd somehow find themselves lost in another broken soul.
"You're energetic for someone who just had major surgery a month ago."
"That happens when I see someone I missed. Is that a crime?"
"Never," she could feel his grin on her skin, "But you did see me two days ago."
"Yeah, and I couldn't appreciate it because your husband was too busy hassling me about his bed."
"You had sex in it. Can you blame him?"
Blake snorted loudly as she climbed off him and felt the ground solidify under her two feet. Mason's hands didn't leave her shoulders, even after she settled, and when she looked up at him, she couldn't help but imitate his expression. Eyes bluer than the sky. A smile worth a million.
From meeting at seventeen to having a whirlwind of heartbreak, indecision, and configuration of a relationship—if she had asked herself then if this is where she saw herself, she could have smacked the counter in a peal of laughter that was as boisterous as it was fake.
Through screaming and fighting; loving and denying—Mason was her person. Her platonic soulmate in an alternate body—the father of her child and the one person she knew she could always rely on.
It enlightened her to watch the sun pour across the same black hair that matted to the head of their child. To stare into the same coloring that clicked the missing piece of her heart into place.
"Has he gotten over that yet?"
"Not a chance. I think the new mattress comes in tomorrow."
Blake rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance, and stepped around the car to the passenger side. Mason shared the same bemused expression as they slid into his Mercedes, and it felt so real, so natural. The fact that his husband was an over-obsessed germaphobe made her world spin smoother, made the birds sing louder, and the sky a little less cloudy.
