"Yes?"
"I- I um- well, you- I-"
"Listen, kid, the campers' cabins are on the other side." He points behind him. "Now, move, yeah?"
"That isn't it!"
"Then what is it?" He still has that same bored tone.
Finally, the words I've been meaning to say spi...
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I hate him.
Even as I stand here, staring straight at my brother, who is wide-eyed and pointing a BB gun at me from the stairs, I hate him. Not Mason. Never Mason, but my father.
How could I have believed him? Let him lead me to believe that he could be different for Mason, even for a split second. I can't believe him.
Mason needs someone. The way I needed someone when I was in his situation. When all I had was him-and a few bucks left on the counter for breakfast, lunch, and dinner when Dad would leave early for work-all I ever imagined was how things could be different for Mase. And I can't explain how much I hate myself right now for ever hoping he could be a different man for his son.
His gaze flickers behind me, but he drops the BB gun anyway, running down the rest of the stairs and running into my arms. He's almost fourteen and taller than me, but he still finds my arms safe. And I feel more at peace since when I left being in his.
I know he's crying by the way I can hear and feel him hiccuping through barely audible sobs.
Wrapping my arms around him, we both squeeze each other tight. It's barely been a week, almost two, and I'm able to breathe better holding him right here than I could in the freaking forest.
"I got so scared, Summer. Fucking Christ, I thought I was about to die."
I laugh a little, rubbing up and down his back. "Yeah, I'm sorry I should have called, Ba."
He pulls away, wiping his nose as the door closes behind us and we both look to find Noah holding my bag awkwardly.
Mason smiles at the sight of Noah's makeup. I think it's almost too obvious that it's my doing.
"I like your uh..." he gestures in the general vicinity of Noah's facial... region? The considerably beautiful region.
Why am I like this?
"Thanks. Your sister is talented."
"Last person who said that to him got socked," I inform Noah. Mason nudges me, rolling his eyes as he wipes at them again with the back of his hand.
Noah chuckles and I gesture for him to set the bag in the living room. He nods, smiling sheepishly as he walks out of the room.
That's when I look back at Mason, taking his face in my hands as I force our eyes to meet.
"I'm not leaving you, Mase."
His gaze tries to avert, but I don't let it. He needs to know that I mean it. Really, seriously, mean it. He doesn't want to hear this; I know just by the look on his face, but he needs to.
"He's such an idiot, leaving you alone like this."
"Don't hate Dad, Summer." He pleads, and all I can do is nod. "He doesn't mean it."
