Chapter 35
Only You Could Break Me Like This
The rain fell softly outside, turning the world into a watercolor blur. Marissa sat by the window, legs curled beneath her, a steaming mug in her hands. But it wasn't the warmth of the tea that held her together. it was the echo of his voice, the memory of his touch, the ghost of a kiss they never quite finished.
Mason was somewhere behind her. She could feel him. The way one feels a storm before the sky breaks open. Charged. Dangerous. Inevitable.
She hadn't said a word since they returned to the cottage. And neither had he.
They were dancing on the edge of something too sharp to name.
Then his voice, low and deliberate, broke the silence.
"Why won't you let me in, Marissa?"
Her spine stiffened. She placed the mug down carefully, as if even the smallest misstep might cause her to shatter.
"I have," she said softly, not turning around.
"No, you've cracked the door," Mason murmured, moving closer. "But you haven't let me in. Not fully."
She closed her eyes. "Maybe I'm afraid you'll walk right back out."
Mason exhaled, a slow sound that wrapped around her heart. "You think I haven't already thought about that? That I don't know how dangerous this is for both of us?"
"And yet you're still here," she whispered.
He walked until he was directly behind her. She didn't turn. Didn't breathe.
"I'm still here because I love you."
The words hit her like a strike to the chest. She stood, too fast, too raw, and spun to face him.
"Don't," she said.
His eyes darkened. "Why not?"
"Because if you say it again, Mason... I won't survive it if you leave."
The truth, naked and trembling, stood between them.
He stepped forward anyway.
"I'm not leaving."
She backed up until her back hit the wall. But he didn't touch her. Not yet. Just looked at her with eyes so full of hurt and hope it undid her.
"Say it again," she said, her voice a crack.
He did.
"I love you."
Her lips parted, but no sound came. She was drowning in everything she had buried.
"I've never known what love really was," she said. "But when I met you, I started to wonder if maybe... maybe it was you."
He reached out slowly, as if she might break. And in a way, she already had.
But it wasn't pain this time. It was release.
His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing the tear she hadn't noticed.
"You ruin me, Marissa," he said. "But I'd let you do it a thousand times if it means I get to feel this. To feel you."
She surged forward, kissing him like it was the first and last time all at once. No hesitation, no masks. Just every fractured piece of herself finding a home in him.
His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer. And she let him. Let the fear melt away. Let the truth bloom like fire between them.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless and trembling, she rested her forehead against his.
"You're mine," she whispered.
"And you're mine," he replied. "Even when you push me away. Even when you're afraid."
They didn't need vows. Didn't need rings or promises etched in stone.
This was it.
The breaking.
The healing.
The truth.
And for the first time, neither of them ran.
The hours blurred after Mason's confession. Marissa stayed pressed against the wall, breathing unevenly, caught between the comfort of his presence and the chaos he awakened inside her. Her pulse pounded, a drumbeat of longing and fear.
Mason didn't rush her. He stayed where he was, close enough to touch, but far enough to give her space.
"I've been holding myself back," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
"I know," he said, his tone heartbreakingly gentle.
"I thought I had to protect what was left of me. But you… you keep peeling me open."
His eyes never left hers. "Then let me hold what I find."
That shattered something inside her the last wall, the final layer of armor. Marissa stepped forward slowly, lifting her hand to rest against his chest, feeling the steady, real thrum of his heart beneath her palm.
"I'm not easy," she said. "I overthink everything. I shut down when I'm scared. I get jealous. I cry when I'm angry. I ruin good things."
"You think I don't know that?" Mason stepped closer, covering her hand with his. "You also laugh like the sun, dream with your whole soul, and kiss like you're setting me on fire. You ruin me in all the ways I never knew I wanted to be ruined."
Her throat tightened. A tear rolled down her cheek. "I'm terrified, Mason."
"So am I," he said, brushing her cheek. "But I'm not going anywhere."
They stood like that, hearts pressed close, breaths mingling in the dim golden light of the room.
And then something shifted.
Maybe it was the silence stretching too long. Or the way her body leaned into his like a magnet finding its match. Whatever it was, it pulled them back together mouths meeting again in a kiss that tasted of surrender.
Not desperate. Not hurried.
This time, it was patient. Reverent.
His hands slid to her waist, grounding her. Hers tangled in his shirt as she melted into him, every inch of space between them disappearing.
"You're everything," she murmured against his lips.
"You're mine," he replied.
He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the couch. The storm outside raged on, but inside, their world was quiet, raw, and sacred.
Clothes were shed slowly, not in lust but in reverence as if each piece removed was a layer of the past being laid to rest. Every kiss, every brush of skin against skin, was a confession, a healing, a prayer.
He worshipped her scars. She held his brokenness.
And when they finally came together, it wasn't wild or frantic. It was slow. Deep. Beautiful.
She gasped his name like a promise.
He whispered hers like a vow.
Afterward, wrapped in a blanket and tangled in each other's limbs, Marissa stared at the ceiling, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on Mason's bare chest.
"I don't know what happens next," she said.
Mason tilted her chin until she looked at him. "We keep choosing each other. Every day. That's all I know."
Marissa nodded slowly, her voice small and certain. "Then I choose you."
He kissed her temple. "Always."
They didn't need more words.
Just each other.
And in that quiet, love-soaked room, Marissa finally understood: sometimes the people who ruin you are the very ones who put you back together gentler, braver, and somehow more whole.