Chapter 42 – The Way You Break Me
The sun was reluctant that morning, hiding behind a quilt of gray clouds. The world outside the cabin felt suspended, hushed like even nature was holding its breath.
Inside, everything was still.
Except Marissa.
She stood by the window wrapped in one of Mason's old sweaters, fingers curled around a steaming mug of coffee she wasn't really drinking. Her eyes weren't focused on the view. They were far away locked somewhere in the shadows of her mind, chasing ghosts she couldn't quite outrun.
Mason watched her from across the room, a quiet ache blooming in his chest. He knew that look. Knew what it meant to carry a storm inside you, even when the skies outside were calm.
"You're thinking too loud," he murmured, voice low and rough with sleep.
She glanced at him over her shoulder, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips. "You always say that."
"Because it's always true."
She turned back toward the window. "I don't know how to turn it off. The noise."
Mason walked over, wrapping his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Then let me be quiet with you."
And he was.
They stood like that still and silent until her breathing slowed, until the tremor in her fingers settled. Until the memories stopped clawing at her skin.
But peace never stayed long.
That afternoon, everything cracked.
It started with something small an offhand comment about the future, about permanence and suddenly, the room was too loud, her chest too tight, and her past too present.
"I can't do this," she snapped, backing away from him.
Mason froze, confused. "Do what?"
"This. Us. This... thing that feels too good to be real."
He moved toward her, careful. "Marissa, what's going on?"
She shook her head, eyes shining with unshed tears. "You don't get it. You can't. People don't stay. They don't. And even if they do, they break you in the end."
"I'm not people," he said firmly.
"But you're still human," she whispered. "And that's enough to ruin everything."
Her voice cracked at the end, and that's when Mason realized she wasn't angry.
She was terrified.
Of loving him. Of trusting this. Of letting herself want something she didn't believe she could keep.
He stepped closer, closing the space between them. "Then let it ruin me."
She blinked. "What?"
"Let it ruin me. If this... us ...ends in wreckage, I'll take it. I'll take every shard. But I'm not walking away just because it's scary."
Marissa pressed her fists to his chest. "You say that now. But you don't know how dark it gets inside me. How easy it is to believe I'm too much too complicated, too scarred"
"You are not too much," he said fiercely. "You are everything. And if loving you breaks me… so be it. I'll still choose you."
Tears fell freely now, hot and relentless, streaking her cheeks like confessions. Mason caught each one with his lips, kissing them away like he could steal the pain.
"You're not broken," he murmured. "You're becoming."
And she shattered not from pain, but from the way he saw her. The way he refused to let go. The way he stayed.
Marissa clung to him like the world had tilted and he was the only anchor left. Her fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt, and for a moment, she let herself fall not apart, but into him. Into his steadiness. His warmth.
"I don't know how to be loved like this," she admitted against his chest.
"You don't have to know how," Mason whispered. "Just let me do it."
They stood there in silence, breathing in each other's presence until the sharp edges softened.
Later, they lay on the couch again, but this time it wasn't comfort... it was raw. It was quiet in that way that only came after a storm: wreckage still lingering, but the air fresh with possibility.
Marissa curled into him, her cheek against his heartbeat.
"Do you ever feel like you're holding your breath all the time?" she asked quietly.
Mason ran his fingers through her hair, his other hand splayed across her spine. "Yeah. But when I'm with you, I remember to exhale."
She turned her face into his chest to hide the sting in her eyes. "I don't deserve you."
"Stop saying that," he said, more firm this time. "Don't you dare shrink yourself to fit inside someone else's past mistakes."
Marissa blinked hard. "But what if I mess this up?"
"Then we figure it out," Mason said. "Together. That's what love is. Not perfection. Not control. Just two people choosing each other again and again."
She looked up at him, lip trembling. "Even when I push you away?"
"Especially then."
His thumb brushed a tear off her cheek, then another, as if tending to fragile glass. His gaze was steady, like he was anchoring her back to the moment.
"I'm scared of how much I need you," she whispered.
He smiled faintly. "I'm scared of how much I've already made you my home."
She leaned in slowly, kissing him like she was trying to memorize the feeling like if she kissed him deeply enough, she could carve him into her bones, so even if he left, some part of him would stay.
But Mason kissed her back with gentleness, with restraint. He wasn't trying to consume her. He was trying to honor her. Every soft brush of his lips said, I'm here. You're safe. You don't have to perform love for me.
They didn't speak for a while after that. Words would have only tangled what was already understood in the spaces between them.
As night fell, Mason lit candles instead of turning on the lights, and their shadows flickered softly against the walls. Marissa sat cross-legged on the bed, watching him.
"You're not real," she said finally, a half-laugh caught in her throat.
Mason raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"
"Because this" she gestured between them "feels like a dream I've had a thousand times but never thought I'd wake up into."
He walked over, kneeling in front of her. "Then let me be your reality."
And that was the thing he meant it.
Later, she fell asleep tangled in his arms, his hoodie swallowed around her frame, his hand resting over her heart again. Like always.
But this time, she dreamed in color. No running. No screaming. Just light.
Just Mason.
The next morning, something had shifted. Not just between them but in her.
Marissa woke early again, this time feeling... still. Not weightless, not cured. But lighter. As if the pieces of her that had been scattered for years had started to gather back together.
She padded into the kitchen where Mason stood at the stove, messy-haired and barefoot, humming some off-key tune as he flipped pancakes.
"You sing like a dying cat," she teased.
He turned with a mock-wounded look. "Well, good morning to you too, sunshine."
She walked over and wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her cheek against his back.
"Thank you," she said, voice small.
He turned in her arms, brows furrowed. "For what?"
"For not letting me push you away last night."
Mason kissed her forehead. "For future reference, you can push all you want. I'm not going anywhere."
She stared up at him, heart wide open. "You might ruin me, you know."
He smiled. "Then we'll be ruins together."
That evening, they stood outside, wrapped in blankets, watching the stars appear through breaks in the clouded sky. The air was crisp. Clean. And for the first time in years, Marissa didn't feel like she had to run.
She leaned into Mason, hand wrapped tightly in his.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, brushing his lips against her temple.
"That I'm not scared anymore."
"Of what?"
"Of loving you."
Mason pulled her closer, whispering, "Then love me loud."
And so she did.
Not with grand gestures or declarations but in the quiet ways that mattered more: the way she reached for his hand without thinking, the way she let herself laugh without flinching, the way she started to believe that maybe, just maybe, she was worth staying for.
And somewhere between the silence and the stars, they stopped being two broken people trying to survive love…
And became two souls building something softer.
Something braver.
Something whole.