Chapter 5: Flames, Lies, and a Locked Door

I turned my head, glanced at the time, and kindly reminded him, "It's almost midnight. Aren't you leaving?" My voice was soft, almost hopeful.

He froze, looking displeased. For a second, I thought he might yell.

"Leave where? Isn't this my house?" His tone was incredulous, like I’d just suggested he sleep on the sidewalk. I almost laughed.

Forget it. After fighting the fire, I was exhausted. As I turned to go to the guest room, Mason called out from behind:

"You smoked yourself silly? The guest room’s on the right."

His voice was softer, almost teasing. I turned back. "Oh, forgot to tell you—I moved to the guest room a week ago."

Just as I finished, I was about to close the door when he strode over and pressed his hand against it. His eyes were complicated, hard to read, his voice colder:

"Whatever game you're playing, don't go too far."

His breath fanned across my cheek. I froze, heart pounding. "Got it."

I brushed his hand aside, shutting his stunned face out. I leaned against the door for a second, trying to steady my breathing.

The next morning, Mason ate breakfast with dark circles under his eyes and took out two theater tickets. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all.

He pushed them across the table, his fingers drumming restlessly. "Tonight at eight."

I glanced at them, surprised. "These are hard to get, aren't they?"

He looked away, tone lazy. "Don't know. Someone gave them to me. Don't want to waste them."

I forced a smile. "Is that so?"

My heart lifted, then crashed back down. Why am I still expecting anything? It hurt more than I wanted to admit.

Seeing I didn't take the tickets, he put them in front of me. His jaw was tight.

"I'll pick you up after work tonight. We'll go together."

"No need."

He probably didn't expect me to refuse. He froze mid-stand, a strange look flashing in his eyes. For a moment, neither of us said anything.

His mouth opened, then closed. After a brief silence, I picked up the tickets and smiled at him.

"I'm handling things near there this afternoon—it's easier for me to go straight there."

He seemed relieved. "Okay!" He tried to play it cool, but the relief in his voice was obvious.

He tried to hide it, but I caught the faintest hint of a smile. It made my chest ache.

On the way to the theater, I got a message. My hands shook as I read it:

[Pick one of the two. Guess who he'll choose tonight?]

I wasn't surprised. I didn’t ask the driver to turn around, either. I just stared out the window, heart numb.

The city lights blurred by, rain streaking the windows. Before going in, I turned off my phone, not wanting to see any more messages.

The play was fantastic—I really enjoyed it. For a couple hours, I almost forgot everything else.

The applause echoed in my ears, but my heart felt hollow. When I came out, it was pouring rain. Mason stood outside, holding an umbrella, as if waiting for me. My chest tightened.

He looked almost lost, the streetlights painting halos around his head. For a second, I almost felt sorry for him. Raindrops ran down the windshield again and again, as if they could never be wiped away.

The car was silent. I could feel him glancing at me from the side. Every time he looked away, I wanted to scream.

His fingers tapped nervously on the steering wheel. After a long time, he finally spoke in a hoarse voice:

"Grace had a rough night. Took some pills. I had to take her in. Maybe next time..."

His voice trailed off, uncertain. I stared out the window, rain blurring everything. "There won't be a next time," I cut him off.

The sound of tires screeching on the road filled the air. I felt my pulse spike.

He slammed the brakes, turning to face me. Mason turned his head, a flicker of panic in his eyes. For once, he looked scared.

"What do you mean?" His voice was barely more than a whisper. I steadied myself and met his gaze, refusing to look away.

"Exactly what it sounds like."

The words hung between us, final as a slammed door. The rain kept falling, relentless. Nothing left to say.