Chapter 22

Songs:

Wrong Side of Heaven, Five Finger Death Punch
Something Different, Godsmack
Paralyzed, NF
The Day Is Gone, Noah Gunderson & The Forest Rangers
So Cold, Ben Cocks
Wicked Game, Theory of a Deadman
But We Lost It, P!nk
Alibi, Thirty Seconds to Mars

*Link to YouTube playlist in chapter 1!

**And yes, I know this many songs for one chapter is a bit excessive. Lol. But each of these spoke to me in some way for this chapter, specifically. You should see what I didn't include. ;p

**Sorry for the delay in posting! FFN was being a brat.

Spring 2017 through February 2020

Masen

"I'm going to need you and your brother to handle this while I meet with Riley." Pop hands E a slip of paper. "This is the address he gave me. He should be there tonight."

E looks up from the paper. "And if he is?"

Pop raises a brow and looks my way before turning back to my brother. "Whatever you need to do. Take care of it. He needs to be gone. He's a two-bit thug, so no one's gonna miss him. Make it look like a bad drug deal or something. Remember, only use your piece as a last resort. I don't want this coming back on us."

E looks over his shoulder at me. "You good with this?"

I meet my father's gaze as I flick the ash from my cigarette. "Ri's paying for this?"

"Not directly, but if you can get me a text before we part ways tonight, the cut we get for this run will be bigger." He looks between my brother and me. "And I'll make sure you two get a little extra."

I scoff and shake my head. "You want us to off some fucker and we get, what, a bonus?"

Edward stands a little straighter. "If you don't want to do it, Mase, you don't—"

I push off the wall and snatch the paper from my brother's hand. "Let's get this shit done."

E and I load into the van and head off toward South Tucson, firmly in Kingsmen territory. The ride to the guy's house is quiet, neither of us in the mood to talk about what we're being sent to do.

It's not the first time Pop's used me for a job like this, one where the target is supposed to disappear. It's usually some scumbag who got away with something he shouldn't have. And even if the target didn't meet his end at my hands, I've helped dig a few holes in the desert for a handful of rapists and child molesters, even before I was patched in. But this time is different. This time we're being sent on what boils down to a hit for Riley; someone who's encroaching on his business territory.

The rundown house is on the outskirts of town, somewhere between the developed, residential part of town and the industrial park. I find a dark spot on the street, far away from any streetlights and park the van. We have a good view of the guy's house from here, and he's home. All we need to do is make sure he's alone and wait for the lights to go out.

"You ready for this?" E asks, his voice low.

I light a new cigarette, blowing the smoke toward the crack in the window. "Guess it's not too different from the shit I've done before."

E crosses his arms and settles back into his seat. "No, not really." He turns to face me. "But this guy hasn't hurt anyone. He's just trying to make a buck."

"Riley's buck," I'm quick to correct. I turn to meet his eyes. "And Riley's money turns into my money. I don't have the luxury of deciding where my next bonus check is coming from."

As I turn to look out the windshield, Edward reaches for the pack of smokes on the dash, lighting one. "You guys doing okay?"

"We're fine," I answer curtly. The last thing I want is my brother in my business, knowing I'm still struggling to support my family.

"I told Bella she could hold off on the next couple payments. I told her not to worry about it at all, but we both know how stubborn she is."

My head whips in his direction. "What payments?"

A crease forms between his brows. "The money she borrowed last year."

"What money?" I grind out through gritted teeth.

"She didn't tell you." It's a statement, not a question.

"No, she didn't."

He sighs, and that pity shit I swore I'd never see from my brother of all people is rolling off him in waves. "Look, she needed—"

"I told her not to ask any of you for help."

"What the fuck did you expect her to do, Mase?"

"I don't fucking know!" I scrub a hand over my face and try to calm the fuck down. "How much? How much did she borrow from you?"

"Three grand."

I scoff and stare out the window, absent-mindedly flicking the ash from my smoke. "How much does she still owe you?"

He blows out a breath, hesitant. "Most of it," he murmurs. "Look, with you not working, she still had to pay your health insurance premiums. I couldn't let that shit lapse, not with Sammy needing to go to the doctor so often."

I look his way. "And what? She just knocked on your door and asked you for money?"

"No. It wasn't like that. She didn't ask anyone. I found out from Pop about the insurance bullshit. Esme wanted him to pester Bella for it. And to tell you the truth, I wasn't going to tell her I paid the fucking thing, but she found out anyway." He chuckles. "She wound up on my doorstep, furious with me." In my peripheral vision, I see him look over at me. "You'd be proud. She yelled at me, told me how pissed you'd be when you found out. Then I got her talking and found out she was behind on the bike payment. So, I gave her enough to get you caught up." He shrugs. "To make her feel better, I told her she could pay me back when she had the money."

Thoughts of my wife ending up on his doorstep flood my mind, and all I can see is her alone with him in his house ... which leads to me thinking of her in his bed. The deluded thoughts send a rush of irrational anger through me. "Did ya fuck her too?"

"What the fuck, man?"

I turn my narrowed eyes on him. "I go away for six months and you swoop in to save the day. You were just waiting for your chance with her, weren't you?" My pulse is racing, and my throat is dry. Rage vibrates through me as I stare at my brother, and I have the urge to rip him apart.

"You're out of your goddamn mind, you know that? I was nothing but the supportive brother-in-law while you were in jail, you stupid motherfucker."

I shake my head and open my mouth to speak, but as I do, the lights inside the house we're watching go out. Without a word, I grab my gloves and hop out of the van, pulling up the hood of my pullover and creeping along the shadows until I reach the backdoor, with E right behind me.

We wait silently on the back porch, my eyes focused on the gap between the curtains. I can see straight into the kitchen. The necessity to be quiet means Edward can't argue with me. He can't try to talk me down.

When I catch movement inside and the dude's open refrigerator lights up the kitchen, I can see he's alone, unarmed, and dressed in nothing more than his boxers. I take a step back and use all that pent-up frustration and anger coursing through my veins, kicking the door where the deadbolt meets the frame. I bust through the lock, and the wood splinters like it's made of the same flimsy balsa wood as a kid's model plane. The noise is enough to startle the half-naked dude as he stands in front of the fridge, a half gallon of milk held up near his mouth and his gun across the room on the counter.

Acting purely on impulse, I grab him and pound a fist into the side of his head. With the first hit, I get a taste, the rage and frustration finding an outlet, and my instincts take over. Hit after hit, I pulverize the poor soul, the guy who was dead before we ever stepped a foot into his house.

I feel it, but I don't really see it happening. It's like a goddamn out of body experience as I beat him to a bloody pulp. This isn't like the first time I beat a guy to death. This time it's not in self-defense, though; he's a skinny crank pusher in his underwear—he's no threat to me. So, I let the adrenaline flow through my veins and allow the monster who's been living inside me for so long to come out and play.

By the time my vision clears and my thoughts aren't a jumbled mess, the guy we were sent to take care of lies in a bloody heap on his floor, his dropped milk pooling around his body, tinged pink around the edges.

"You feel better?" my brother asks from behind me.

"Not even a little."

We work side by side in silence, making sure we're not leaving behind any traceable evidence. E sends the text to Pop, telling him to pass along to Riley that the job is done, and then we get the fuck out.

I toss the van keys to my brother since I'm in no shape to drive. When I climb in, I light the first of what I'm sure will be many cigarettes as we drive back to town.

"Would you talk to me?" he pleads.

"About what? You going behind my back with my wife and keeping it from me for a whole fucking year?"

His hands grip the wheel tighter as he inhales and exhales a few times.

"What I don't get," I say, turning in my seat, "is what's going on now."

He turns to me then back to the road, a mask of confusion on his face. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how you always seem to be in our business. How the first night I get out of the can you're cornering my old lady in a hallway."

"Mase, I wasn't—"

"You're always calling her about shit. Then I find out you're having discussions about money, discussions I have no idea about—money I have no idea about. Well, it sounds pretty fucking suspect, man."

When he opens his mouth to speak, his voice is low and his words are deliberate. "I'm only gonna say this once, Mase. I was only helping out your wife while you were in jail. I found out she needed help, and I stepped up."

I flick my smoke out the window and light another one. "No one fucking asked you to."

He looks my way. "Your pride is gonna fuck you over someday. You need to know when you can't handle shit on your own. And this is what family does, man. I don't understand what the problem is with me helping you guys out."

I turn to face him again. "Maybe if one of you had fucking told me, I wouldn't be so pissed about it."

He nods. "Fair enough. But don't go take this out on B. She's had enough on her plate lately. You don't need to—"

"Don't worry about me and my old lady. Just ... next time, come to me. Don't go behind my back about shit."

Nothing more is said as we drive the rest of the way back. I go through half a pack of cigarettes before we get back, trying to keep my scattered thoughts from causing more trouble with my brother. As soon as we park the van, I bolt, heading straight for my bike.

E calls after me, but I don't answer him. Instead, I peel out of the lot, heading straight for home. When I pull up, Gran's car is gone, and I breathe a small sigh of relief. I need to talk to Bella, and I'm sure it'll turn into an argument.

My grandmother is the last person who needs to hear us have yet another screaming match.

It's late, and Sam is probably in bed, so I'm careful to be keep the noise to a minimum when I walk in. As expected, the rest of the trailer is quiet, and when I reach our room, Bella is standing at her side of the bed, folding laundry.

When she looks up, the serene look on her face fades. "What happened?"

"Why didn't you tell me you borrowed money from my brother?"

"Mase, did you—" She tosses the towel back in the basket and walks around the bed toward me. "Did you fight with Edward?"

"Answer my fucking question, Bella!"

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, blowing it out before she opens them. "Because I knew you'd be mad." She tries to put her hands on me, but I push her away.

"So, you decided to lie to me instead?"

"No! I just—"

"You just didn't tell me! How could you—" I clench my jaw and try to rein in my anger, but it fights its way to the surface. "After I fucking told you not to borrow money from anyone, you still did it behind my back!"

"What did you expect me to do?" she shouts. "I was killing myself trying to keep up, and I did what I had to do to take care of my son. I'm not going to apologize for that."

"You've had months—fucking months to tell me, but you still kept it from me. Why?"

"Because I didn't want to have this argument."

My laugh is dark, my hands are clenched at my sides, and my voice is a rumble. I don't even feel like myself. "So, you thought lying was a better idea."

"What did you expect me to do, Masen? I was behind. You weren't at work, so you couldn't pay the premiums for the insurance, and Sam—"

"I get it. I'm a horrible father who can't even take care of his kid." I try to storm past her, but she doesn't allow it, reaching out to grab me. "What?" I scream.

"We should talk about this."

"Now? You want to talk about this now? Look at me, Bella. Do I look like I'm in any rational frame of mind to talk?"

"We always talk stuff out. We always figure out together what to do. We're a team, Mase."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to go behind my back. Doesn't really feel like we're on the same side, does it?"

"I don't want you mad at me," she whispers, tears welling in her eyes.

"Too late, sweetheart."

Those same tearful eyes narrow on me. "Look, I'll just pay him back and we can forget I ever asked for help, okay?"

"With what?" I widen my arms. "Where the fuck are we getting enough to pay him back?"

"I don't know. Maybe—"

"You wanna know what paid for Christmas last year?" I shout over her, my body looming over hers.

"Stop, Mase. Please," she begs, covering her ears while her emotions fall onto her cheeks. "I don't want to fight."

I yank her hands away, forcing her to listen. She struggles, tries to pull away, but I don't let her. "No! You need to hear this. I'm out there doing shit that would turn your stomach just so we can pay the fucking bills, so Sam could have birthday and Christmas presents to open." I lower my voice, getting close enough that I can practically smell the salt of her tears. "I'm the one Pop calls when he needs to have the shit beat out of someone." I chuckle mirthlessly. "It's something I'm actually good at. I've proven to him that I can do what he asks, and for once in my miserable life, I finally have dear ol' Dad's approval."

She looks up, her face splotchy and her eyes red, tears still flowing. "Mase, this isn't you." She reaches for me, but I step back.

"I haven't been me in a long time, babe." The grin that spreads across my face is malicious at best. I lean in to whisper in her ear, "Your husband's killed men with his bare hands. How does that make you feel?"

She whimpers. "Why are you doing this? Why does it feel like you're trying to push me away?"

I crouch down, getting in her face. "What? All of a sudden you want to play nice? Where's the broad who's been bitching at me non-stop for months about what I do? Who's the one who'd rather we be homeless than have me do what needs to be done so we have a roof over our head? Huh? No, you'd rather just go behind my back and ask my brother to help us."

"That's not how it happened."

"Then why did you lie to me? Why did you keep it from me, Bella? Were you just gonna pay back the money without ever saying anything? Or were you gonna pay the debt on your back?"

I don't even see it coming. Her splayed hand lands hard on my cheek and I grit my teeth, resisting the reflex to pop her one in return.

"How dare you?" Her eyes burn with fury, and her hands are clenched at her sides. I've never seen her so furious. "I can't even stand the sight of you right now."

"Feeling's mutual, sweetheart."

I storm past her, heading out the door and straight back to the clubhouse.

E is blessedly nowhere to be found, so I can grab a bottle and stew on the sofa in peace. The last thing I want to do is fight with him here, of all places. Some shit shouldn't be aired, no matter how close you are to your friends. It takes three shots of Jack before I start to feel my pulse slow and my anger begin to recede. And as I'd hoped, I'm here when Pop and the rest of the guys get back from their run between Riley and García.

"Masen, my boy." Pop lands a heavy hand to my shoulder, going past me to get his own drink. "Why don't you come with me?" He looks over my shoulder. "Tank, take the cash into the chapel."

I dutifully follow him and wait for what I hope will be a decent payday. After Pop counts it all out and divides it up, he hands me a stack of bills. "That's two grand. Don't spend it all in one place."

I watch as everyone else files in to get their cut, and I notice most of them get nearly as much as I do. I'm the one who killed a man tonight and they're all getting the same payday. I shake my head and cross my arms, turning to stare out the window.

"Well," Pop says with a sigh, "I'm gonna go see who's around to entertain me for the night and then crash." He looks my way. "You did good tonight, kid."

I look over my shoulder. "Thanks."

He walks out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I turn back to the window and stare out into the night. Everything I've done for my old man, everything I've done for this fucking club has been to make a better life for my family. But it feels like everything I've tried to do to keep us afloat has chipped away at who I am ... who I was.

I catch my reflection in the glass and hardly recognize the man staring back at me. He looks older, tired. And the hollow look in his eyes is just the physical manifestation of how he's feeling right now.

Empty.

It should scare the fuck out of me.

The problem is it doesn't.

I close my eyes, blocking out my reflection as Bella's words echo in my head.

"I can't even stand the sight of you right now."

"I can't either, babe," I whisper to no one.

I think back to the last time I felt like myself, and it feels like a lifetime ago. Yeah, Bella and I have struggled since the beginning, but we always had each other's back. She was right when she said we used to be a team. But these days it feels like we're on opposite sides.

And the only thing that's changed is me getting patched in.

Leaving the club isn't an option for me, though. Not only did I make the commitment and ink the colors on my back, but also for the first time, my father is really in my life. As fucked up as it is, he finally sees me. Every time he sends me on a job and I can deliver, he's fucking proud of me. Seeking his approval has become like a drug to me.

But in the process of gaining his approval, I'm losing myself.

I look down at my reddened hands. I try to remember the hands that have cradled my son ... the hands that have held my wife. These are not the same hands. No, these hands took a man's life just hours ago. To think of them holding my son or touching my wife now, allowing my family to be tainted by the pain and violence they can inflict, makes my stomach roll.

Going back into the main room, I snatch my abandoned bottle of Jack, ignoring the call to join a game of pool. Without a word, I walk past the guys and mice hanging around and head straight for my room. I navigate the darkness and head toward the small bathroom. Reaching into the shower stall, I turn on the hot water until steam fills the small space. I take another healthy swig of whiskey and place the bottle on the floor before stripping down and stepping under the harsh spray. The water coming from the cheap-ass shower head should feel like needles against my skin, but it hardly registers.

I still feel numb.

I close my eyes and allow the water to wash over me, wishing it could wash away the choices I've made, wash away the sins I've committed. But as the water runs cold, I remind myself it isn't that simple.

Stepping out, I grab a towel and dry off. I wrap the towel tightly around my waist, pick up the bottle of Jack, and head toward my bed. The light from the bathroom helps me find my pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. I close my eyes and let the nicotine soothe my jagged edges as I draw it into my lungs. The sounds of music and laughter filter down the hallway and into my room. I bring the bottle to my lips and tilt it back, the whiskey burning its way down my throat.

There's a faint knock, and judging by the lack of power behind it, it's not one of the guys.

I force myself to get out of bed and open the door. Staring back at me is the same blue-eyed mouse who's been sniffing around for months. I can't remember her name. She looks like all the others—a halter top and painted on lips and jeans.

And just like the others, she's a nameless, faceless body for the guys to pass the time with.

Wordlessly, she slips past me, walking into my space and looking around. She finally turns to face me. "Saw you come in here with that," she says, motioning toward the bottle I'm still holding like a lifeline. "Thought I could help you finish it off."

I look at the bottle in my bruised hand and back to her. From this distance, she's as pretty as the next one. With her shiny hair and makeup, she looks like the kind of girl you could take to dinner and a movie. But the harder you look, the more you can see she looks like your bruised hand. That hair you thought was shiny is caked with hairspray, and the colors over her eyes are creased and smudged. You realize she's the kind of girl you bend over your bed and send off with a pat on her ass.

She's the kind of girl you use to forget the mess you're making of your life.

Startling me from my errant thoughts, the mouse walks toward me, her hands coming to rest on my bare chest. "So, how 'bout it, Mase? You gonna share that drink with me?"

Looking at her, she's not much. Too thin, too blonde, too made up. Just a way to feel good for a few minutes with no strings attached. I don't have to pay her bills. I don't have to answer to her about where I've been or what I've done. She isn't going to lie to me.

She's here for me to use, and for the first time, I'm not going to turn her down.

I walk around her and bring the bottle to my lips, swallowing down another mouthful and wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. "Lock the door."

With a small smile on her lips, she closes the door, clicking the lock into place.

The sun shines through the window, making my head pound. But as awareness creeps in, I realize the pounding is keeping in time with the pounding on my bedroom door.

"Ugh, what is that noise?" The raspy voice comes from the warm body beside me, her blonde hair a tangled nest on her head.

I push her away from me and roll off the mattress, grabbing my discarded towel from last night and wrapping it around my waist. It takes a second to get my bearings, to get my feet under me, but I manage to get to the door and wrench it open. "What?"

Bella's small fist is mid-knock, her eyes wide and her body frozen when she sees me. A rustling behind me gains her attention, and when her gaze locks on the bed, all the color drains from her face.

"Baby, I can explain," I rush out as she backs away from me. I reach for her, and she seems to snap out of her daze.

She lurches back, her body colliding with the wall opposite my door. "Don't touch me!" She jerks away from me and runs down the hallway.

"Bella, wait!"

She disappears around the corner, and as I grip at the fabric wrapped around me to run after her, my brother appears at the end of the hall.

"What the fuck is going on?"

I try to rush past him, but he grabs my arm and wrenches me back. "Get the fuck off me, man. I need to—"

"What did you do?" His eyes burn a hole through me, that is, until something over my shoulder gets his attention.

I don't have to turn around to know what he sees.

Never in all my life have I seen Edward so angry. His jaw is clenched so tightly, I can hear his teeth grinding together. His nostrils are flared, and his eyes are practically glowing with rage.

"What the fuck did you do?" he growls.

I meet his murderous stare with one of my own. "It's none of your fucking business. Let me go."

His voice is so low, it's not much more than an angry hum, but I can hear his words loud and clear. "She doesn't deserve this shit, Mase."

"Don't you think I know that?"

"Then why the fuck did you—"

Fed up with his interrogation, I push back, shoving him away from me. "Step off, man. It's not your problem."

"Not my problem?" He chuckles, turning away from me. "Not my problem?" he shouts before spinning around and slamming his fist into my stomach.

A shrill scream sounds behind me as I double over and drop to my knees, the wind knocked out of me.

Without a word, he steps past me, leaving me gasping for a breath. And when I can finally breathe, the acid crawling up my throat stings as it coats my tongue.

The bitter taste of regret is hard to swallow.

The house is quiet when I get home. The TV is off, Sam's toys aren't scattered all over the living room, even Gran is nowhere to be seen. I tread lightly down the hallway toward our room, wondering what I'll find when I get there.

I don't dare open Sam's door when I pass it, for fear I'll find his room empty. It would serve me right if she left and took my kid with her.

When I open our bedroom door, I'm not at all surprised to see open bags on our bed, half-full. What I don't expect to find is Bella sitting on the far side of the bed, staring out the window.

"I was worried last night when you didn't come back." She pauses, bringing her hand to her face, wiping at her nose. "Then I decided you just needed to cool off. You always do, then we talk, and everything is okay again. So, I dropped Sam off with Alice this morning and thought I'd come down to the clubhouse and sort it out before you even came home."

"Bella, I can—"

"It took a second for my brain to catch up with my eyes." Her laugh is hollow. "I spent the whole drive home trying to figure out what I was going to pack to take with us. Our clothes, Sam's toys. Then I started thinking about where we could go. I could go to your sister's, but Alice would tell me to try and work it out with you, and I can't go to Rose's. I wouldn't put it past her to slit your throat. The Honda isn't reliable enough to get me very far. I don't have enough money to buy us bus tickets to anywhere. Then I started thinking about what I'd do to support myself and Sam when we got where we were going." She finally turns, her red-rimmed, puffy eyes meeting mine, and her cheeks wet with her tears. "I realized I have nowhere to go."

She watches as I walk around the bed, her eyes never leaving me, and I fall to my knees at her feet.

"I—" I close my eyes and swallow the bile creeping up my throat. "I'm so sorry, Bella," I rasp. "I ... I'm so fucking sorry."

"Why?" she asks, her voice breaking. "Am I not enough? Is your family not enough? How could you do that, Mase?"

I look up at her and see how badly I've hurt her, and it breaks what's left of my heart. I reach for her hands, and even though they're stiff, she lets me take them. I want to promise her it'll never happen again. I want to tell her everything will be okay.

But I can't.

And as she gazes down at me, her sad eyes meeting mine, I know she wouldn't believe me if I did.

Summer 2018

They say the first time is the hardest, no matter what you're doing, and I have to agree. The problem is, after the guilt wears off, the draw is still there. The pull to feel something other than the sharp pain of disappointment that your wife can barely stand to look at you. You realize that to feel something again, you have to travel that same dark, twisted path.

I wish I could say once was enough. That after the first time, the remorse was enough to keep me faithful. But maybe there's more of my old man in me than I want to admit, because now it's almost reflexive ... a vicious cycle. We fight, we rage, hateful words are said, and I leave. And every time I follow a patch whore into my room at the clubhouse, the daggers coming from my brother's stare are nearly enough to kill me where I stand.

Things are okay for months at a time, but the fighting, fucking, begging for forgiveness routine is an endless cycle for us. And every time, Bella unfailingly takes me back, choosing to try and forget how badly I've hurt her. My grandmother doesn't try to mask her disappointment in me. She can hardly stand to look at me most days. Between my belonging to the club and my nefarious ways, she says I'm just like my father and beyond redemption.

But I couldn't care less about disappointing my grandmother. The only person I need forgiveness from is the only person I can't seem to stop hurting.

Fall 2019

"Where have you been?" Bella's standing at the sink, washing dishes.

I toss my keys on the table and head straight for the fridge to grab a beer, ignoring her question. I'm still buzzing with adrenaline from the run. I grab a bottle and crack it open, closing the fridge and leaning against the counter.

When she finally turns around, her eyes narrow. I don't have to imagine what she sees. My knuckles are red, and I'm sure my face is banged up once again. It's more than obvious I've been in another fight.

"What the hell happened to you?" Her tone isn't concerned. She isn't the worried wife she was the first time I showed up bruised and bloodied after beating some sorry bastard to death. This time she's angry.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for asking." I storm out of the kitchen toward the bedroom, just to get away from the scathing looks she's shooting my way. But it doesn't stop her from following me down the hallway.

"I asked you a question, Masen!"

I spin on my heel and get in her face. "Back the fuck off." I turn and try to walk away, but when she grabs for my arm, I lose it, shaking her off and making her stumble back into the wall. "I said back off, Bella!"

"Why are you being like this?"

"Why are you asking me so many fucking questions?" I try to close our bedroom door behind me, but she wedges herself past me. "I'm not in the mood to talk about this right now."

"And I don't give a shit." She lowers her voice. "You owe me an explanation."

"I don't owe you anything." I rummage through my drawer for a clean pair of boxers so I can take a fucking shower, but she won't quit.

She yanks on my arm, forcing me to look at her. "Then you owe your son an explanation. You get to tell him why Daddy missed his kindergarten open house."

I close my eyes and tilt my head back, groaning. "Shit. That was tonight?" I turn to look at her.

"Yes, you selfish son of a bitch." What I've come to recognize as angry tears well in her eyes. "You can disappoint me all you want. I'm a big girl, and I can take it. But I'll be damned if you're going to make promises to our son and then break them so you can go beat the shit out of somebody. And let's not forget topping the day off by getting some patch whore to suck your dick."

"I wasn't—" I shake my head. If I told her I haven't bagged a mouse in months, she wouldn't believe me. "Is he still awake?"

"It's eleven o'clock, Mase. Of course he's not still awake."

I heave a sigh and hang my head. "I'll try to make it up to him."

"Don't you dare make a promise to him you can't keep." She reaches for a thick, colorful piece of paper on our dresser and hands it to me.

The stick figures are crude, but I can't mistake the blond man and dark-haired little boy side-by-side, a two-wheeled something that I think it supposed to be a motorcycle beside them.

"He still looks up to you, and I won't take that away from him." She stares until I look up at her. "You need to step up, Mase. He's the only thing holding us together."

February 2020

The guys throw an impromptu party for me, but as with anything else the guys throw together for the club, it turns into a free-for-all. The booze is flowing, and the girls are doing a good job of keeping us entertained, but for whatever reason, I'm not feeling it.

"You don't look like you're having much fun," E says, throwing an arm around my shoulders, shaking me. "Loosen up."

"I should probably call it an early night."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just got a lot on my mind."

He studies me for longer than I'm comfortable. "You good to ride home?"

"I'm good." I hold up the beer in my hand. "I think I've been nursing this for the last hour."

He looks around the room and back to me. "I know I'm gonna come off sounding like a pretentious prick who's sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, but I'm glad you're not sticking around."

My brows furrow in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you going home to your wife instead of sticking around here to bag a mouse."

"I'm out." I start to walk away, but he reaches for my arm, stopping me.

"Mase, stop."

I shrug him off, not ready to hear his tale of woe one more time, about how he lost Bella and I should be taking better care of her. It's something I've heard far too many times. He's made it painfully clear that he thinks I'm a waste of space for putting her through the shit I have.

I don't need any reminders.

When I walk through the door at home, Gran is tucked away in her room. It's past Sam's bedtime, so he's long since asleep, and Bella is nowhere to be seen. Opening the door to our room, I find her lying in our bed, dressed in a tank top and pair of sleep shorts, a half-empty bottle of Jack in her hand.

"Are you done with your harem already?" she says, her voice raspy but her words clear.

I kick off my boots and strip off my cut. "You're drunk."

"I'm enjoying the gift I bought you since you didn't come home tonight. Figured one of us should reap the benefits." She shrugs and takes a small swig straight from the bottle.

"My gift, huh?" I snatch it from her hand and guzzle down a shot or two, the burn cutting almost as deeply as her eyes as she stares at me.

"Yup. I get you one every year. Or were you already drunk on house pussy and you forgot I was waiting at home for you?"

"Stop." I plop down beside her on the bed. "I didn't forget you were waiting on me. In fact, I bolted before things really got going."

"So, you struck out? Must get hard to pick from the roster when you've already taken them all out for a spin." The bitterness oozes out of her, and even though what she's accusing me of isn't true—I haven't been with every mouse at the clubhouse—the sentiment is.

I've had my pick of distractions, and she knows it.

I take another swig, letting it warm my chest. I swivel my head in her direction. With her head tilted back, resting on the headboard, and her eyes closed, I can drink in the sight of her without being snapped at.

She's always been beautiful. From the first moment I laid eyes on her when I was a skinny high school junior, I knew she was something special. Her smile always lit up the room, and even when she didn't know I existed, I had it bad for her. I'll always kick myself for not being the one to talk to her first.

Maybe things would have been different for us.

Beside me in our bed, my wife sighs. "You used to be such a good guy, Mase," Bella says, her eyes still closed. "What the fuck happened to you?"

I shrug. "My old man happened."

"Don't give me that bullshit." She blinks, and I know she's looking at me through bleary vision. "You can't use him as an excuse."

"The club?"

She shakes her head then thinks better of it, closing her eyes and swallowing. "It's not the club that's the problem. Your brother isn't the cold bastard you've been the last few years. Do you not— Is it me?" Tears well in her eyes. "I know I'm a nag, and—"

"Come here." I reach for her with one hand and put the bottle on the nightstand with the other. When she's in my arms I wrap them around her and bury my nose in her hair. It feels like ages since we were this close, and I revel in the sensation of just holding her. "It's not you, Bella."

I close my eyes, wishing she wasn't three sheets to the wind, because there are things I need to tell her, things I want her to remember. My thoughts are both hazy and crystal clear.

"You're the best thing to ever happen to me," I whisper. "You were there for me when no one else was." She pulls back and looks up at me with blood-shot eyes. "You're my best friend."

It's been months since she let me touch her, and when my lips land on hers, it's like a dam breaks ... for both of us. My hand cradles the back of her head as my tongue explores her mouth, the familiar taste of her masked by the whiskey. It's a reminder that her inhibitions are down, but I'm too much of a selfish bastard to stop myself.

Her fingers weave into my hair, and she pulls me closer, pressing her body harder against mine as I deepen the kiss. My heart races and my blood begins to heat, and I know it's not the Jack.

When her fingertips graze the collar of my t-shirt, the feeling of her skin on mine, even in that innocent touch, seems to set us both off. I turn us, hovering over her, and her hands slide inside my shirt, burning a path as they glide over my chest.

"I want you," she says, her words carried on a breath. "Please, Mase. Make me forget I hate you."

I close my eyes and rest my forehead on her chest, wishing I could take back the last few years. It's no secret I've nearly destroyed her, but when we're both naked, when I'm finally inside the woman I love with every fiber of my being, it's almost like none of it matters.

As I begin to move, when she clutches at me and gasps my name, I can imagine that we're going to be okay. I pretend all the shit I've done to her—the lying, the cheating, the hateful words I've spewed in her direction—didn't happen. I close my eyes and imagine I haven't been her second choice from the beginning. I pretend for a brief moment I haven't pissed away our chance.

Later, when we're lying spent and Bella is cradled in my arms with her head on my chest, she whispers into the darkness, "I wish you loved me like I love you. I think it's why I hate you so much."

I kiss her forehead and pull her closer to me. "I know, baby. I know."

And I understand, because no one can hate me more than I hate myself.

A/N: This was a wild ride, guys. It started out as a small piece to donate to the fundraiser because so many of you asked about what broke up Edward and Bella. I genuinely thought I would be able to tell the tale in somewhere around 20k words. But then many of you asked for more. You wanted the nitty gritty. I hope I was able to deliver.

I never set out to write so much of Masen and Bella's story, but I'm so glad I did. As it evolved, I think it added an extra layer to Clutch, giving insight into the character's motivations in ways I wouldn't have been able to if this were part of the other story. It's also turned into one of my favorites of my stories. I absolutely and unapologetically fell in love with Masen as he really came to life in this story, demons and all. It gave me the freedom to try something different, too—a non-HEA—so thank you for indulging me.

I'd like to thank KJ for her amazing beta skills, even though she was through with Masen before this one started. Lol. And to all my girls who have been absolute gifts as prereaders at different stages of this story—2brown-eyes, aushapasha, bbmassey88, BitterHarpy, ceceprincess1217, and Pamela Lorraine. You've all given me such great feedback and held my hand when I thought I was steering off-course. I love you all. Xo

And to the readers who gave this one a chance—thank you. I know it was difficult for many of you to read a non canon pairing, even if it was only temporary. For others it was difficult to read knowing there would be no HEA. Your faith in me is treasured.

I'm planning several outtakes for this and Clutch, so be sure to follow the Clutch and Shift Outtakes story on my profile. And if you think of something you'd like me to cover that wasn't included in the story, shoot me a PM or review to tell me. I'm already having a hard time letting go of Masen. ;)

The best way to stay up to date with what I'm up to, check out my Facebook group, Sunshine Fics. I'd love if you all could join us. I'm also on Twitter at CSunshine1220.

We'll be back to Clutch next week! "See" you then!

Be kind.
Stay safe.
Stay well.
Lots of love

~Sunshine