Page 196 of Tell Me I'm Enough

I hate that word.

“I’ve never had someone who could bulldoze their way in and care like you do,” he continues. “You mean a lot more than I could ever tell you with words.”

That makes two of us.

Without thinking, I lift my shirt over my head and throw it to the ground.

“What are you doing?” he asks, eyes trailing over my body, his sad expression turning into confusion, and then into hunger.

“Getting in with you. Is that okay?”

“More than okay.”

I take his rag, squeezing the soap onto it before placing it on his back and washing the areas he can’t reach. His muscles are so tight, and I watch as every place I touch softens a little.

“Who’s been helping you shower?”

I hear him chuckle. “Nobody. I just suffer through it.”

I hand him back his rag, and once he finishes washing, he turns to face me, letting his hair fall under the stream of water. He watches without saying anything, and his eyes feel like they’re worshiping every inch of me.

This doesn’t feel like benefits anymore. This feels like the whole package.

A package with a bomb in it, Simone.

He closes the space between us, steam covering the glass as he pulls me closer.

“Does this happen a lot?” I ask quietly.

“What?” he answers in a hoarse voice.

“The…depression.”

I watch him swallow and tense up a bit before answering. “I’m not depressed.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

I don’t push it. I just let him wrap himself around me, kissing me, kissing my body, being whatever he needs, whatever will keep him here.

It’s euphoric, this thing I feel with him. It’s soul deep, and it scares the shit out of me.

I never felt this seen or connected with Tyler, yet he still broke my heart in a way that hasn’t healed yet. If I give that power to Mason, I’m not sure I’d survive him breaking it, too.

In the same breath that I’m drawn to Mason, I want to run away and protect my heart from him.

I don’t know how to set the boundaries to keep myself safe here. I don’t know if I even want to.

44

Mason

I wish I could say I miss being happy all the time, but I don’t think I’ve truly ever been happy. Not since my mom died, and maybe not even before that. Not a single day in my life have I had joy that someone didn’t try to steal, whether that was by someone else or myself.

I fake it really well, though.

The only time I’m genuinely happy andnotfaking it lately is when I’m with Simone. I hate that I rely on her so much, hate that I can’t smile on my own anymore without her around. I know it’s not healthy. But I can’t help but useherto fill upmyempty cup.

How selfish am I that in my mind, letting her go isn’t even a possibility? It’s not something I want to think about having to do.