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Suddenly, I feel nothing but rage.
Mason finished second. To the world-champion points leader.
Yes, in F1, first place is everything—I understand that better than most people—but to say these things to your own son?
It’s abuse. And I’m stopping it right now.
I rap on the door, and Mason stops talking. “Dad, I’ve got to get ready to catch a flight,” he says, his voice coming closer to the door. He opens it, and even though the phone is against his ear, I can hear his dad yelling.
“Don’t try to avoid the truth I’m telling you. Your performance was rubbish. Absolute rubbish. I didn’t give you all that money to kart at the highest level for some American to teach you how to have enough guts to make the moves you should know how to make. Frankly, I’m embarrassed.”
Mason swallows hard. “Your feelings are loud and clear.”
“Then fix it at Baku!” his father roars.
Then it’s silent on the other end of the line. He must have hung up. Mason throws his phone down on the sofa and looks at me, humiliation all over his face.
My anger is replaced by the need to take care of him. To be here for him in whatever way he needs me to be.
“Is that how it always is?” I ask gently. “Is that how your own father talks to you every time you don’t place first on the podium?”
Mason turns away from me. “I’m sorry you heard that.”
I move in front of him, putting my hands on his face, forcing him to look at me. “Hey, you have nothing to be sorry about. But your father does. That’s verbal abuse, Mason. Has he always talked to you like that?”
Mason moves out of my grasp, raking a hand through his dishevelled hair. Then he looks at me. “Christ, what are you thinking right now?” he asks, his voice laced with pain. “That my dad is an arsehole, and I let him talk to me like that? What must you think of me?”
“No, no, I—”
He looks up at the ceiling tiles and swallows hard. “How could I ever bring you into this mess?”
An uneasy feeling grips me. “Mason, what are you talking about?”
He finally levels his gaze at me, his eyes full of regret and sadness. “I can’t do this,” he says, his voice rough. “You deserve better.” He laughs, but it’s bitter and sharp. “I’ve been to therapy. Lots of sessions with my sports psychologist. I know what I’m dealing with. I know he’ll never change. Yet here I am, trying to prove to him I’m worth every damn pound he put into making me an F1 driver.”
“Mason,” I say. “This isn’t about you.”
“But it is! He is a part of me, don’t you get that? And now I see how it impacts you.”
“Stop it,” I plead. “You’re upset, and you’re not thinking right.”
“No! I’m thinking logically now. I have to stop this. Stop us. Before you are further disappointed in me. Before my dad says something that hurts you. I can’t see you anymore, Catherine. I can’t.”
Chapter Twenty
“Mason. You’re being an idiot, and that stops right now,” I say firmly.
Mason blinks in surprise. I think of all the reactions I could have had to what he just said, this wasn’t one he anticipated.
I move in front of him again and reclaim his face with my hands. “We’re not doing this. You aren’t going to push me away for my own good like we’re on a stupid TV show. You aren’t going to break up with me because you’re embarrassed about your relationship with your dad. We’re not breaking up, and I’m not going anywhere. So no more of this. I mean it. I care about you, and that means all the parts of you—yes, including the harder parts like dealing with a toxic relationship with your dad. I told you about my complicated relationship with my mum. This is no different, and I’m not going to let you act like it is.”
Mason stares down at me, his eyes glossy with unshed tears.
“We’ll talk about this more when we’re back home,” I reassure him, reaching up and stroking his hair. “But you have done nothing wrong. And there’s nothing you need to protect me from. Your dad is the problem. Not you.”
He swallows hard a few times, and I continue. “I understand what it’s like to have a relationship with a parent where you’re not proud of your reactions or your feelings. But sometimes relationships are messy and charged and complicated. That’s what I have with my mum, and you have with your dad. But that doesn’t have to affect what we have with each other.”
Mason lowers his forehead and presses it against mine, his hands going around my back, and relief surges through me. I got through. I let him know that I understand where he is, and it doesn’t matter, not when it comes to my feelings for him.
