The Beauty in Eternity

Chapter 107.

"Mar," he repeats.

"Orange juice?" I ask, unscrewing the cap and turning to pour some into his glass.

He stands to his feet and stops my hand, lowering it onto the counter. I lift my eyes to look at him, and he raises his brow with a sad expression. "I'm sorry." I sigh.

"Don't be," he says, pulling out a chair for me.

I take a seat and pull it close to him, so that our knees are touching. "There's a specialist at my hospital, he works with people with PTSD. He'd be a good fit, I think you'd get along. And you should see a physical therapist, I know one of those too. You know, just to make sure you're healing the way you should be since you didn't get the proper post-op treatment. And maybe I could ask Jennifer if she knows-"

"Amara," he stops me.

I tug my fingers through my hair. "You do need to see someone, Mason. You know that, right?"

"I know."

"What about..," I approach cautiously. "Spending some time in-"

"No fucking way." he says abruptly, standing to his feet.

"Okay, okay," I nod, motioning for him to sit back down. "I didn't think you'd say yes. I'll contact some people, okay? Outpatient."

He seems reluctant, but nods and takes his seat. "Alright, I'll continue with breakfast."

I turn around and take a deep breath. I don't want to say the wrong thing and push him over the edge, or trigger something. I'm still processing everything that he told me last night. And the guilt for not understanding, for not knowing what he went through is eating me alive. The way I reacted when he came home. I convinced myself he was dead. I believed it. Because it was easier than wondering whether he was in pain somewhere, or just didn't want me anymore. That maybe he had found home again in Italy. Guilt.

The silence as I finish cooking is suffocating. I plate it up and place both of our plates on the counter, pulling up a seat. As I take a bite, I can feel his eyes on me. I don't have to look at him to know he's looking at me.

"I'm going to stay here for a few days... if you don't mind," I suggest, glancing up at him quickly before returning my gaze to the plate in front of me.

"That's fine."

"Have you... spoken to your brother?" I ask cautiously.

His brow furrows. "No, why?"

"Just wondering." I respond as casually as possible. I don't dare look at him—I do everything I can not to look at him. He can read me like a book, one glance and he'll know I'm lying. That his brother is probably using my face cloth to wipe his ass at Casa Woods right now.

I cough awkwardly. "I'm uh, not that hungry," pushing my plate away.

"Neither am I." he shrugs, copying my motion.

"Do you... need anything?" I ask with a smile, finally looking at him.

"No," he shakes his head.

"Okay," I nod. We're both walking on eggshells. "I'm going to shower, then I'll make some calls."

——————
2 days later...