𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄

ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴜɴᴅʀᴇᴅ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ

"I'm gonna go for a swim," he said suddenly.

And before Mason even had time to prop himself on his elbows and shout a few choice words that had something to do with the extra bone floating in his bathing suit, Kai was jumping in the waves. Mason let out a noise mixed between a sigh and a growl, scowling at the tease he married.

"I'll get him back for that," he said to no one.

"For what?" a new voice answered.

Startled, Mason lowered his hand from his chest as he turned and locked eyes with Maverick—he, who was standing in just swimming shorts himself, a towel slung over his shoulders.

"I thought you left," Mason said, turning back to the water.

"I was going to," Mav answered, planting his towel beside him, and sitting, "But Jase is in a bad mood and he doesn't want company, not that I can blame him. And with Blaine and Eden away getting extra treatment, and Franki ..." his thoughts trailed off into the air.

Mason's expression flattened as the memories of all his friends, and the words of Jase entered his brain as if they'd never left. Not in a bad way, but not necessarily good either. When they joined the mafia, they were all unwittingly signing their death certificates. They all knew that, whether they chose to admit it or not was their choice, but they knew it.

But it didn't make the sting of loss burn any less when it actually happened.

"I don't want to talk about that," Mav shook his head, "Can we talk about something else?"

Mason gazed at him—long enough that he rested his chin on his shoulder and acknowledged how many minutes passed where Maverick didn't spare him a glance.

Which was so un-Maverick of him.

But Mason knew what it meant. The exhibition he wore on his face like a mask, the feelings that radiated off his chest like a suit too-tight—it was all he'd ever known. The pain of losing someone, the uncertainty of where life would lead him, the fear that history would repeat.

It didn't matter who he was; Mason would always be an arm to cry on.

"Sure," Mason replied, "What do you want to talk about?"

"Us," he said quietly.

"Maverick, there is no us."

Finally, he turned to him. And those pools of aquamarine confidence and brilliance were depleted. Emptied out. Hardened from water to glass. His blonde curls laid undone over the tops of his ears and everything that made his friend his friend, was gone.

It was like Mason was seeing him for the first time—really seeing him.

"But there could be."

"Maverick, I'm married now. I'm happy."

"You could be just as happy with me if you'd just give me a second chance."

Mason let out a breath and shook his head, angling his chin to the clouds. He could spend the next few minutes explaining why they would never get that second chance, and his disinterest in the overall topic, and have it all enter one ear and spew out the other, or he could attempt something else.

Because even if there was something unspoken between them once, and now it had dilapidated into casual unrequited flirting, Maverick deserved the closure he sought.

"Have you ever spent weeks or months or even years figuring out a code?—and then you finally get it and this wave of relief hits you so hard in the chest, all you can do is smile and collapse into the nearest object—like you can't believe it's really happening to you?"