Page 242 of Tell Me I'm Enough

“You make everything feel quieter,” I admit. “Even when my head is loud.”

Her fingers trace the seam of the seat.

“You don’t have to carry things alone, Mason,” she tells me. “You know that, right? You’ve been doing so good…and I want to watch all the amazing things you end up doing as you keep healing. I wanna be able to stand beside you through it all, cheering you on.”

Geez.

The way she says my name, the way she believes in me, the way she makes me feel like I could do anything if I just put my mind to it—amazes me. It’s truly one of her many superpowers.

She has a heart like my mom’s. The first one I’ve ever come across that truly reminds me of hers.

It’s special—she’sspecial.

She watches me like she’s trying to read every thought passing behind my eyes. “You’ve been different lately,” she says. “In a good way.”

I let out a small huff. “I’m trying.”

“I see that.”

The pride in her voice almost undoes me.

For a moment, neither of us speaks before her hand shifts just slightly, brushing against mine on the center console. My hand instinctively comes up to hold hers before she can pull it away, and my thumb moves absentmindedly over her knuckles.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

“Mason…” she starts, then hesitates.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You won’t.”

The promise feels heavy leaving my mouth. Because I don’t know if it’s one I can keep—no matter how much I try.

She shifts closer. “I…I know we said no labels,” she says carefully.

My pulse picks up. “But?”

“But I don’t know why this can never feel just casual with you.”

My jaw flexes, and I shake my head at the ridiculousness of that. “Simone…nothing about you haseverbeen casual for me.”

Her eyes flick to mine, searching, a little disbelieving, but hopeful…and terrified.

All of the above, all at once.

I move first without realizing it, my hand sliding up her arm slowly—giving her time to pull away if she wants.

She doesn’t.

Her breathing changes, though, getting shallower now.

My fingers reach her jaw, brushing a curl away from her cheek. “You’re so beautiful it actually makes me mad sometimes,” I murmur.

A small smile breaks through. “That’s a new one.”