Page 46 of Fallen Hero

“Come again?”

I could feel his eyes on me. I could also hear the click of Mase turning back into Mason the watcher.

“You’re getting ready to analyze me. I can feel your scrutiny. We’re in a judgment-free bubble, remember?”

“Did you hear that on social media? The ‘we listen, and we don’t judge.’ Hate to tell you, but the faces gave it away—every nose scrunch, every wide-eyed response, every jerk of the shoulders—they judged. We used to associate judgment with discernment and intelligence. Somewhere along the way, we’ve changed the meaning. It’s no longer thought of as common sense and the ability to read a situation and make judgment calls on the outcome.

“If I were to judge you on a good deed you did, and draw the conclusion I thought you were a kind, thoughtful person, that would be okay. If I saw you kick a puppy and thought you were an asshole who deserved to be punched in the head, some people would think that was okay. But if I saw someone behaving in a way I found personally abhorrent, that would be wrong. That would make me the bad guy for passing judgment. That would make me the dick, even if all I did was distance myself.

“What it is, and what I am, is honest. I could not give the first fuck if someone thinks I’m an asshole. I don’t give any consideration to what people think of the job I do, how I do it, or their judgment on the matter. We—you and I—do important work. We save lives, and I don’t give a fuck who judges how I go about doing it. If they don’t like it, they can get their asses off the couch and do it themselves. They can breathe the misery. They can listen to the pleas for help. They can put themselves in harm’s way for a stranger in need.

“Straight up, Calli, I’ve already judged you, and you shouldn’t give a shit about my opinion of you. You should know who you are and what you believe in and that you are good down to your soul. And fuck whoever thinks otherwise.

“So with all of that, explain your question so I can give you my honesty.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted his honesty.

I wasn’t even sure I could articulate my thoughts.

“Never mind.”

“You’re pissed because I laid it out,” he guessed wrongly.

“No. I just don’t know how to explain it. I’m tired. I’m worn out. I don’t know if I can continue doing this—any of it. I don’t know if I have anything left. I’m broken. But in my head, I keep going back and forth. There are more Kiaras and Miras out there who need help. If I stop, what happens to them? I’m exhausted, and I’m exhausting myself with all the thoughts that run through my head that I can’t turn off.” I closed my eyes and sighed. “I’m tired of thinking.”

“The easy answer is—stop. Recognize the lives you’ve saved. Remember the two girls who are now on their way home. The honest answer is—there will always be more. Whether you’re in the fight or not, there will always be another Kiara and Mira. You can do this until there is nothing left inside of you, and that will not change. You cannot break yourself on a quest that will never end.”

“You’re right,” I whispered. “But I don’t know how to stop.”

I thought of the man who’d taken my sister.

One more.

I kept telling myself, just one more and I’d be done. I could go and find my peace. What were a few more marks when I was already slashed to hell? I bore no physical scars, but my insides were shredded. I was already ruined, so why stop now? There were more people I could help.

I was worthless. They were worth saving.

God, my life was exhausting.

I was floating.

Weightless.

Had I jumped?

I jerked awake and found myself in a pair of strong arms.

Mason’s strong arms.

My cheek was resting on warm flesh with a view of pecs with a dusting of hair. I wanted to touch it, so I did. My palm went to his chest, and sleepily I brushed over the swell, noting the texture—coarse over smooth. It was interesting, not how I thought it would feel. My fingers grazed his nipple. It tightened immediately, as did his entire frame.

Oh. My. God.

“Calli.” I felt the vibration.

My resulting shiver was unconscious and one I didn’t fully understand, but I wanted to feel that rumble again. I wanted my body to tremble. I wanted to feel something other than nothing.

My thumb brushed over his pebbled nipple again. This time I felt his tremor as it worked its way under my hand.