Hope Over Fear (Over #1)
Read Hope Over Fear (Over #1) Online
Authors: J. A. Derouen
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Hope Over Fear
Copyright © 2014 by J.A. DeRouen
Cover Design by Regina Wamba at
Mae I Design and Photography
Editing by
Madison Seidler
Formatting by
JT Formatting
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Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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“You Know Where I’m At” by Gavin DeGraw
“Sober” by Kelly Clarkson
I CAN’T STEADY the trembling of my hands. My insides shiver uncontrollably, and my heart hammers in my chest. A firing squad may be easier to face than what’s waiting for me behind my front door.
Walking slowly, I rub my sweaty palms on the legs of my skinny jeans. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I try unsuccessfully to calm myself. “You can do this. He deserves an apology. You’ve made your bed, and now you must lay in it,” I whisper to myself.
I skittishly jump as he knocks on the door again. Out of time, I swing the door open before I have a chance to change my mind and pretend no one’s home. I’m done acting like a coward.
At first sight, Mason brings back old feelings that I have yet to deal with. His perfectly mussed blond hair and golden tan scream hot surfer boy. His navy blue shirt stretches tightly over his broad chest, and his worn blue jeans hang deliciously low on his hips. He still looks like my Mason, the beautiful man I’ve come to know and love.
Until I reach his eyes. The deep chocolate brown eyes that used to look at me with such love, hope for the future, and admiration have vanished. They’ve been replaced with cold, almost black eyes. Upon closer examination, there is one emotion apparent behind his icy stare … pain. Pain that is of my doing. Pain for which I must atone.
“Mason, thank you for stopping by. You look good,” I whisper, barely audible, even to myself.
“Hey Sara. I’d really appreciate it if we could make this quick. I have somewhere to be. You wanted to see me about …” Mason prompts, almost robotically.
I loathe myself for what we have become. This is the man who could finish my sentences; this is the man who I could have an entire conversation with and never utter a word. We were that couple.
Mason and I had been best friends for two years before our romantic relationship began, and we enjoyed the comfort those years of friendship afforded us. Most people begin relationships letting the other person meet their “representative.” You know what I mean—the perfect version of you. The “I don’t fart, I don’t burp, I’ll have the salad” version of you. Mason and I were the real deal from the jump.
Now, though, the ease and familiarity of our relationship has been reduced to uncomfortable murmurs and vacant eyes. I open the door wider and step aside to allow Mason entry, and he follows me into the living room. His familiar smell invades my senses as he brushes past. I have to swallow the lump in my throat at the memories it invokes. After sitting down on the sofa and protectively drawing a pillow into my stomach, my gaze shifts up to Mason shifting awkwardly across the room.
“Please, sit down, Mase. I promise, I just want to talk.”
He reluctantly strides over to the recliner and slumps into the seat. I have a speech all planned out in my head for this very conversation. I’ve recited it to myself hundreds of times over the past few months. Now that I have my chance to speak to Mason, my mind is completely blank.
“Well, I really, uh, want to clear the air … I mean apologize …” I stammer, almost incoherently.
Mason sighs loudly, grips the back of his neck, and shakes his head. “I really can’t imagine what could be left to say after what happened in Dallas. I don’t believe you left any room for confusion. Everything was crystal clear, Sara.”
“I would give anything to change that day, to go back in time and make a different choice. I’d give anything to take away the pain I’ve caused you. You were the center of my life for so long. You were my rock for so many years. And I feel like my actions have thrown poison on everything about us that was good and right, and I’m so… sorry, Mason,” I plead, a sob escaping.
Taking deep breaths, I try to steady myself. This is more difficult than I thought. I look into Mason’s eyes, and I’ll be damned if I don’t see sympathy radiating back at me. Guilt washes through my body as I register how kind and loving this man is. How dare I even ask for his forgiveness? I know I don’t deserve it, but I need it. To move forward with my life, his forgiveness is essential.
Mason leans forward in the recliner, placing his elbows on his knees, giving me a searching glance. “Look, Sara, I was angry at you for a long time after Dallas. Fuck, angry doesn’t even seem to come close to describing how I felt. I
raged.
I
hated.
And then things slowly began to change. Circumstances … changed. With time, I was able to gain a new perspective. I was able to lay that hate to rest. To look forward to the future. I needed to free myself from our past. You need to free yourself of it, too, Sara. I can finally forgive you. I can’t promise to forget, but I can forgive.”
After his words, Mason appears lighter … happier …
free
. I hope to feel the same someday, and I feel certain that today, this moment, is a positive step in that direction.
As relief washes through me, I can’t stop the words from pouring out of me, “Mason, I can’t tell you how much that means to me. My mom, our friends, your family—they can think whatever they want about me. But I can’t bear the thought of you hating me. It paralyzes me. I want so much for you to be happy. You deserve to—”
“Sara, please stop. I need to tell you something.”
Mason pauses, seeming unsure how to continue. His eyes cast downward, then he slowly lifts his gaze and meets my eyes. “I’ve been seeing someone. I hate to just blurt something like this out, but I thought it was important that you know …”
I do my best to play the gracious ex-girlfriend and plaster a smile on my face. “That’s so great, Mason. I hope she realizes—”