Playing His Own Games | ✔︎

chapter twenty-five | drying his tears

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"Today my forest is dark. The trees are sad and all the butterflies have broken wings."
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Carrie

"YOU SHOULD SMILE MORE," Kane tells me as we ascend the front steps towards my house. The patio is illuminated with dull yellow lights as the sensors pick up our presence.

I offer him a smile that I know doesn't reach my eyes and pull my cardigan tighter around me. "That good enough for you?"

He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into a suffocating embrace, his meaty fingers digging into flesh. "I love you, Carrie."

"I love you, too," I reply, numb to those three words I've spoken so often in the past month, since the incident in the car with Kane.

He presses his cold lips against my temple, icy fingers leaving trails across my skin. "You're an angel, babe. Since I'm staying over tonight, I was thinking I could use your shower."

My heart sinks like a stone down to the bottom of my stomach. "Staying?" I echo, struggling to recall him ever mention sleeping over at my house.

"Your mum won't mind, will she?" Kane's dark eyes bore into mine as he brushes the strands of hair that had fallen over my face out from my eyes.

Does it matter if I mind? I think to myself, not daring to say it aloud. "No. She won't care." Being half past eleven on a school night, my parents will be asleep. Typically I don't stay out late on Thursday nights but, like always, Kane managed to 'convince' me.

I use my keys to open the front door and shut it softly behind us. We head upstairs as quietly as possible and slip into my bedroom. Kane gathers what he needs for his shower and ducks out of the room to go to the bathroom, leaving me sitting cross-legged on my bed, my heart and head heavy with conflicting emotions.

My eyes automatically drift towards my window. I've pulled the curtains back, allowing mostly artificial light from the streets and next-door neighbours to pour through. Small streaks of moonlight filter through and I enjoy watching the patterns dance throughout the night. Truth to be told, the only reason I started keeping my curtains drawn open is because I'm secretly hoping I will see Mason.

Thirty days have passed since Mason dropped to his knees in front of me and begged for my forgiveness. He hasn't shown up to school or hockey practice since and I've seen him a total of two times, both through my bedroom window. I'm not going to lie—I miss him. I miss his attitude, I miss our endless bickering that typically ended in laughter, I miss our immature jokes we made just to make the best out of a situation, I miss the nights we spent texting each other. I miss his smile, his laugh, his voice.

I miss Mason Foster.

After God knows how long I've spent ruminating, Kane appears at the doorway, water dripping from the tips of his hair and a towel wrapped around his waist. "Shut the window. It's fucking cold."

I wince at his harsh tone but don't obey. "I like it. It's peaceful."

He scowls, jaw jutting out. "Carrie, I've let you keep the damn window open every time I've been over. It's getting ridiculous."

"It's not even the window!" I argue, pulling my duvet up to my chin as I avoid meeting his gaze. "It's the curtains."

"Christ, woman, you've gone crazy!" Kane exclaims, marching over to the window and yanking the curtains shut. "Next time I come over I'll bar the Goddamn thing."