Doing It Right (Babe Squad)

by Harloe Rae

“A life without you is going to suck, but I can’t leave.” My tears stain his shirt with agony as I refuse him. “I know,” Mason murmurs against my temple. “You’re meant to stay here.” Determined resolve pumps into my slumped form as I push away from his embrace. “And you’re meant to be a star.”

“I’ll miss you, Peppy Girl. You’ll always be my first love.” His voice hitches with the admission.

“I’m glad you were mine, Mason Braxter. Even just temporarily.” He cringes. “Damn, that’s sad.” “Why?” “Because I can’t picture us as over.”

“Our paths will cross again, Peppy Girl.” My exhale is thick while I paste on a grin. There are no more tears to shed. “I’ll never reject a reunion invite.”

It’s been six years since I’ve seen Mason Braxter, yet in this moment it feels like just yesterday. He’s broader and more filled out—the toned definition of a professional football player. Time has been very kind to him.

“If it makes you feel better, Archie is the product of too many shots and a really terrible social experiment. Total accident. A big ol’ whoopsie. But I’d never take it back. Not even for a second.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You’re right about us being different people, and I can’t blame you. I’m the past. Why would the all-star athlete want to slum it with his ex-girlfriend who stayed behind in their small town?”

That mends a wound I didn’t notice was still festering. The persistent throb in my temples ebbs. “I’m tired of pretending, Pep.” “Then stop,” she whispers.

Presley waits at the end of this dark tunnel. There’s no convincing me otherwise.

Mason grabs my hand, threading our fingers together. “I’m home, Pep. Where I belong.”

“I love your mama, buddy.” There might be years of unanswered questions piled between us, and several challenges ahead, but my feelings for Presley remain constant. “Me too?” His sapphire eyes are filled with so much hope. The lump in my throat is a fiery ball that demands attention. I can’t concentrate on the numerous reasons why voicing his suspicion aloud is a bad idea. Fuck the repercussions. “Yeah, little man. I love you too.”

“You expect me to believe that you love my son?” The notion is outrageous, even if Archie is the cutest thing since puppies and kindergarten crafts. “Yes.” His casual tone rolls over my aggravated nerves. “How?” The thrum in my pulse skyrockets while I wait for his response. “He’s a part of you, Pep. It’s just natural.”

“Chad is a good man. He made me feel safe and cherished and wanted. I was practically starved of sensual contact. Until that night, I’d only ever been with you. No one since either.”

You stole my heart in seventh grade and I don’t accept returns.” “That’s not really how stealing works,” I tease. “There’s my girl.”

“What are you doing?” “Something I can’t stop thinking about. Something I should’ve done years ago.” I lower to one knee, snatching her left hand on my descent. “Making you mine. Completely and officially and for always.”

“We’re doing it right this time. No more leaving or separating or sacrificing.” I slap the tattoo that’s hidden beneath my shirt. “It’s always been you for me, Pep. You’re the only score that matters. My touchdown pass to win the game. Every single one. I love you.”

“And to loving the one you’re destined to be with, even if you need a second chance at doing it right.”