BETWEEN US AND THE PAST

CHAPTER14- SMALLVILLE

Lori left earlier than expected. Her parents’ medical mission got moved up, so she packed quickly, hugged Nugget one last time, and left the house feeling suddenly too quiet.

So I went out.

Just walking. No plan. No destination. Just air.

The street was busy—cars passing nonstop, headlights reflecting off the pavement, people moving along sidewalks, voices blending into traffic noise.

I kept my phone in my hand like it could ground me.

Just get food. Go home. That was it.

But halfway down the street, I slowed.

Three guys ahead.

Loud. Standing too close to the sidewalk edge. Taking up space like they owned it.

I shifted slightly, preparing to pass.

One of them stepped into my path.

“Hey,” he said.

I stopped.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, moving aside.

Another one looked at me. “You alone?”

“I’m just passing through,” I answered, already uneasy.

They didn’t move.

Instead, they stayed there—blocking the narrow space between me and the road.

Cars passed behind us, headlights sweeping across the scene.

My grip tightened around my phone.

“Excuse me,” I said again, firmer. “Let me through.”

Still nothing.

Just staring. Just waiting.

My chest tightened.

And then—

“I think she asked you to move.”

The voice came from behind me.

Calm. Controlled.

Mason.

All three turned.

He was already there.

Not rushed. Not loud.

Just present.

The kind of presence that made everything else feel smaller.

One of the guys scoffed. “Who are you?”

Mason didn’t even look at him for long.

“I said move,” he repeated.

Simple. Flat.

No threat in his tone. Just certainty.

A pause.

Then one of them stepped aside.

The others followed, annoyed but backing off.

The path opened.

Mason stepped closer—not touching me yet, just close enough that I instinctively shifted nearer to him without thinking.

“Go,” he said quietly.

I did.

Fast. Too fast.

We only stopped once we were a few steps away, near the edge of the sidewalk where the cars were moving normally again.

Only then did I realize my hands were shaking.

I stared at them.

“…I’m fine,” I said immediately.

My voice didn’t sound convincing,damn it.

Mason looked at me.

“I know,” he said.

That stupid calm answer again.

It made something in my chest tighten.

“I wasn’t scared,” I added quickly, even though my throat felt tight as I said it.

A pause.

Mason didn’t argue. Didn’t correct me.

He just stood there like he was waiting for me to finish PRETEND.

And that somehow made my control c***k.

My eyes burned suddenly.

Not fully crying. Just that awful pressure you can’t stop once it starts.

I blinked fast and turned my face away.

“This is ridiculous,” I muttered.

“It’s not,” he said quietly.

Cars passed behind us again, steady and normal like nothing had happened.

I swallowed hard.

“I had it,” I said again, softer this time.

“I know,” Mason replied.

Then, after a beat:

“But I saw it first.”

Silence.

My breath felt uneven.

I wiped under my eye quickly, annoyed at myself.

Mason didn’t react. Didn’t comment.

He just shifted slightly closer—not invading space, just enough that I wasn’t standing alone in the middle of the street anymore.

“You’re safe,” he said.

Simple. Direct.

And that was what finally made my chest loosen—

because for the first time in a while, I actually believed it.

And I hated how much I needed him to say it.

And I didn’t understand why something so small made my body react like that.

Mason shifted his bag strap slightly.

Then spoke, softer than before.

“You’re not overreacting.”

That made me pause.

I looked at him quickly. “I didn’t say I was.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said.

Silence.

That should’ve made me more defensive.

But it didn’t.

Instead, I just stood there, trying to get my breathing under control while the street kept moving around us like nothing had happened.

Mason glanced briefly down the road, then back at me.

“Walk with me,” he said.

Not a question. Not a demand.

Just… a direction.

I hesitated for a second.

Then nodded slightly.

“Okay,” I said.

We started walking.

Side by side.

Not touching. Not rushed.

Just steady steps away from that part of the street.

And slowly, my breathing started to match the rhythm of walking instead of panic.

Mason didn’t look at me while we moved.

But he also didn’t leave space between us.

And somehow, that was enough.