My brothers best friend

Chapter 15: Letting Go of the Past

(Edited)

Chapter 15

Valerie's Point of View

The morning light slices through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. I stand in the doorway of Mason's room, watching him as he slowly wakes. The air smells like stale beer and regret, a remnant of last night's chaos. I know he's going to feel it for a while—the physical hangover, sure, but it's the emotional one I'm more worried about.

I don't know how to approach him. We've never had a conversation like this before—not one that dives deep into everything we've buried. The distance between us has always been easier to ignore than confront. But last night, something cracked. Something I don't think either of us can pretend didn't happen.

Mason stirs, rubbing his eyes. His hair is a mess, and there's a shadow of stubble across his chin. He groans softly, sitting up, looking around the room like he's trying to piece everything together. I know what that feels like—the fog after a night like that.

"Morning," I say, keeping my voice light but soft.

Mason gives me a bleary look, his face twisted in a tired grin. "Morning... yeah, I'm still alive, I guess." He tries to sit up straighter but winces as if even moving hurts. He's not in much better shape than he was last night.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, sitting next to him on the edge of his bed.

"Like I've been hit by a truck," he says with a small laugh, but there's no humor in it. I can see it in his eyes.

"I get it," I reply, my voice quieter now. "But... are you okay?"

He runs a hand over his face, not looking at me. I can see the hesitation in his eyes, like he's weighing whether or not to let me in. Part of me wonders if I should just give him space, but I can't. Not after everything. Not after last night.

"I'm... fine, I guess," he says, but the way he says it makes it sound like the word itself is foreign to him. It doesn't sit right.

I wait, feeling the weight of the silence stretch between us. Then I just say it. "Mason, I'm not going anywhere. You know that, right?"

His gaze flickers to me, then drops back to the floor. He's not looking for sympathy, but I can see how much he's trying to hold himself together. He opens his mouth as if to speak but closes it again. I wait. I'm patient this time.

Finally, he speaks. "I don't know where to start," he admits quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've been carrying this shit around for years, and I don't know how to let it go. I don't even know if I can."

I nod, my heart tightening. I want to tell him that it's okay, that he doesn't have to carry it alone, but I also don't want to rush him. I want him to say what he needs to say.

"You don't have to carry it alone, Mason," I say softly. "You know that, right?"

He looks at me then, and I see something in his eyes—something raw, something vulnerable. It's like a crack opening in the wall he's been building for years.

"You wouldn't understand," he mutters, looking away again. "It's not the same for you."

I don't flinch. I don't take it personally. I know what he means. He's always felt like I had it easier than him. And in a way, I did. I was always the one who followed the rules, the one who stayed close to home. But it was never perfect for me either, even if it looked that way.

"Mason..." I say, but he cuts me off.

"You don't get it, Val," he says, voice low. "You've always had it easy. You've always had Mom and Dad's approval, even when you didn't want to be a lawyer. They let you do whatever you wanted. But when I wanted to be a doctor..." He pauses, swallowing hard, before continuing, "It was like they didn't even see me. They didn't care about what I wanted. All I ever got from them was disappointment."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I've always known things were tense between Mason and our parents, but I had no idea it ran this deep.

"You don't remember, do you?" Mason's voice cracks just a little. "When I told them I wanted to be a doctor, they shut me down. They told me it was a waste of time. They told me I was wasting my future. But you... you never had that. They never did that to you."

The weight of his words sinks deep into me. I don't know what to say. I feel like I've been walking around in a fog, blind to the reality Mason's been living with. It's like a thousand little things come rushing back to me, things I never realized because I was too focused on my own feelings, my own struggles.

I swallow hard, trying to find the right words, but I'm not sure I have them.

"I didn't know," I whisper. "I thought... I thought you just left because you didn't need me anymore."

Mason shakes his head, his jaw tightening. "I didn't leave because of you. I left because I couldn't stay there. I couldn't breathe in that house anymore. Every time I tried to be something, I was met with disappointment. Every time I thought I was doing the right thing, they made me feel like it wasn't enough."

I feel like everything in me shifts. All these years, I thought he left because of me—because I wasn't enough of a sister, because I was just too focused on my own life to see how much he needed me. But now I realize the truth. He left because of them. Because he was suffocating in their expectations.

"I... I'm sorry," I say, my voice cracking. "I didn't know. I didn't realize how much you were hurting."

He looks at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and something softer, something almost pleading. "It's not just about them, Val. It's about me. I've always felt like I was never enough. No matter how hard I tried, it was never good enough for them. It still isn't."

I don't know how to make it better, but I do know that this—right here—this is the first time we're really talking. And that, at least, feels like a start.

"I don't know if I can fix this," he says quietly, looking down at his hands, clenched tightly on his lap. "I don't know how to get over it."

"You don't have to fix it," I reply softly. "You just have to stop pretending it doesn't matter. You don't have to carry it alone anymore. I'm here, Mason. I'm not going anywhere."

He lifts his gaze, his expression uncertain, but there's something in his eyes that tells me he's hearing me. "I don't know how to let it go."

"You don't have to let it go all at once," I tell him. "But you can start by sharing it. You can start by not carrying it by yourself."

He doesn't respond right away. There's a long pause, the weight of everything we've just said settling between us. Finally, he exhales, a long, slow breath. "I guess... I guess I can try."

I smile, my heart lifting just a little. "That's all anyone can do. Just try."

For the rest of the afternoon, we don't talk much. There's still a lot to unpack, but for the first time in a long time, Mason and I are on the same page. We're not just sibling figures in each other's lives anymore. We're two people who are finally seeing each other for who we really are—imperfect, struggling, but still here.

And that, in itself, feels like a victory.