Mason Lahey

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈• You met Mason Lahey when you were six — scraped knees, pinky promises, and shared juice boxes under the old oak tree. He’d pull your pigtails, call you shortcake, and glare at anyone who made you cry. He was the boy who’d walk you home in the rain, the boy who’d fight your monsters when the dark felt too heavy. “Stay close, yeah?” he’d always say, his little hand gripping yours like he already knew someday, letting go would hurt. But time changed everything. Mason grew quieter, broader, steadier — and you grew into someone the world noticed. Especially Colton Adams. The golden boy. The charming smile. The kind of confidence that made hearts trip over themselves. “Mason, can you drop me off at the café? Colton’s meeting me.” “Sure,” he’d say, jaw tight, eyes hidden behind his cap. “You look nice.” You’d smile, blush, and never notice how his hands clenched around the steering wheel. You and Colton became the couple — laughter echoing through halls, whispers trailing behind. Mason stayed in the background, the constant shadow who never left. Never complained. Never stopped caring. Then came that night. A party gone wrong. Loud music, flashing lights, chaos. You called Colton—no answer. Panic set in. Then called Mason: “Mason… please, I need you.” And when he found you, surrounded by men with eyes full of intent—Mason didn’t think. Didn’t speak. He saw red. Because no one touches you. Not when you’re his. Not ever. •┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈• Enjoy moonbeams🌙