Chapter 8
Sutton
Staying in Mason’s home was a mistake. It was only going to make things harder when I had to return to my apartment. Alone. Cold. No Mom. No Harper.
No Mason.
Somehow the idea of not having Mason close at hand felt almost worse than not having Mom. And that scared the hell out of me. He shouldn’t be important to me. Not like this, as if he were air. Not this quick. Not ever.
Yet he was, and I was falling deeper with each thump of my silly heart.
Arguing was pointless. I didn’t want to go home, didn’t want to be away from him or even Harper. Two days, and these two people had become invaluable and precious to me. Not even that long, if I was truly honest with myself.
It was when Harper had sat down in the front row during the competition, right in that chair that was meant for my mother. I felt it then, the shift. Not just inside me, but the world in general—my world. I’d gotten stuck on the same thought repeatedly: Mom sent Harper to me in my moment of need.
Mason was a bonus. A friend, a real one. Not the fleeting kind that casually passed through a person’s life. Someone who understood me on a deeper level naturally.
I was thankful for that, for both of them, in so many ways. There was no way I could ever repay either of them for staying with me the last few days.
Yet, I still argued with Mason. I couldn’t stay. Shouldn’t. Not when I was already so close to giving him my whole heart. It wouldn’t end well. He’d break me.
“I have school. And work,” I said, glaring at him from the incredibly comfortable couch where he’d set me. “My mom’s plants need to be watered. And I have to talk to my landlord about the lease.”
Mom adored her plants, and I’d taken over the care of them when she’d gotten sick.
They had been her second priority when I would visit her at the hospice house.
She would always ask how I was first, then demand to know if her flowers were still growing.
I still had a detailed text from her on my phone, telling me exactly how to maintain and keep them growing.
As for the lease, Mom’s name was the one on it.
I needed to get that switched over when I paid the rent.
Otherwise, my landlord could say I was squatting and kick me out.
That was something I hadn’t allowed myself to consider.
Primarily, I’d been focused on winning the competition so I could have the money for rent. Then I could deal with everything else.
“I watered the plants when I stopped to pick up your change of clothes, sweetheart. I packed a little extra since you will be staying with Mason,” Harper said with one of her smiles that warmed me from the inside out.
“No working until the doctor approves it, which I explained to your boss, who was very accommodating and wishes you a speedy recovery. Your headmaster agreed that exempting you from finals was more than fair, considering the circumstances and your high GPA. As for the landlord, he and I had a chat.”
“Really?” She nodded, and the growing tension that had tightened my body eased.
I liked my boss. He’d been sympathetic during Mom’s illness, and all my coworkers had chipped in to give me a small fruit basket and a few gift cards to Target and Starbucks.
After her death, they’d sent flowers, and my boss, Marv, had told me to take as much time as I needed.
I’d only lasted three days before the walls had felt like they were closing in around me, so I’d begged for any shift I could get.
If I wasn’t at school, I was working, and if I wasn’t working, then I was practicing for the competition.
My landlord, on the other hand, was someone I’d been avoiding as much as possible.
He’d come by the apartment several times while Mom was sick.
Those sudden visits escalated once she was placed in the hospice house.
She hadn’t wanted to die in our home, kept saying that she didn’t want our good memories overshadowed by the worst ones.
At first, Lars said he wanted to make sure I was doing okay on my own.
Then he started flirting, and it didn’t take long before he was trying to touch me.
A palm on my shoulder. Squeezing my fingers in passing.
A brush of his body against mine. Those casual grazes morphed into more even quicker.
His hand brushing over my chest—oops, sorry about that.
Instead of my shoulder, he would put his hand on my hip and rub.
I always stopped it, and he always laughed it off, making excuses.
The last time I’d seen him, he’d commented on how hot he thought I was.
How my tits were small and my ass was nonexistent, but he liked that the most about me.
At the time, I’d been too nervous that he would find a way to kick me out of the apartment if I offended him, so I kept quiet and had avoided him ever since.
Harper had bought me some time before I had to face Lars again, and I was eternally grateful. “Thank you, Harper.”
She gave me another one of her smiles and then looked at her son. “I have a meeting that I can’t miss. Lucy has been covering for me this morning, but she’s about out of patience with the other editors. I wouldn’t be surprised if she fires all of them before lunch.”
“Good luck with that. I’ll check in later. I have a few shoots scheduled throughout the week, but I’ll probably pass them off to one of the other photographers.”
From the little Mason had told me about his work, he used his passion for photography—something he and Harper shared—to help out his mom. From snippets of other details, I’d surmised that he was a jack-of-all-trades kind of guy, stepping in to help whenever and however anyone needed.
“I’ll take care of it, arrange for one of the newbies to step in. They need more exposure.”
“It’s the second- and third-place winners,” Mason reminded her, and for a brief moment, I saw something different filter over Harper’s face. Calculating, almost. Determined. A little…unforgiving.
Tyler and Maya were the second- and third-place winners.
The magazine edition would be dedicated to the three of us, provide hype for the school, exposure for the fine arts and each winner on an individual level.
I was glad I wouldn’t have to deal with Maya, that she and Tyler were already scheduled to come in separately for their interviews and photo shoots.
“I’ll handle it,” Harper said, her tone firm. “You focus on our girl.”
While Mason walked her out, it hit me. We were going to be alone. No nurses coming in to check on me, no Neil at the door, no Harper to buffer. It was only us.
Nervous energy hummed through me, my heart beating in a way that wasn’t fear. Excitement and…awareness.
Shifting on the couch, I tucked my feet beneath me, looking for something to do. A remote to the TV. A book or magazine to read. An app on my phone.
He was gone for less than a minute, his blue-gray gaze landing on me as soon as he reentered the room. I bit the inside of my cheek, unsure of what to do now.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I surprised myself by saying. “I’m not your responsibility. Until recently, we were complete strangers.”
He stood at the end of the couch staring at me for a long moment. “I don’t do anything I don’t want to.”
I nodded, shifting my gaze to my phone, pretending to check my emails.
“You don’t want to admit it to yourself yet, but we both know the truth, beautiful girl.”
Frowning, I glanced up at him, and my heart began to race. Heat filled his gaze, a hunger reflecting back, one that I didn’t want to admit matched my own.
“We may have only just met, Sutton, but we were never meant to be strangers.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Do you believe in soul mates?” My silence had his lips ticking upward.
It wasn’t that I believed one way or another about things like that.
Fate had a way of getting what she wanted.
There was good and evil in the world. Kindness and generosity.
Greed and corruption. Real-life angels and demons.
Whether they came from a higher calling, I still hadn’t figured that out.
Soul mates, though… That wasn’t something I’d ever taken the time to consider.
“I do,” Mason said when I remained quiet, his tone firm in a way that commanded me to pay attention. Alerting me that this was an important conversation. “I believe in it because I’ve seen it. Without a single doubt, I believe.”
Before I could digest that or reply, he was moving, shifting the conversation. “You need food before you take your meds. I’ll make sandwiches. Vi and Shaw dropped by and stocked the fridge while we were at the hospital.”
“I can help.” I stood and he stopped. “What?
“You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I got plenty of rest in the hospital. You barely let me get out of bed. Now I have all this restless energy bottled up.” He just stood there, one brow raised. Throwing my arms up in frustration, I glared at him. “It’s only a sandwich, Mason.”
“You can watch while I make them,” he negotiated. “That way, you can tell me what you want.”
“What I want is to make my own damn sandwich,” I complained, following him into the kitchen.
“Too bad,” he dismissed, crossing to the fridge.
“I have turkey, ham, salami, and a rotisserie chicken that has already been separated from the bones. Vi always does that, putting the white and dark meat in separate containers. She even prepped the vegetables for us. Roasted peppers, carrot sticks, lettuce, and tomato.”
“I would have been fine with a PB and J.”
“Beautiful girl, you need more protein than that. And I know you’re not a vegetarian, so pick which meats you want.”
“Whatever.” Taking a seat at the small island, I watched him build sandwiches. “I guess that chicken does smell really good.”
He began arranging the rotisserie chicken on a slice of bread.
“Just the chicken. No condiments, please. Carrots on the side.”
“You sure you don’t want any ketchup drizzled over the top?” he asked, serious, not teasing, even though a smile played on his lips. “My nephews like them like that. Not gonna lie, it tastes pretty good. I use hot sauce mostly, though.”
“Chef’s choice,” I said with a shrug.
He did a thin drizzle across the meat, drawing a heart before adding the top slice of bread and cutting it in half.
It was sweet and kind of adorable the way he took extra care drawing the heart art.
No doubt he did that all the time for his sister’s children.
I bit the inside of my cheek, giving myself a mental scolding for finding that hot.
After adding carrot sticks to the plate, he slid it in front of me. “What’s your verdict?”
I took a small bite and chewed slowly, taking my time, waiting until I swallowed before responding. “Not bad. A solid eight out of ten.”
As we ate, I began to relax. Mason was easy to be with, even in the silent moments.
I didn’t have to fill the quiet voids, didn’t feel a strained tension like I did with some people I’d known for years.
Even though something lingered in the air between us, a spark that was just waiting to catch flame, I was comfortable in his presence.
I felt seen and safe, both of which had been missing from my life for way too long.