21. Mason
21
MASON
“ I cannot believe I let you talk me into this.” Lana yawns as she climbs into the passenger seat of the SUV I borrowed from Montana. My truck would be less than comfortable for the hour-long ride, and this way Beck and Holland can sleep a little before we get there.
In the time since our first night out together, I’d made it a point to be present and available. I’d played catch with Beck and a couple of board games with Holland. Lana had made dinner, and a couple of times I’d picked up takeout.
We were still taking it slow, Lana and I showing minimal affection in front of the kids, but everything else was fair game. I wanted to get to know them and I wanted them to get to know me.
Which is how I’d convinced them this would be the perfect weekend outing. I’d never seen a hot air balloon up close before, and the fact that they’re willing to do this with me—to humor me at least—is all I can ask for.
Holland had given me a sleepy wave before climbing into the back and promptly passing out. I couldn’t see Beck’s face under the hood of his sweatshirt, but I figured the nod was more than sufficient for a four in the morning wake-up.
“I promise not to talk to you before we get there,” I murmur, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles, figuring it’s a quick and safe affectionate display out of sight of her kids.
But to my surprise, Lana doesn’t release my hand, twining our fingers instead and resting our joined hands on her thigh.
“Smile quieter,” she says, her eyes closed but her lips tipped up in the corners as she leans her head back against the headrest.
Chuckling softly, I back out of the driveway and follow the GPS through the winding country roads.
I’ve seen a lot of sunrises in my life, but something about the prospect of this one has warmth blooming in my chest. The ride is soothing, with Beck’s light snoring mixing with the tires on the pavement and Tristan Prettyman’s melodic voice, the combination one I’d listen to on repeat.
It sounds like home.
And forever.
And family.
Lana’s thumb rubs gently against mine, both her hands now wrapped around mine in her lap. I love her need to touch me, the physical contact something I always craved but seldom received growing up.
The parking lot is already filling when we pull into the grassy field and find a spot. I back in and Beck snorts as he rubs his eyes with his fist.
“Not a word, Beckham,” Lana chastises, but her lips twitch as she turns to look at him.
“Something I should know?” I tease and she rolls her eyes.
“I can’t back into a parking space to save my life.” She chuckles. “Beck said he could do better so we went to the high school a few weekends ago, and sure enough, it took him fewer tries to park than it did me.”
I laugh as Beck radiates with pride.
“That’s really cool.”
“It wasn’t all bad,” Lana admits with a shrug. “Beck got bragging rights but then he took Holland and me out for ice cream.”
His smile grows wider, and I can’t help but do the same.
“I got chocolate with rainbow sprinkles,” Holland says as she stretches in her booster seat.
“That sounds pretty awesome,” I say, and I mean it because it’s a day they’ll all remember—like a core memory. “I don’t have ice cream, but I did get donuts and breakfast sandwiches, coffee, hot chocolate, juice, and water.”
Lana’s eyebrows slowly creep toward her hairline with each thing I say, a blush now heating my cheeks because apparently this was overkill.
Beck fist pumps in the backseat and Lana chuckles.
“I have a growing boy so he just heard breakfast, breakfast snack, and second breakfast.” She looks to Holland who still looks sleepy. “She might nibble on a donut, but it usually takes her a little while to wake up.”
“I’m ready to go the minute my eyes open,” I say with practiced enthusiasm because given the choice, I would have been just like Beck and Holland in the morning.
But our lives are very different.
Especially back then.
A quick wakeup meant being able to protect yourself, less time to be caught unaware, either by other kids in the house or adults. The quick-talking and cheery demeanor came later. I wasn’t big like Bodhi growing up, but my mouth, and a learned charisma, got me out of more trouble than I can remember.
“Can we make it like a tailgate?” Beck asks, and I nod as I hold out my fist for him to bump.
“Definitely. Let’s do it.”
LANA
I’d never seen a hot air balloon up close before, let alone a field full, but the experience had been nothing short of magical. Holland had perked up midway through her donut, and after cleaning up our impromptu breakfast, we’d joined everyone else for the sunrise launch of the balloons.
It was fascinating, watching the setup required to even get something like that off the ground. Balloons of all designs—animal and traditional—could be seen floating through the air by the time we’d decided to head back to the car.
Mason’s face had been serene, a soft smile on his lips instead of the bright one he normally wore. It felt more natural, just like holding his hand as we walked around. Beck had made an ew gross comment but had laughed when Mason bumped him with his shoulder.
Mason had carried Holland on his shoulders when her sugar crash hit, and it was the nicest morning I’d had in a long time. Besides getting up, I’d done none of the planning.
No prep work—just showed up and enjoyed the day with my family. I wasn’t the stressed version of myself, worrying about making sure I packed the right snacks for their lunches, or remembering as I was about to climb into bed they needed their sports jersey washed, or sifting through dinner ideas and the contents of the fridge to see if we’re eating anything but takeout.
It was an unintentional gift, but my eyes fill with tears all the same. Blinking hard, I wipe one away as Mason’s head snaps to looks at me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly as his eyes lift to the rearview mirror, and it does nothing to stop the emotion pouring out of me. Because he’s kind and considerate and gave us this amazing day, and even though he’s worried about me, he doesn’t want to wake the kids who are passed out in the back seat.
“It was just a really great day,” I say with a soft laugh, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks between me and the road, his thumb working overtime as it swipes faster across mine. “Mase,” I say, placing my other hand over our joined ones, “you gave me a great day where I was able to enjoy myself and my kids and you. It was perfect and I’m just embarrassed how easy it is to forget to stop and make time for days like today.”
“I had a great time too,” he says, his smile tentative. I squeeze his hand because it makes me happy to see him happy.
Beck talked Mason’s ear off about sports and school and God knows what that had them giggling as we walked around the field. There was no arguing between the kids, Beck even letting Holland hold his hand when she got excited and wanted to see the unicorn balloon take off.
We had fun.
When was the last time I was fun?
At Brew, Q ’n Boogie for starters…
Turning my face, I stare at the profile of the man who’d given me so much more than just a great day today. It is a gentle reminder that sunrise balloon festivals and tailgating breakfasts might be the perfect weekend adventure.
“You’re staring, Dream Girl,” he says playfully, his chiseled jaw and high cheekbones making him look like he could be a model rather than just a landscaper in nowhere Tennessee.
But Mason Amato isn’t just anything.
He’s an incredibly hard worker, selfless and thoughtful, a passionate lover, great friend, loving brother, and I think I’m falling for him.
I shake the thought from my head because even if it’s true, it’s too soon and I just want to enjoy every second of this time before we try and complicate things.
Because nothing is easy, not for long.