Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
After a long shower and a million attempts to tell herself she could face him and not break, Emma shimmied into her favorite low-cut, skin-tight pre-game top and a pair of black jeans.
She ran the straightening brush through her hair.
The attempt was partly to show Mason what he’d missed out on but, secondly, to give her the confidence to face him and banish the thoughts that she’d not been enough.
She stopped in the hall bathroom to check herself one more time in a different light.
Mason’s toiletries were lined neatly on one side of the counter: toothbrush, shaving cream, a razor, and cologne, Polo.
The scent on him had always made her weak in the ankles, knees, elbows—every part of her that had craved him.
Even now, she caught a whiff of it, and she found herself leaning into the faint traces in the air.
Reaching for the bottle, she almost lifted it before thinking better.
She flipped the light switch off, walked down the hall, and was greeted by another enticing aroma.
Her stomach stood up and yelled, “Finally,” sending signals to her mouth, which watered with anticipation.
She’d had two boiled eggs and a piece of cheese before leaving Ohio this morning and chosen not to stop for lunch.
Mason was pulling the chicken from the oven when she stepped into the kitchen. While his back was to her, she took a moment to study the table. He’d set the surface with napkins, silverware, and glasses of water.
After placing the food on the counter, he smiled at her.
The smile that he’d worn when he’d teased her about her first boyfriend, the smile he’d given her when they’d hijacked a golf cart at his parents’ country club and torn through the course at “grip onto the seat for your life” speed, the smile she’d craved every day after falling in love with him in seventh grade when he’d barely known she existed. Her heart still stopped at that smile.
“Just in time. Can you grab a trivet?” he asked, falling right back into a world where he belonged here with her family.
Back into a time when she was simply his best friend’s little sister.
She wanted to scream, “No, I will not do anything for you,” but she fell right back into doing whatever he asked.
“Sure.”
“Thank you.” He stood aside. “I hope you’re hungry. I made enough to feed the whole D-line.”
“Do you still play?” she asked.
“I’m in a flag league. It gives me something to do on the weekends.”
She almost asked, “What does Kaylee think of that,” but Emma decided to keep things light since they were trapped together for a while.
“Sounds nice.”
“Grab a plate.” He left the food on the counter so they could serve themselves buffet-style.
As she sat down with a plate full of chicken, roasted squash, peppers, onions, and a dinner roll, a sense of anticipation for the meal filled her.
“What are you doing back in Charlottesville?” he asked as he slid into the chair nearest her.
“I’m looking for a new job.”
“I thought you liked the one you had.” Concern darkened his eyes.
How did he know? Perhaps her brother had told him. She’d assumed Mason had done what she had. Anytime she’d seen her brother the last few years, she’d stuck to her “don’t ask what you don’t want to know the answer to” policy.
She had no idea where Mason had ended up.
“I did, but the family that owned the business decided to sell. A larger group came in and bought them out. The new owners already had a big accounting firm that manages their books. I was no longer needed.” Funny, she thought, that seemed to be the story of her life.
She gave her all, and then she was no longer needed.
“That’s awful.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you have any leads?” he asked, then filled his mouth with a forkful of chicken.
“I do.” But she didn’t want to talk about her. She’d refrained from asking about him for so long that now her curiosity boiled over.
“Where are you working?”
“At the local college.”
“You got the job!” she almost squealed. It was what he’d always wanted. Despite what had happened between them, he deserved to be happy, and history had always been his passion. “What are you teaching?”
“Oh, just your favorites. The rise and fall of empires, plagues, civic engagement, and a little bit about cultural revolutions.”
She laughed, surprised at how easily it came to her.
Numbers had always made sense to Emma. History was too brutal and subjective: civilizations learning from their pasts, forgetting what they’d learned, tearing down structures to build them back up again, and going to war.
History had been her least favorite subject, but she’d always found joy in watching Mason’s passion for humanity’s past.
The conversation flowed.
Soon, they were done and clearing the table, moving to the sink to wash the dishes side by side, going through the motions of being who they were before.
All the hurt faded to the back, and a bit of relief settled into the casual routine as if they would make it through this forced time together without angry sparks flying.
He washed a plate and handed it to her to dry. Their arms brushed, and they both froze. The touch was innocent, but it ignited the awareness that no matter how she attempted to squash it, he still hung the stars in her version of a perfect universe.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, so low that it was almost a whisper.
She inhaled sharply.
“Why didn’t you answer my texts and calls?” he asked, breaking their truce.
Blood rushed to her head, the heat of it reminiscent of the time her brother had snuck a ghost pepper into her BLAT sandwich. Then, Mason had been the one to grab her a glass of milk and soothe the pain. This time, he was the cause of it.
“Don’t go there, Mason. You know what you did was wrong.”
His face went slack, and the rosiness drained from his cheeks.
“What did you expect me to do, Em? I was a horrible friend.”
Friend, friend, friend, friend. The words repeated over and over and over in her head, a drum that tattooed out “fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.”
Her lip quivered, but instead of breaking down, she held her chin up and unleashed her pent-up hurt. “Yes, you are the worst sort of friend.” She let the last word drag and hang in the air.
Mason turned off the tap, set the wet pan on the counter, grabbed his keys, and fled from the house. He’d destroyed her heart for anyone else, but somehow, the hurt she’d heaped on him magnified back on her. The shattered bewilderment in his eyes tore her in two.