Chapter 6 #2
And then Dante disappears inside without another word.
I decide to avoid dealing with the other guys and head back toward Mason’s house.
The house smells like cleaning chemicals when I step inside.
Not in the pleasant way where someone just cleaned their house, but in a way that seems like someone used entire bottles to clean each room.
I toe off my shoes on the mat by the front door. “Fuck.”
I go through each room until I find Mason cleaning the upstairs guest bathroom, on his hands and knees, wearing yellow gloves and an industrial mask over his face.
We stare at each other for a few fraught moments before Mason bends forward to rest his forehead against the ground, effectively making him let go of the soaked sponge.
“Mason…”
“I’m sorry,” Mason cries, shoulders shaking.
Fuck. I want to touch him, hold him. I don’t know how else to show that I care or that I’m here without physical touch. But I’ve got to learn. It’s a long game here.
“Is it okay if I sit?” I ask quietly.
Mason sniffles and lifts his head slightly to watch me lower to the ground. Sitting crisscross-applesauce, I rest my hands on my knees to hopefully portray that I come in peace. I tilt my head as I look at him.
“Can you sit up too so I can look at you?”
Mason sniffles again, sounding so pitiful my heart breaks for him. He sits up, but all I can see are the sweaty strands of his hair and the piercing blue of his eyes due to the mask.
“What happened?”
Mason visibly grimaces even beneath the mask. “I just couldn’t box it up in my head like you said. I kept thinking and thinking and thinking, and the only way to silence it was to clean.”
“Did you take some medicine?”
Mason shakes his head. “I didn’t want to. I wasn’t triggered, I just… I’m scared. I don’t know how all of you stay so calm. I mean, I killed a man! My uncle! And then someone fucking moved his body and made it look like he was mugged. What the fuck?”
I nod, which he accepts as understanding. “You’re right, it’s all really fucked up. But I promised you that you won’t go to prison and I stand by that. Even if something comes out, I won’t let you go, okay?”
“But how?” Mason cries, close to hysterical.
“Just trust me. You trusted me the other night, to get you home, to keep you safe. Trust me when I tell you that everything’s going to be okay.”
Mason takes some gasping breaths, his fingers working against the ground like he’s trying to hold on to the side of a glacier. “God, I can’t breathe in here anymore.”
I stand quickly and gesture for him to copy me. “Let’s go outside.”
We make our way out to the back porch. I take a grateful gulp of the fresh air. We’re going to have to open every window for the afternoon to get the chemical smell out of the house. But we’ll make do, I guess.
Mason tiredly slumps down into one of the wrought iron chairs.
I sit beside him, grimacing at the feel of the cold metal seeping through my thin shirt.
Mason whips the mask off, and I finally catch a good look at his face.
His cheeks are red from the exertion of cleaning and his lips look chapped.
He swipes his tongue across his lips, and sudden vertigo hits me when I overheat, my pulse pounding hard in my chest like I’m being chased by a dinosaur. Fuck. Holy shit.
I’m attracted to Mason.
And I decide to have this epiphany when he’s having a grade A–level anxiety attack.
I am an astonishingly awful person.
“Maybe… Maybe you need to kill another person?” I ask hesitantly.
Mason turns his horror-struck gaze toward me. “I’m sorry. I think I misheard you.”
“Hear me out…”
Mason shakes his head so furiously it looks painful. “Parker. No, oh my god. I’m going to go into cardiac arrest.”
“Can I touch you?”
My question stills Mason. His chest calms its rapid movements and his eyes catch on mine. “No. No, but… I wish you could.”
I guess that’s good enough. I lean closer to him, wishing he could allow me to touch him, to calm him with a firm hand on his thigh or brush away the sweaty auburn strands of hair that stick to his forehead.
“Listen. Maybe killing someone else will help because then it won’t be just your uncle. I don’t know, I can run it by the guys.”
Mason takes a deep breath and tiredly tilts his head back to stare listlessly up at the sky.
I try not to get caught up in the sight of his throat bobbing, but it’s impossible.
Now that the train has left the station, I can’t keep the thoughts from running rampant.
What would he taste like? What would he sound like if I kissed the hollow of his throat?
What does he smell like in the mornings after a night of deep sleep?
And could I hold him all night to keep his terrifying thoughts at bay? I’m so beyond screwed.
Mason ends up laughing, still slightly hysterical, but free from the grips of panic. “I can’t exactly run it by my therapist either. Hey, Nora, I killed my uncle and now I’m wondering if killing another person will make me stop thinking about going to prison?”
I grin at Mason, unable to hold my own laughter back. “It’s just a thought.”
Mason sighs deeply, then aims his tortured deep blue gaze at me. “Has Reid killed someone yet?”
I shake my head. “No, Dante won’t let him.”
“Won’t let him?” Mason echoes, frowning.
“It’s a line Dante has. He wants to keep Reid innocent.”
That startles another laugh out of Mason, and suddenly we’re both laughing like school kids.
It’s so nice just to laugh with him. When I’m with him I don’t feel like I have to be cool or be the perfect shot like I am with the boys, I can just be…
me. Just Parker. Once the laughter fades, Mason takes a deep, strained breath.
The chilly air washes over us and Mason looks back at the house with an exhausted air about him.
“I’ll go open up the windows to air the place out. You stay here,” I order him, feeling the need to take care of this one thing for him.
Mason doesn’t reply, nor does he move when I curl my hand around the back of his chair in the imitation of a touch. Flexing my fingers as I walk toward the house, I look back in hopes that he’s watching me. But Mason is just looking forward, head held high.
I tug out my phone as I walk around the house and open the windows to air out the chemicals Mason almost killed us with.
I want to bring Mason on the next group mission. I want him to participate.
Hayden
Closed invites only.
I’m fucking serious.
Hayden
I decide who comes on missions and the team is closed.
Don’t make me pull rank, boss.
Hayden goes silent, which I know means he’s seething.
I can picture his nostrils flaring and his fingers clenching his phone tight enough to smash it.
I pause at Mason’s bedroom door. Is going into his bedroom an invasion of his privacy?
Oh well. I decide to risk it and push into his room.
It’s different than I expected. Bright light-blue walls, cream curtains, and a fluffy pale yellow bedspread.
His bedroom feels like being in the sky.
But it still smells like lemon chemical cleaner, so I open the window that overlooks the backyard.
Hayden
Tomorrow night. But you’re liable for his safety. Again.
Thanks
Hayden
Whatever
You’re the best!
Hayden
Go to hell
If he fucks up the mission, you’ll answer to Robin
Mason is still sitting outside when I come back downstairs.
His head is tipped back against the chair, tilted toward the sky, eyes firmly shut.
What is he thinking? Sometimes Mason is so easy to understand, yet often he’s still a firmly shut book.
How long will it take me to learn his tells like he’s so easily starting to learn mine?
“You’re going to come with us two days from now,” I say.
Mason blinks slowly up at me like Scully does when she’s awoken from a very pleasant nap.
“Coming with you where?” Mason asks, curiosity coloring his voice.
I shrug because I don’t know where yet. “On the mission.”
“Parker…”
I hold a hand out to ask for him to listen. “Just trust me, Mason. Okay?”
Mason finally just nods and leans his head back again with a sigh. “I trust you.”
Those three little words shouldn’t mean as much to me as they do.