Chapter 37 #2
Mason followed behind much slower, Rosie balanced on her hip.
While the kids were all impeccably dressed, hair brushed, Rosie even had an obnoxiously large bow, Mason’s hair was still a wet, wild mess, and she wore sweatpants and a shirt stained with milk.
She looked soft, tired, so human in a way that made my throat ache.
She should’ve been sitting already, eating, resting.
But no, she was gathering silverware and asking the kids what they wanted to drink.
And I was so limited on what I could say without making her uncomfortable. Without letting her know I one hundred percent knew her secret.
So, instead, I cleared my throat and forced her into a chair. She landed on the padded seat with a little huff, and I shot her a warning look before turning to the kids.
I cleared my throat before speaking. “Water or Juice, Mi tesoros?”
My treasures. It’s what Lucian called the kids, and while I would always be their uncle Bash, I was tired of being walled off. These were children whom, within the last year, I’d spent more time raising than their father.
Jasper responded instantly, telling me he wanted apple juice, but Juniper was slower. She crossed her arms and wiggled her shoulders like the little brat she was.
But, just as I cleared my throat to try to ask again, the other two adults wandered in.
Lucian looked like hell, as he had for the last few weeks. Grey hoodie, pale skin, tired eyes, but he did look a bit better with his haircut.
Sophia was as put together as ever, but I did my best to ignore her. Every time we were alone, she’d ask who I killed, frame this whole thing like it was a game or hot gossip. Like killing someone wasn’t life-altering trauma.
And, while we’d been on a path that could have ended with her being my girlfriend, the lack of regard both for my feelings and for human life turned me off.
Plus, I wasn’t eager to knowingly put my dick in crazy.
Sophia caught me looking and smirked, like she knew exactly what I was thinking. I rolled my eyes and turned back to Mason, who was trying to get Rosie to wipe her nose with a napkin.
Lucian, of course, hadn’t let up even though Mason wanted nothing to do with him. He’d claimed the chair beside Mason, close enough that his sleeve brushed hers every time he moved.
“Mi Vida,” he murmured, plucking the napkin right out of her hand like she was incompetent and dabbing Rosie’s nose himself. “We’re a team, let me help.”
Mason stiffened, but she didn’t argue. Her lips pressed together in that way she did when she was too worn down to fight.
And that was my cue to sit the fuck down. I took the chair opposite her and pulled it closer; the legs squealed against the wooden floor.
Rosie clapped her hands, excitedly bouncing in her mother's lap as if that’d been a game.
And that’s when I realized I didn’t have a high chair here for her.
“Here, princess, let me hold her,” I said evenly, extending my arms. “You need to eat.”
Mason glanced down at Rosie, then back at me. For a moment, she looked torn, as if she wasn’t sure that giving me the baby was a good idea. But Rosie made the decision for her, squealing again and reaching toward me like she’d just been waiting for the invitation.
I smiled as my daughter pulled herself to me, and Mason mumbled something about her being a traitor before reaching for the bowl of breakfast potatoes in the center of the table.
At first, she loaded her plate up, then she seemed to realize that she usually didn’t eat that much, or maybe she thought she shouldn’t have that much. Either way, she put about half of them back.
Again, I was trapped under the weight of everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.
Lucian, of course, had no such restraint. He lightly rested his hand on her stomach and kissed her cheek before mumbling something into her ear.
When he pulled away, he kissed her cheek again and reached for the bowl to serve her, but Mason didn’t sit and take it.
Instead, her face twisted in anger before going flat. Tears gathered along her lash line as she stood up, threw her napkin on her plate, and stormed off.
And, I should have given her space. But that wasn’t how I worked. So I passed Rosie to her dad before chasing after her.
I was always kind of shocked by how agile Mason was.
Honestly, it shouldn’t have been surprising, seeing as she worked out five days a week and was no stranger to running, but still.
Someone under five feet tall had no reason to be faster than me.
As she darted up the steps, I was so far behind her I could only guess where she’d vanished to.
Luckily, I knew Mason well.
She was in a strange place and, more often than not, was on the verge of a meltdown. She’d want somewhere soft, warm, and quiet to calm down. And, like a scared animal, she always clung to familiar scents and people.
And, according to her, I was her safe place.
So I didn’t bother searching the guest rooms or even the library I’d had built years ago with her in mind. I went straight to my room. Inside, the air smelled faintly like my cologne, and there was a small lump in the center of the bed, one swallowed by my rumpled comforter.
Quietly, I shut the door behind me and leaned against it for a second, watching her. The covers only covered about half of her head, leaving her hair to stick out. I had no idea what exactly caused Mason to run, but it saddened me that she felt like she had to.
“Princess, I don’t like that you ran from me,” I said calmly, trying to make this sound as nonthreatening as possible.
The comforter shifted. A muffled sniff told me she was still fighting tears.
“I wasn’t running from you,” she argued. “I just… I don’t need to be babied, that’s all.”
I exhaled slowly, fighting the urge to laugh. Mason needed to be babied more than anyone else on this planet. She’d been abused, physically and mentally, and tackled everything life threw at her with a smile. But telling her that would only make everything worse.
So, I bit my tongue before walking toward the bed and sinking beside her. The mattress dipped under my weight, and I leaned back, resting an arm under my head.
“I think I hate Lucian,” she confessed.
My brows arched.
Drugs were more unforgivable than murder in her eyes. Got it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, fully prepared to tell her that he was her husband, so divorce was the only option.
Well, that or therapy. Either way, Lucian was going to fight like hell.
“No,” Mason replied sadly.
“Can I talk, then?”
The blanket shifted. A faint hum, almost like yes.
I rolled onto my side, facing her lump of a body. “My birthday’s in four days.”
Nothing from her except a faint rustle. I took that as she was listening.
“I’ll be twenty-four, which is older than I ever thought I’d get.” For years, I assumed either Alex would kill me, or I’d get the balls to do it myself.
But I hadn’t. And, I’d honestly consider my life right now good. It was the type of life I never wanted but somehow desperately needed.
Mason’s hand shot out from under the blanket, and I took it in mine before kissing her fingers.
“And… I’ve been thinking about what I want.” My heart felt uncomfortably light.
Mason couldn’t tell me no with what I was about to ask for. It wasn’t possible. Well, mostly it wasn’t.
“I want to stay in Portland, no more Hartwood.” No more cults. No more backwoods mentalities.
I wanted to stay in Portland, in my house, with the city half an hour away.
I stared at her hand in mine, at the way her fingers twitched but didn’t pull back. Eventually, they curled tighter around mine, and I took that as a sign that she wanted it to. So, that’s when I decided to press my luck.
“And, I want a baby.”