3. Chapter 3
Sebastian
On the way home, Cameron only wanted to talk about Dale. He wanted a plan for how we’d take Dale out , a schedule for keeping Mason safe, blah blah blah .
All I could think the whole time was how this was his fault.
If Cameron hadn’t been stupid enough to fall for a cult leader’s manipulation, none of this would have ever happened.
Cameron would have remained Calvin, and he would have stayed in Canada, where he belonged, far away from my Mason.
But he didn’t. And now she was obsessed with not only him but Lucian and Sophia as well.
Without them, she would have caved to my demand for her to get a GED.
But no, she had to get pissed off at me for wanting what’s best for her.
I needed to get her away from everyone in this house without admitting that I might have been jealous of all of them. That’s why I took it upon myself to track down and contact the Reverend, formerly known as Dale Cooper.
It wasn’t hard to get his address or phone number.
Honestly, it took less than a day. What took time was deciding what to send him.
My goal was to make sure Mason was as safe as possible, but I was also certain that I could protect her if push came to shove.
That’s why I sent Dale a photo of Cameron resting his hand on Mason’s stomach.
I didn’t sign it or include anything else, but it seemed the hastily snapped Polaroid did its job.
I just had to hope what I did remained undiscovered.
If it got out that I was actively using Mason as bait, it could not only cost me my job, but it could incinerate what remained of my relationship with Mason.
No one else could understand just how safe Mason was in my care.
If anyone dared to harm a hair on her perfect head, I’d slit their throat without hesitation.
The full moon hung bright in the dark sky, mostly hidden behind the farmhouse’s high gabled roof. My tires crunched on the gravel as I pulled in beside Cameron’s eye-sore of a truck. The traffic-cone orange Toyota was massive and impossible to miss, just like its owner.
“Sebastian, I’m serious. We need a plan.” Cameron warned.
I cast him a sideways glance. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to look him in the eyes and remain civil.
“ We don’t need anything. I have a plan, and you’re not a part of it.” I had no interest in teamwork, especially with someone like Cameron.
He had everyone in the house wrapped around his finger, and they didn’t even know his real name. That was unforgivable.
“Now, hand me the bag so I can go inside and be Mason’s hero.” I ordered, extending my hand.
He let me pick what we got for Mason, and I knew I chose right.
Mason wasn’t craving the flavors of Mexican food.
She liked the textures. Something about the crunchy chips and how they paired with the rice and sauce.
That’s why I went to a poke place that had rice chips.
I didn’t grab anything for dessert, but I knew Lucian kept a pint of chocolate ice cream in the freezer.
The paper bag rustled in Cameron’s hands as he held it close.
“You ain’t a hero. Heroes are people who risk their safety to save others… you ain’t even willing to come up with a plan to keep Mason safe.” Cameron spoke with a sort of conviction that would have been admirable from anyone else.
“Those are big words for someone with a fake name, Calvin.” I snatched the bag from his hands, and the corner tore.
The flicker of pure animosity in Cameron’s eyes was almost intoxicating.
“Don’t call me that.” He growled.
“Why not? It’s the name you were born with.” I scoffed.
Part of me wanted to see how angry I could get Cameron. I’d love to see him snap.
“Calvin Waters is dead.” The small shake in his words betrayed the anger in his voice.
“If that were true, he wouldn’t be talking to me now.”
I had absolutely nothing else to gain from this conversation, so I stepped out into the night. The October air was brisk, and for a moment, I almost regretted not wearing a jacket.
Heavy steps followed behind me as Cameron grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. Heat rushed to my face, and I assumed it was from how angry his touch made me.
It was weird that I had to actually look up at Cameron to make eye contact.
“I don’t give a fuck if you like me.” He grumbled. “Right now, Mason comes first—”
“Exactly, Mason comes first.” I shrugged his hand off my shoulder, but his disgusting warmth lingered. “She’s hungry, and if her stomach is empty too long, she gets sick.”
“If Dale gets ahold of her, throwing up will be the least of her worries.”
“And Dale won’t get near her.”
Mason was safe as long as I was around. I turned away from Cameron once more before heading up the steps and into the house.
When I reached the foyer, the house was oddly still. For the past few weeks, Mason had been almost cemented near the reading nook with a book in hand. She wanted to work through Sophia’s collection of never-touched romance novels before the baby got here. But she was nowhere to be seen.
My heart skipped a beat as I surveyed the area one last time before calling for her. The only response I got was silence, followed by the front door opening behind me.
“Where’s Mason?” Cameron asked as he slipped his boots off.
“If I knew that, do you think I’d be standing here with my dick in my hands?” I snapped.
Cameron’s gaze drifted down, and he seemed relieved that my words were a metaphor and not reality.
“Did ya call for her?” He challenged.
I shot him a glare over my shoulder, and he placed his palms above his chest.
“Just askin’.” He assured me.
“Oh, quit it with your fake fucking accent.” I grumbled, unable to find anything else to hone in on. “You’re Canadian, not Southern.”
He scratched at his beard and looked at me like I was dumb. “I’d love to get into the semantics of why I talk the way I do, but not knowin’ where Mason is has me on edge.”
Cameron pushed past me, causing me to stumble slightly. I placed Mason’s dinner on the stand near the door before chasing after him.
“Mason!” Cameron’s voice boomed through the house like thunder.
I took a little comfort in the fact she didn’t respond to him either. That was until we discovered she wasn’t in the home's bottom at all. My heart beat a little faster as I turned on my heels and darted up the steps.
“Mason?” I called.
My stomach flipped at the silence.
“Sweetpea! You up here?” Nerves crept into Cameron’s voice.
I expected Cameron’s call to yield the same response as mine.
But from somewhere in the house, Mason weakly responded.
“Yeah…”
I closed my eyes, trying to envision exactly where the sound was coming from.
“Where you at?” Cameron came again.
“B-bathroom!” Her voice was frayed just enough to hint she was in pain.
The idea of that made me sick to my stomach, and worry infested every corner of my mind. Even if Mason and I didn’t currently see eye to eye, I loved her and our daughter more than life itself.
Instantly, my mind was full of the worst possibilities.
I envisioned a bathtub full of blood and tissue while Mason sat pale and covered in sweat.
Her tears would patter on the floor as she kept herself barely alive with shallow breaths, silently wishing for this torment to end, completely alone and afraid.
My catastrophizing left me anchored to the floor until Cameron started down the hallway.
His strides were long and purposeful. When he was halfway between the top of the steps and Sophia’s room, I was able to shake off the shackles of fear and chase after him.
Together, we traveled through the pink oasis of Sophia’s room and into the master bathroom.
The lights weren’t on, but the flicker of candles pierced the darkness with astonishing efficiency, allowing us to see Mason in the garden-style tub in the center of the bathroom.
The air was thick with steam and the smell of floral vanilla.
She pressed her head to the white porcelain of the tub as a squeaky whimper filled the air.
The glow of ten small fires cast an orange hue on the water clinging to her back.
Mason kept her head down for approximately a minute before she looked up.
The lighting caught in the tears she was begging to shed.
A small red indent remained on her forehead as her gaze bounced between us.
“Go away,” she cried, making eye contact with me and me alone.
Her banishment caused me to jerk back slightly as I pointed at my chest. Surely, she had to be talking to Cameron.
But, before she could clarify, he was already on his way to her and kneeling by the tub.
Why was he so mentally prepared for this situation?
Did he cause it? I tried not to let the anger of that thought cloud my judgment as he reached over and put his gargantuan hand on the small of her back.
“Sweetpea, what hurts?” Cameron’s voice was deathly serious.
Mason wrapped her arms around him, causing the water from her bath to drench the white of Cameron’s shirt.
Her breath was shaky as she collected herself.
My mind was a warzone of conflicting emotions. I was worried for my Princess and our child, but my rage for Cameron burned white-hot. He shouldn’t be the one comforting her. Everything wrong with Mason’s life was his fault.
“My stomach and back.” She sobbed. Cameron used his thumb to rub Mason’s lower back as he shushed her. She seemed to sink into his embrace, which only made this worse. “How long has this been happening?” Cameron asked .