Chapter 10 #2
When it was time to feed the kittens, Mason showed me how to make up their formula properly and how to prepare the bottles and nipples. I tried not to blush every time he used the word, but I could feel my face heating up and I was sure he could tell.
Then Mason watched me feed the kittens, making sure I held them properly and that I knew how to rub them gently with wipes to stimulate them to go to the bathroom.
“Did you eat yet?” he asked me when I was holding a kitten in one hand and a poopy wipe in the other. “I’ve got some leftover chili I’m gonna reheat.”
He wasn’t even trying to be gross. He just dealt with so many gross things that I figured he’d lost all perspective.
“I could eat,” I said, even though I already had, because I never said no to a second meal if it was on offer.
I put the kittens back in their carrier and cleaned up while Mason went to the kitchen to get dinner ready.
When I joined him, the chili was heating up on the stovetop, and Mason handed me a can of soda and gestured for me to sit down at the kitchen table.
He rattled around grabbing plates and forks, then served up the chili.
I smiled my thanks. The chili wasn’t as good as Danny’s, but it was still good. We ate in comfortable silence, and once the dishes were done, Mason said, “Wanna watch a movie?”
“Yeah,” I said, and I barely had to push the word out at all.
We went upstairs and sat together on the old leather couch in the living room, and Mason put the movie on.
It was some dumb comedy and I tried to watch but I barely saw any of it, too aware of Mason’s presence at the other end of the couch.
It was only a two-seater, and I was torn between staying curled up on my end so I didn’t accidentally touch him and shuffling over far enough that I did.
I kept sneaking glances his way, watching how the light from the screen lit up the planes of his face and wondering if the stubble on his cheeks would be soft or scratchy against my fingertips if I ran a hand over it. Soft, probably.
A couple of times when I looked his way, I found Mason’s eyelids drooping, and when he let out a soft snore, I leaned over and shook him gently. He startled awake and let out a shaky laugh. “Sorry,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “Don’t take it personally. I haven’t been sleeping.”
“I get it,” I said quietly, before adding, “I have those nights too.”
Mason’s gaze held mine for long enough that it might have been uncomfortable if it had been anyone else, but it was okay.
Not quite comfortable, but okay. And then his mouth quirked, acknowledgment and understanding all at once, and any hint of anxiety that had spiked in me at the extended eye contact faded away.
He stretched as the credits rolled. “We should feed the kittens before bed.”
I reached for my words and found them right there for once. “Okay, but you’re on butt patrol this time, because cat shit is gross.”
“Hey, I was training you,” he said, his eyes dancing. “It’s what any good vet would do. If it was my choice, I’d be up to my elbows in cat shit every day, but it’s for the kittens, Cash. The kittens.”
He was a lying asshole, and I liked it.
We fed the kittens, and then I set the alarm on my phone to wake me for the middle-of-the-night feed.
It felt weird, going to bed in a strange room, where the light that came through the curtains fell differently than it did at home and made unfamiliar patterns on the unfamiliar ceiling.
The pillow was too soft, and the sheets were a little scratchy.
I lay awake and listened to the sounds of the house settling and the occupants doing the same. I heard Mason in the bathroom brushing his teeth, and then the tread of his footsteps going to the main bedroom. The click-click-click of Dog’s claws on the hardwood floor as he followed him.
The wind picked up for a moment, and a branch scraped against the side of the house.
A car drove down the street outside.
The kittens let out tiny meows from their carrier where it rested on a side table.
And, eventually, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
“Cash? Cash?”
I wrenched myself out of sleep, but my dad’s hands were still on me, so I swung wildly.
Mason dodged the punch. “Cash!”
What the—
I was always confused when I got pulled out of a nightmare, always caught in that place where I didn’t know what was real and what was the dream, just caught until awareness slammed me hard and knocked me right back into reality.
Except usually Chase was there, and Chase had seen me at my worst, but this time it was Mason, and I was hit with a sudden flood of embarrassment and guilt and shame.
How loud had I been? Had I said anything humiliating?
He’d dodged one punch, but had I gotten another one in before I was even awake?
I pushed back, jamming my spine against the creaking headboard of the bed.
I wanted to say I was sorry, but also that it was no big deal, that I didn’t need him here.
I wanted to say a lot of things, but the words weren’t happening.
Not with my brain still teetering on the edge of panic from the nightmare.
Because even though I knew it wasn’t real, the fear was, and it lingered long after I could remember what I’d even dreamed about.
I wished he hadn’t turned the light on when he came in. I already felt too exposed.
Dog leapt up onto the bed, a wriggling, worried weight. He licked frantically at my face, and I curled over him so I didn’t have to look at Mason.
The mattress dipped as Mason sat down. “You okay, Cash?”
I nodded and figured we both knew it was a lie.
So much for me staying over so he could get some sleep. All I’d done was give him something else to worry about. I dragged in a shaky breath, my heart still racing, and waited for Mason to suggest that maybe I should leave.
But he didn’t.
Instead he reached out, moving slowly so I could see what he was doing, and laid a hand on top of mine where I was petting Dog.
His touch was firm and grounding, and I found I could breathe a little easier.
I stole a glance at him and forced a shaky smile when Mason’s gaze caught mine.
I’d been expecting to see pity, but instead I found something like understanding, and the tightness in my chest eased further until I was finally able to take a full breath.
It felt like maybe Mason had had his share of nightmares too.
His voice was low when he said, “Do you need anything?”
I sucked in a breath and wondered if it would be weird to ask for a hug. Then I decided that since I’d just woken Mason up with a nightmare, we were well past that, so I lifted my arms and held them out wordlessly.
He swung his legs up onto the bed and sat back against the headboard next to me, and I shuffled over and settled my head against his chest. He folded me up in his arms, and I let myself soak in his presence, warm and solid and comforting.
Mason rubbed one hand up and down my side in a slow, steady rhythm, and the tension I’d been carrying in my gut unspooled as I lay there listening to his heartbeat.
When I could speak, I whispered, “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” Mason said, his chest vibrating in a soothing rumble that reminded me of a giant cat. I knew I should probably let go of him so he could go back to bed, but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to move. And I sure as hell didn’t mind lying there inhaling the scent of his bodywash.
We stayed like that, and as the last remnants of my earlier panic retreated, something new took its place.
The way Mason’s body was pressed against mine had me wondering what it would be like to spend the night with Mason without having a nightmare first, and how those hands would feel against bare skin.
My breath hitched at the thought, and Mason said, “Cash? You okay?”
I lifted my head from his chest and looked up at him, my gaze locked on his. Mason’s lips parted and the air between us thrummed like a live wire, the tension building and building until I couldn’t take it anymore.
I leaned forward, cupped Mason’s face, and kissed him.
It was clumsy and awkward because I’d never kissed anyone before, but Mason’s lips were warm where they met mine, and his stubble was soft against my palms. When I pulled back to catch my breath, my lips were tingling.
We stared at each other, and I waited for Mason to say or do something that showed me he was on board with this.
But then he let out a long breath and said, “Cash, it’s not a good idea.”
Fuck.
I froze as rejection settled in my gut, twisting together with humiliation and embarrassment until my insides were a tangled mess.
I’d fucked up. Of course Mason wasn’t interested in me.
I’d just decided I wanted him, so I’d convinced myself the interest went both ways.
Chase was always warning me that my optimism would bite me in the ass, and it turned out this time he was right.
My face burned, and I whispered, “Sorry. I thought—I thought you liked me.” A hollow laugh escaped me.
Why would Mason ever be interested in me? Shit, I was so messed up I couldn’t even sleep through the night.
Mason reached out and put a hand on my shoulder, his brow creasing. “I do like you. I just don’t think when you’ve just had a nightmare is the right time for this. So maybe we can talk about it in the morning?”
But I knew he was just trying to let me down gently, and I couldn’t find the words to tell him that I’d messed up whatever this was between us and it wasn’t his fault. I couldn’t find any words at all.
So I did what Chase and I had always done when things were fucked up.
I ran.