Chapter 2
Megan
I don’t know why I do this to myself. I lug all my papers over to Mason’s after work, telling myself I’ll catch up on grading spelling tests and math worksheets, maybe even make a dent in some wedding planning. But the second I sit down, all I want to do is be with him.
He’s standing at the stove making dinner like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.
So unbothered. So laid-back. Like this is just normal life. And soon it will be. Come July, I won’t have to pack up and drive forty-five minutes home at ten o’clock at night. I’ll already be here. With him. That’s all I want.
We probably could’ve picked an earlier date, but with Karissa—my soon-to-be sister-in-law—due with her baby in June, it didn’t feel right to pile one more big thing on top of that. So we waited. And now, waiting feels like torture.
“You want cheese, Meg?”
My head lifts. “On what?”
He turns, spatula in hand, one eyebrow raised. “Burgers, baby. I said that—didn’t I?”
I sigh, leaning back in the chair and pressing my fingertips into my temples like that’ll calm the swirl in my head. It doesn’t.
Mason’s voice softens. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just…stressed.” I force a breath. “It’s fine. Tomorrow’s Saturday. I’m fine.”
But even as I say it, I don’t believe it.
Mason crosses the kitchen and comes over to me, his palm rubbing slow, rough circles across my upper back. “You’ll get it done,” he says, steady and sure, like it’s that simple.
“I know, but I’m just distracted.” I tilt my head toward him, fighting a smile. “You’re distracting me. Can you take the uniform off?”
He chuckles, low and deep. “Ohhh,” he teases. “I’m distracting you?”
His head dips, his breath warm against my ear as he nuzzles close. A shiver runs down my neck, and I bite back a grin.
“Mm-hmm,” I hum. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”
“Don’t play,” he says, pulling back just enough to smirk at me, blue eyes flicking with that familiar challenge. “You like me in uniform.”
I roll my eyes, but the smile gives me away. “Not when I’m trying to get work done.”
“Then quit working,” he says, leaning down until his lips brush mine.
The kiss starts soft, teasing, but deepens when I hook my hand into the collar of his shirt and tug him closer. Mason pulls me up from the chair and flush against him, his hand sliding to my waist, thumb pressing into my side like he has no intention of letting go.
By the time we part, my stack of papers is the furthest thing from my mind.
“Why don’t we do something fun tomorrow night?” he asks, still holding me close.
“Like what?”
“I’ll take you fishing.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Or…I could just make you dinner and we watch a movie.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, that’s a winter activity. Fishing’ll be fun. You’ve been before. We went a few times last summer.”
“I know, but…” I laugh, tilting my head at him. “It just wasn’t that exciting.”
His jaw drops like I’ve offended him, but the smile breaking across his face gives him away before he tickles my side, making me squirm.
“Not that exciting?” he teases. “C’mon, babe. I’ll make it exciting.”
I giggle, catching his wrist. “Okay, but can I still make dinner for you sometime? Like a real one. I haven’t done that yet.”
I’ve thrown together frozen pizza or microwave noodles with a chicken patty once or twice, but nothing homemade. Not since we got engaged back in December. Between his night shifts and those crazy twelve-to-twelve stretches, we never had the chance. Now that he’s finally on days, I want to try.
Mason grew up on meat and potatoes, meals from scratch. He doesn’t live on freezer food and prepackaged stuff like I do. If we’re going to share a home in a few months, I should probably learn how to make his pan-fried deer steaks and roasted carrots.
“I would love that,” he says, kissing me quickly. “What are you gonna make?”
I hum, pretending to think. “Maybe chicken? Rice?”
“And peas,” he adds quickly, eyes lighting like that makes it the perfect meal.
“Chicken, rice, and peas. Should be easy.”
“Perfect,” he says, kissing my cheek with a grin.
* * *
I’ll never forget the day I met Mason. It felt like one of those storybook moments, the kind you see in movies and tell yourself, No way, life doesn’t actually work like that.
It was October, two years ago. My second graders had been buzzing all morning, too wound up for the police department’s visit. The cops would talk to the kids about safety and then show off their police cruisers.
The second he stepped through my classroom door, I knew I was in trouble. My skin went hot instantly, my eyes catching on him, and the whole room felt smaller.
Six feet tall, broad shoulders filling out his uniform, dirty-blonde hair cut clean, his jaw sharp enough to make my pulse skip. Muscular, steady. And those veins running down his forearms when he shook my hand? Forget it. He was heaven-sent.
His smile was soft but bright, and I wish I could remember what we actually said to each other. It was all business, about the kids and the presentation, but my brain was in a fog.
And then, an hour later, he was gone. One last smile, a quick nod goodbye, and I told myself that unless I got pulled over, I’d probably never see him again.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about him. About the way he’d made me feel.
Was I just flustered? I tried to tell myself that, but I’d been around plenty of attractive men before.
None of them had left me this nervous, this tongue-tied.
Here’s where it gets interesting.
At lunch that day, I talked to my coworker Sierra about it.
She teaches first grade, and we’re really close.
She nearly choked on her sandwich before blurting out that she actually lives near Mason.
Not right next door—you can’t even see his house from hers, since she’s on a farm—but basically next door. My jaw practically hit the table.
She went on to tell me that, as far as she knew, he wasn’t seeing anyone.
No kids. Only a few years older than me.
Came from a good family. It sounded too perfect, too Hallmark-movie perfect.
I kept waiting for the catch. But there wasn’t one.
Or maybe Sierra just didn’t know him well enough to warn me.
Still, I made her promise not to say anything to him or anyone.
But just wait, it gets even crazier. A week later, I was walking out of school when it happened. Halfway across the parking lot, juggling my laptop in one hand and digging for my keys in the other, I heard a truck door slam and the sound of cowboy boots hitting pavement.
I looked up to see a white pickup parked across the lot, and Mason stepping toward me in jeans and a dark green shirt that fit a little too well. His smile stretched wide, and I swear my heart jumped clear out of my chest. My stomach nearly flipped inside out.
“I was trying to figure out how to do this without creeping you out,” he said with a laugh. His cheeks and the back of his neck were flushed red, but he was trying his best to look relaxed.
“Oh?” I asked, my laugh nervous as he stopped just a few feet in front of me.
He shoved one hand into his pocket, exhaled, and said, “You wanna go out sometime? Dinner or a movie? Coffee? Nothing crazy.”
He shrugged, all casual, but I could see the stiffness in his shoulders.
My smile pulled wide before I could stop it. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning too hard. “Love to.”
“Sweet.” Relief spread across his face, and then he was digging in his pocket again. His movements were stiff—almost boxy—when he pulled out his phone. He tapped quickly and handed it over.
The contact screen was blank except for one thing—the contact name he’d already typed was Really cute teacher.
The heat in my face was so unbearable that I laughed out loud, harder than I meant to.
I typed my name after what he’d already written so he’d at least remember what to actually call me. Then I added my number and handed it back.
He glanced down at the screen, then back up at me. “Megan.” He said it like he was trying it out, slow and certain. His hand pressed against his chest. “I’m Mason.”
I nodded, my laugh tumbling out a little breathless. “I just remembered Jennings.”
“Well, that’s something,” he teased, his smile easy.
After that, everything blurs. I couldn’t tell you what else we talked about. All I remember is him saying he’d text me, and that we’d figure out a day or evening to meet up. Then he turned back toward his truck, and I went the other way to my car.
He pulled out of the parking lot first, and I stayed behind, pretending to reorganize my bag in the passenger seat.
I don’t even know why. Maybe because I didn’t want him to watch me drive away.
Maybe because I needed one more second to breathe, to collect myself after my entire world shifted in the space of five minutes and I was still sweating through my clothes about it.
And that was the start of us.
A week later, I found myself in the kitchen with Mom, blurting out words I never thought I’d say.
“So, I have a date Wednesday night.”
She looked up from the sink, water still running, her eyebrows raised.
“Oh?”
I shrugged, pretending it wasn’t a big deal, but inside I was buzzing.
Truth was, I’d never really dated. Well, okay, once…
in high school. We went out for pizza. But my parents wouldn’t let him drive me, which basically killed the whole mood.
We sat in a booth in front of this massive window, and right as the waitress brought our check, my parents pulled in.
Both of them. Parked directly in front of us, headlights shining like spotlights.
Whether they meant to do it or not, I think he felt ambushed.
He never asked me out again, and at the time, I was confused. Now, at twenty-five, I get it.
“How’d you meet him? What’s his name?” Mom asked, drying her hands on a dish towel before turning fully toward me, arms loosely crossed. Suddenly, I felt seventeen again.
“Mason. He’s a first responder. He came to my class last week.”
“First responder, like EMT?” Her eyes lit hopefully.
“Cop.” I held my breath.
Her shoulders slumped. “A cop? Megan, I don’t know about that.”
“Why?”
“They’re gone a lot. It’s dangerous. Is he a city cop?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
She sighed, and it wasn’t just disappointment, it was worry. Like she wanted to forbid me but knew she couldn’t. Not anymore.
“You act like I’m gonna marry him,” I muttered.
“Well, isn’t that the idea?”
“Maybe, eventually. But we haven’t even gone out yet. You’re jumping the gun.”
“I guess,” she said, though it didn’t sound like she meant it.
“Right.” I laughed lightly and headed back to my room.
It would be so much easier if I had my own place, but I don’t hate it.
After community college, I got my teaching degree and landed a job teaching second grade a few months later.
I’ve looked at apartments closer to work, but that town is too expensive.
Honestly, staying here just makes sense.
And I’m not completely engulfed in my parents’ lives. It’s a split-level house and I basically have an entire apartment downstairs. Full kitchen, bathroom, two bedrooms, a living room with a fireplace, a walk out to the backyard. It’s perfect for me.
Still, it wasn’t the plan. I thought I’d meet my husband in college, get married, buy a house. Instead, the closest I came to a “date” back then was the custodian holding the door while I ran back for the cardigan I left behind.
Now? Now I was pacing my bedroom with laundry scattered across my bed, staring at Mason’s texts.
Mason: I’m off Wednesday evening, would you wanna go out?
Five minutes later…
Mason: We can get something to eat or we could go grocery shopping. That’s usually what I do on my night off haha
Four minutes later…
Mason: Totally don’t have to do either of those things, I was just out of ideas. We could see a movie, then I won’t have too many chances to say something stupid.
I laughed out loud, flopping back on my bed. He was either nervous or just naturally funny. Maybe both. My thumbs hovered before I finally answered.
Me: I’m dying, lol. We can go grocery shopping! That would actually be fun. I love shopping.
His response came fast.
Mason: Wednesday night. Grocery shopping. I’ll pick you up at six?
Me: Perfect.
I sent my address before I could second-guess it, then tossed my phone beside me. My cheeks hurt from smiling, my heart racing like I’d just run a marathon.
Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough.