Chapter 2 #2
"No." The word comes out fierce. Almost angry. "You don't get it. You don't get anything."
She stands abruptly. Sways slightly. I realize she's more rattled than I thought.
"Maya—"
"I should go." She fumbles for her purse. Movements jerky and uncoordinated. "This was a mistake. I should never have come here."
Here meaning the bar, or here meaning Willowbridge? Either way, the thought of her walking out into that storm, into whatever danger she's running from, fills me with panic.
"Maya, wait." I move around the bar. Putting myself between her and the door. "I'm sorry. That was... I was out of line."
She looks up at me. I see it again, that flash of vulnerability beneath all the defensive anger. She's scared. Really, truly scared. And I'm standing here acting like a bitter asshole instead of helping her.
"Look," I say, gentling my voice. "Whatever happened between us, that's old history. Right now, you need a place to stay, and I've got one. No strings, no expectations. Just... let me help you. Please."
For a moment, I think she's going to refuse. Her chin comes up in that stubborn way I remember. She looks like she's about to tell me exactly where I can shove my offer.
But then thunder crashes again. So loud the whole building shakes. The lights flicker ominously. Her resolve crumbles. She sags against the bar like all the fight has gone out of her.
"Okay," she says quietly. "Okay. But just for tonight."
Relief floods through me. Followed immediately by a spike of something that feels dangerously like hope.
"Just for tonight," I agree.
I grab her bag and my keys from behind the bar, telling Steph to close up for the night. I Try and fail to ignore the way my pulse speeds up at the thought of Maya in my space. "Come on. Let's get you out of those wet clothes."
Maya's cheeks flush pink. I clear my throat as I realize how that sounded.
"I mean, dry clothes." Smooth, Mason. Real smooth.
"Right." Her voice is a little breathless. She won't quite meet my eyes. "Dry clothes would be good."
I lead her through the back hallway to the narrow staircase that leads to my loft. She follows close behind me. Close enough that I can smell her shampoo—something citrusy and clean that makes me want to bury my face in her hair.
Focus. She's scared and soaked, not looking for you to jump her bones.
"So," I say, trying to fill the awkward silence as we climb. "Kitchen's fair game. Help yourself to whatever. Bathroom's through the bedroom. The couch is actually pretty comfortable, but if you need anything else, just let me know."
"Lucas." Her voice stops me at the top of the stairs. "Why are you doing this?"
I turn to look at her. The question in her eyes nearly undoes me. She really doesn't know. After all these years, she has no idea what she meant to me.
"Because it's the right thing to do," I say finally. Not the whole truth, but it's all I can give her right now.
She studies my face for a long moment. Whatever she sees makes her expression soften.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "I know I don't deserve—"
"Don't. We're good."
I unlock the door and flick on the lights. Immediately seeing my space through her eyes. It's not much—an open floor plan with a kitchen, living area, and bedroom separated by a half wall. But it's clean and comfortable. Exposed brick and warm wood that makes it feel like home.
She steps inside. Eyes wide as she takes it all in. "Lucas, this is... it's beautiful."
"It's nothing fancy." I set her bag down by the couch. Aware of how small the space suddenly feels with her in it. "But it's mine."
She walks to the windows that overlook Main Street. Watching the rain streak down the glass. Lightning flickers in the distance. The lights flicker again.
"Storm's getting worse," I observe. I move to stand beside her. Not too close, but close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from her body.
"Yeah." She wraps her arms around herself again. I notice she's still shivering. "I should probably get out of these clothes before I catch pneumonia."
The radio in the kitchen crackles to life. Emergency broadcast system cutting through the static. "...severe thunderstorm warning remains in effect for Willowbridge County until 2 AM. Heavy rainfall, damaging winds, and frequent lightning expected. Power outages likely..."
As if on cue, the lights flicker more violently. Maya steps closer to me instinctively. I can feel the electricity in the air. From the storm, and from having her so close.
"Maybe I should grab some candles, just in case."
"Good idea." She looks up at me. There's a moment between us. Recognition, maybe, or acknowledgment of the position we've put ourselves in.
We're alone. In my loft. With a storm raging outside and nowhere for either of us to run.
The lights flicker again. Longer this time. I realize we might be about to find out just how dangerous it is to be trapped in a small space with the one person who's always been able to scramble my brain.
I'm halfway to the kitchen to grab candles when the world goes black.
The sudden darkness is absolute. Swallowing us completely. The hum of the refrigerator dies. The radio cuts to static. Even the distant streetlights outside have vanished. The only sound is the rain hammering against the windows and Maya's sharp intake of breath.
"Lucas?" Her voice is small. I can hear the edge of panic creeping in.
"I'm here." I stop moving. Not wanting to stumble into her in the dark. "Stay where you are. I'll find those candles."
But as I take a step toward where I think the kitchen is, I hear her moving. A quick shuffle of feet and a soft curse as she bumps into something.
"Maya—"
"Sorry, I just—" There's another sound. Like she's reaching out blindly. Then her hand collides with my chest.
The contact makes my pulse stutter. Her palm is flat against my shirt, right over my heart. I wonder if she can feel how fast it's beating.
"Found you," she whispers. There's something in her voice that makes the air between us electric.
I should step back. Should put distance between us. Find those candles. Restore some semblance of normalcy to this situation. But Maya's hand is warm against my chest. She's so close I can feel her breath against my throat.
"The candles are in the kitchen," I manage. Swallowing hard. "I just need to—"
Thunder crashes overhead. So loud and sudden that Maya jumps. Her other hand flies up to grab my shirt. Now she's holding onto me with both hands. Every rational thought in my head evaporates.
"It's okay," I say quietly. My hands come up to rest on her hips without conscious thought. "It's just the storm."
But even as I say it, I know that's not entirely true. There's another kind of storm building in this small, dark space.
Maya tilts her face up toward mine. Even though I can't see her in the darkness, I can feel the heat of her gaze. Her hands are still fisted in my shirt. She's close enough that if I leaned down just a few inches...
"Lucas." My name is barely a breath on her lips, but it fills me with heat.
Lightning flickers outside. Illuminating her face for just a split second. Eyes wide, lips parted, looking at me in a way that makes heat flood south. Then the darkness swallows us again. Leaving only the sound of our breathing and the rain.
"Well," I say, trying to inject some humor into the moment before I do something we'll both regret. "This just got interesting."