20. Callie
Chapter twenty
I can’t believe I waited twenty-three years before throwing my first sledgehammer through a wall. This shit is both empowering and therapeutic. After the call I got this morning, I needed this.
Derek was officially released. My lawyers are pushing for his to present our offer, encouraging a clean break since we had already agreed to the terms verbally, and advising them we will go to court if they continue to create unnecessary delays.
I lift the hammer back and send it through what’s left of the wall, one final blow making it all crumble down.
“I love it already,” Mason says from behind me, his chest warming my back with his proximity. It’s especially appreciated today since it’s unseasonably cold, the sky outside shrouded in grey.
I nod, heaving as I take in the room now that the dust has settled. It’s much more open with the fireplace as a central focal point between the kitchen and dining room.
“You, ah, kinda went to town there.”
“Sorry,” I say, placing the sledgehammer down to start loading the fallen bricks into a wheelbarrow.
“It’s alright.” Mason helps load the rubble, his attention lingering so intently I can feel it like a weight on my shoulders. “Sometimes it unlocks pent-up energy.”
“I can see that.” Sighing, I toss another brick into the wheelbarrow.
“Everything okay? You’ve seemed off this morning.”
“Yeah.” My voice wobbles as I reach for another brick.
He’s quiet as he watches me, and I’m not sure if I’m in the mood to be vulnerable with him about this.
To let him see the depths of the mess I made with my ex, how stupid I was to get mixed up with him, and how I failed to protect myself.
I don’t want him to pity me or risk seeing a look in his eyes that says I should have known better.
I can’t handle that. Not from him. Not when my head can’t comprehend this man is my boss, despite the way things have felt different between us lately—working on the house, picking samples, the way he stepped up when Navie came to the office last week.
My heart is currently giving a middle finger to the professional line we drew weeks ago, while my head keeps pointing out the other side of my life that demands logic, not emotion.
“Callie? About the other day—”
I snatch up another brick, but it slips just as quickly from my hand, hitting my leg before dropping with a clunk to the ground.
“Ahh, shit.” I clutch my shin with a hiss, squeezing away the sting.
Mason comes rushing to his knees in front of me, hands gingerly holding behind my calf and lower thigh.
“Can I see?” he says gently, looking up at me from under his long, dark lashes.
I pull my hands away, wincing as cool air hits my cut. There’s blood dripping just below my knee.
“I’ve got a first-aid kit out the front.” He stands, then scoops one arm behind my knees, the other around my back as he lifts me into his arms and carries me outside.
Setting me on one of the chairs on the porch, he pulls off his safety gloves, then reaches for the first-aid kit stored beneath the trestle table we always eat lunch at. He pulls out some wipes, getting to work on cleaning the cut first.
He’s so close to me, my other knee touches his chest, where he leans in. I clench my toes in an effort to stay still, but he must misread the way my legs tremble in restraint as pain, not the proximity of him.
A shiver ripples up my spine, the air cool and the sky so dark it’s as if we’re approaching midnight, yet it’s barely halfway through the morning.
He tosses the dirty wipe away, then reaches for another, bringing his free hand to the back of my calf, barely touching me even though I feel it all over. “You okay?”
I nod. At least I think I do.
“I think the bleeding’s slowing. It doesn’t look too deep.
” Mason grabs a bottle of water, leaving the absence of his palm still burning against my leg, and slowly pours it over my wound.
His thumb caresses the sensitive skin, careful not to touch it directly.
When he’s satisfied it looks okay, he grabs a cloth, patting the area dry.
He uncaps some ointment, and as if I might break, he soothes the cream over the cut.
I think I’ve felt more from him treating my injury than anything else I’ve ever felt with a man.
Liv’s speech not long ago about fantastic sex slams into me. You feel it everywhere. I’m fairly confident anyone lucky enough to sleep with Mason Heart wouldn’t just feel it, they’d become it. The very definition of no longer existing without him.
As he fixes a bandage in place, his thumbs run along the edges, smoothing it down.
“All better,” he murmurs.
“Thank you.”
He tips his head, studying me. “If something’s going on, you can tell me. Is it your parents?”
I sink into the chair, inadvertently pressing my knees further into his chest, and when his hands cup my calves, thumbs brushing back and forth, I don’t make any move to stop it. If anything, it makes it easier to breathe.
“My ex got out of jail this morning.”
Mason’s eyebrows jump up. “That was quick.”
I nod, watching as my leg takes on a mind of its own and gently swings back and forth against Mason’s side. I take another deep breath.
“Is there a reason that’s got you so shaken?” he asks, eyes narrowing as his jaw clenches and his fingers flex against my skin. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No.” My other leg moves, too emboldened with this guy locked between them.
This is a dangerous position to be in, but my mind is not in control right now. As much as I want to push away from Mason, my body revolts.
“Derek’s been away since I found out I was pregnant.
I guess I didn’t realise that made me feel like Navie was untouchable.
I don’t want to share custody with him.” I shake my head, my heart thundering in my chest. “I don’t want to spend a day away from my baby girl, I don’t want to have to play nice, and I don’t trust him around her.
I don’t want him to break her heart.” My voice cracks, and then I’m pulled into Mason’s chest.
One hand strokes my hair while the other rubs up and down my back. “Let me get my lawyer on to it. She can be real scary when she wants to be. I guarantee his lawyer has a lot less sway than mine.”
My forehead rests against his shoulder, and I shamelessly inhale his cologne. “How come it feels like you do more for me than anyone else ever has?”
His chuckle rumbles against my cheek. “I don’t know, but I’m happy to keep doing it.” He squeezes my side like he’s bolstering my confidence back up. “Hey, do you want to read another letter?”
I nod, blowing out a deep breath as I sit back. “Sure.”
Mason plucks the next letter from the tin we leave on the table, then sits in the chair beside me so we can read it together.
My dearest Florence,
Foolish of me to believe the absence of your touch was the highest degree of torture, for in its place can only be your tears. The pursuit of your rapture is my only purpose each day, even when the denial of our love feels destined to obliterate my heart.
Your father’s actions, though appearing self-serving, only seek your security. You are to be wed, and it is my failure alone that I am not worthy of you. Yet. I will not surrender your affection. Until my dying breath, I will hold it, as you hold mine.
Yours, Greyson.
“Wait.” I shake my head. “Her father’s trying to marry her off?”
“I guess that wasn’t unusual for that time period.” Mason sets the letter on the table.
I slump in my chair, defeated. Is anyone destined to live happily ever after?
There’s a ringing in my ears, like the absence of sound. It feels as though the Earth stops spinning seconds before heavy rain falls all around us.
“Shit. The power saw.” Mason scrambles to his feet, racing down the porch steps.
I chase after him, watching as he grabs a tarp from his ute and starts unfolding it. I take the other end, then help him drape it over the workbench on the grass where he’d been cutting timber earlier, ready for the new frames to go up next week.
I hold it down as Mason grabs a large strap and secures it around the table, protecting the tools.
Cold water soaks our clothes straight through to the skin. His hair sticks to his forehead, falling into his eyes, and rain drips from the end of his nose and down to his lips.
He moves quickly to get everything covered, then tosses me over his shoulder before bolting back to the house.
I don’t know why—call it hysteria—but laughter bursts out of me. My hands fisting the back of Mason’s T-shirt, my face tilted to the sky, and I just embrace the moment—messily, unguarded, and perfectly untroubled.
Thunder rolls above us, followed by a sharp crack. Flashes of purple and white add to the magic. Mason’s shirt is drenched, making my hands slip against the fabric. I lose my grip, my chest slamming against his back, and it’s enough to send us careening over.
“Fuck,” Mason hisses, as I feel a tug at my knees and firm pressure at my back.
Instead of crashing to the ground, Mason twists, his back hitting the ground with a thud as I land against his chest, my hips falling into the cradle of his. Our noses almost touch, and I can see the drops of water as they gather on his long, dark lashes.
His eyes move over my face, darting this way and that as if he’s rushing to take me all in. His thumb glides over my waist, his fingertips digging into my skin, asking, begging, to not let go.
My gaze falls to his lips. His breath caresses mine, so close I can almost taste him. It’s inevitable. He’s staring at my mouth just like he was the other day, as if he wants to make me his. I recognise the look because it mirrors what I’m feeling.
I want to know what his lips feel like pressed against mine. Are they as soft as they look? Does he kiss slow and sweet, or wild and unrestrained?
Raindrops splash against my cheek, feeling hot, or is that me? Burning from the inside out. There’s a fire inside me that I’ve never felt before. The intensity of this want.
More rain falls, dripping onto my lip. My tongue reaches out to taste it at the same time Mason’s thumb caresses the spot, making us collide.
I suck in a breath as his thumb stops. His eyes are glued to where we touch. Then, ever so slightly, he traces the tip of my tongue.
“Callie,” he whispers.
In slow motion, his lips come within reach. The rolling thunder around us is like an echo of how my heart beats in my chest, stretching out to every limb, because Mason Heart is something you feel everywhere.
His hand squeezes against my waist, and I hope it leaves a mark. I want to see the evidence of his want later and know I wasn’t the only one who—
Thunder cracks so loud, it feels like the earth is splitting in two. The sky flashes like a strobe light. Purple. White. Purple.
He blinks as if he’s coming out of a trance and studies the overwhelming downpour we’re caught in.
Gripping behind my back, he jackknives up, then pulls me the rest of the way, lifting me over the bottom step like always until we’re once again under the shelter of the front porch, breathing hard as we stare at each other.
When the next beat of thunder snaps, so do we.
He rushes to me, and I throw myself into his waiting arms.