Chapter Thirty-Five
MASON
GRAY AND Dad are in the tack room talking and, as I get closer, I can hear the conversation about the latest letter that Gray was telling me about a few weeks ago.
Before I get to the door, I adjust myself in my pants to make sure there is no evidence of the giant fucking hard-on I just walked out of the house with.
Smiling to myself, I realize that I have never felt this happy.
When Sloane was taken, it rattled the part of me that has been afraid of suffering the same fate as my father or my brother. I’ve been breezing through life, trying to avoid the possibility that I might lose a wife, just like they did. The easiest thing to do was to avoid attachments.
When Gray’s wife, Sarah, died in that car accident, he told me when I came home for the funeral that he thought it should have been him to die in that accident.
At the time, I didn’t understand how he could wish for his death, sure; I understood dying to protect someone, but wishing to trade your life with the one you love was something that I didn’t quite understand.
Now I do.
Just trying to imagine life without her, and the baby that I’m now looking forward to, makes my chest hurt so bad that I don’t think I could do it. If given the choice, I would choose death so she could live, rather than live without her. Every time.
Gray and Dad have both done it, and for the life of me, I can’t fathom waking up in a cold bed every morning, even worse, looking at the children that share appearance and personalities with their moms. I’ve been to war, and I’ve looked death in the face many times, but I can say, hands down, that Gray and my dad are the strongest and bravest men I’ve ever known.
As I get closer to the door, I hear irritation laced in Gray’s voice, “The letter we got before Christmas says they will be sending someone to talk with us. The date was at the end of January.”
I step into the room as Dad answers, “I have a call in to Indian Affairs in Tahlequah, I should hear from them before the end of the month. I want to know all our legal rights, the last thing I want is to be unprepared.”
“When you hear from them, let me know and I’ll get my attorney involved.” I say and lean against the wall by the door.
Dad looks at me and his eyes move over my face, when he smirks, I hold my hands out to my sides, “What?”
They are both looking at me now and I lift my eyebrows in question. All Dad says is “She suits you, son.” I know exactly what he is talking about, and my lips tip up on one side.
Feet pounding on the wooden floor of the stables make us all jump, and we move to the door to see what’s happening. Hallie is running frantically from stall to stall with panic marring her features, when she sees us, she runs right for me and grabs my forearms.
Her breaths are coming fast, she must have run from the house, “A man.” She points behind her toward the house and panic shoots through me.
Sloane!
I don’t wait to hear more, if Hallie is down here then Sloane is in the house alone, anger laced with fear electrifies every surface of my skin as I start to run across the stables, I hear Dad and Gray on my heels.
Just as I clear the stable doors and my feet are pounding the cold ground, I hear a gunshot from the house and my heart practically jumps out of my chest before it starts to beat so hard that I can barely breathe.
Sloane doesn’t know how to shoot a gun. I promised her just a few days ago that I would take her out and show her. Now I wonder if I will get to keep that promise, because if she’s not the one that pulled the trigger, who did? Who is the man Hallie saw?
Red creeps into the edges of my eyesight as the house gets closer and I keep repeating in my head ‘please be okay’.
We barrel through the back door so hard that the knob sinks into the drywall and Gray and I take the stairs two at a time. When we get to my bedroom door, relief washes over me when I see Sloane crawling away from Austin, who is lying on his side next to her.
All that matters is that she’s alive.
Diving toward her, I grab her around the waist to pull her back to me. She is coughing and her face is beet red, her eyes focused on the path in front of her. The need to feel her with my own hands and check for wounds drives me even though I can see she is in shock autopilot.
Blood is all over her sweater, jeans and hands, and I don’t think she sees me through the panic that has her eyes blown wide because she starts to scramble harder to get to the bathroom. Her body is tense, and her bloody fingers are slipping on the hardwood as she desperately tries to move away.
As I pull her to me, she squeaks and starts fighting to get out of my grip, “Hey, hey, Sloane, darlin’, it’s me.” I softly croon in her ear and squat behind her to hold her between my legs until she stops moving and her breathing calms down.
Glancing over her shoulder, she sees me and whispers, “Mason?” Recognition moves across her eyes and her whole body relaxes as she turns and grabs me, her arms form a death grip around my shoulders, and I hold her tight as the sobs start to rack her body.
“Sshh, it’s okay, I got ya.” I kiss the bend between her neck and shoulder, my grip on her is nearly as tight as hers on me. What would I have done if I’d lost her?
Giving her a moment to feel safe, I move my mouth close to her ear and keep my voice low and calm, “Darlin’, I need to see that you’re okay. Is any of this blood yours?”
She doesn’t let go, but shakes her head, “It’s his, he was choking me, he was going to kill us, I had to do it. I had to!” Her voice gets higher with each word and the sobs get stronger.
“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.” I keep my arm around her waist and pull her up with me to standing. “It was you or him, darlin’.” Her hair is loose and I stroke her head while pulling her hair into my hand to let it slide through my palm down her back.
She keeps her cheek pressed to my neck as the sobs start to lessen, “Is he dead? Did I kill him?”
I look at Gray who is squatting next to Austin, my gun by his feet, and he shakes his head once and then he looks at Dad behind me, “You want to call the police, or should I?”
“I’ll do it.” Dad growls and I hear his boots retreating on the floor to the hallway.
Glancing at the piece of shit bleeding on my floor, I’m glad I don’t have to worry about him anymore. I cup the back of Sloane’s head and tilt my mouth to her ear, “Darlin’, we need to get out of this room, close your eyes if you don’t want to see.”
She nods her head and keeps her nose buried in my neck. Her whole body is shaking like a leaf, and she is barely standing on her own, so I bend down and hook my arm behind her knees to pick her up.
Setting her on the counter in the kitchen, she finally lets go of my shoulders and I’m able to cup her face between my hands. There are busted blood vessels in her eyes and the red skin burns around her neck are already starting to bruise.
I’m grounding my molars together and keep my poker face in place as I look at the red finger marks around her neck.
“Did you lose consciousness at any time?” I ask as I move the hair off her neck on the other side, keeping my voice as soft as I possibly can through the rage that is squeezing all the muscles in my back and arms.
Her eyes are fixed on mine. She shakes her head once before she swallows and winces. “My throat burns,” she says, almost in a whisper. Her fingers loop lightly around my wrists, “I had to do it, he didn’t give me a choice.”
I think back to the first person I ever killed in Afghanistan and I remember the feeling of floating through the days in disbelief and guilt while I tried to convince myself that it was something that I had to do.
I slide my thumbs across her cheeks and wipe the tears away, “That’s right, he didn’t give you a choice.
” I give her a soft kiss, “Had you not killed him, he would have killed you and our baby. You did the right thing.”
Her spine straightens a little, and she takes a deep breath, “It wasn’t just for me, I had to protect our baby.”
I give her a small, reassuring smile, “You’re going to be a great mother.”
A small sob escapes her throat, and more tears follow before she nods. I step up to the counter she is sitting on and wrap my arms around her, squeezing her to me, it’s the only way I can calm my own anger. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she is safe and happy.