Be My Hero (Forbidden Men, #3)

"No." I grinned and shook my head. "Nothing. You're doing great. I'm going to change into something to sleep in and get a snack. Be right back."

When she nodded, I grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of sweats and darted out of the room. I couldn't stop grinning as I changed in the bathroom and then ransacked the kitchen, looking for food. I finally just smeared butter on some saltines, sandwiched them together, and called it good. After tossing all the disposable trash I found on the counters, I stacked the dirty dishes so there was some counter space left and hurried back to my room.

I'd been gone five minutes max, but that must've been too long for Tristy. She'd already settled Julian back into his crib and returned to her own room.

With a disappointed sigh, I stroked the sleeping kid's head before settling into my own bed, where I dropped crumbs all over my sheets as I polished off my snack. I guess I couldn't expect too much from the new mommy yet. So for now, I'd take five minutes. She'd touched him and held him. That was progress.





Chapter 6


EVA


My roommates were driving me crazy. A week after the wicked witch of Florida had swooped in to mess with Mason and Reese's life, the awkwardness in our apartment grew so thick I was sure it'd smother all three of us. And it was Mason's fault entirely.

Reese tried, she really freaking tried to move past it, to shrug off Mrs. Garrison's visit and get on with her life. But Mason just wouldn't let her. He kept acting like some kind of abused dog who'd been kicked in the ribs one too many times. He shied away from Reese, couldn't look her in the eyes, stopped touching her completely. His guilt was so tangible it left a nasty aftertaste in my mouth. Despite her normally upbeat personality, even Reese had stopped attempting to be cheerful.

They were both so miserable; I hated it.

So when Mason walked into the kitchen one evening while I was fixing myself a snack—carrots, apple slices, and celery smothered in peanut butter because I wanted to deliver a healthy kid—I dropped my butter knife on the counter and grabbed his arm, yanking him close. I'd had enough of this shit.

He tried to jerk back in surprise, but I wouldn't let him go.

"This has to stop," I hissed, glancing warily toward the opening of the kitchen in the hopes that Reese didn't walk in any second and catch me chewing him out.

"What? I just walked into the kitchen." Pulling his arm away, he managed to free himself as he scowled back.

I snorted. "As if. Your non-stop moping is sucking the life out of Reese. I hope you realize that."

His face drained of color, telling me how much he'd noticed it . . . and hated it, too. But the way his jaw tightened said he was pissed I'd brought it up. Stepping in close, he whispered, "What the hell am I supposed to do about it? I can't stop what happened. It already happened."

"Yes, it did. But it's over and done with. All you can do is control how you react to it. And you're having a really bad reaction. It's dragging Reese down with you."

His eyes filled with torment. "Don't you think I know that? It's killing me to see her every day with all that pain in her eyes. But I don't know how to stop it. There aren't enough apologies on earth to make up for what happened. And there's no way to fix it. No way to—"

"Just stop right there." Rolling my eyes, I set my hand over his mouth to shut him up. "You're thinking about this all wrong. Looking for forgiveness from her is not what you need, because newsflash, numb nuts: she's already forgiven you. That's the amazing thing about Reese. She forgives. And an even more amazing thing about her is that she moves on. Just think about it. Were you able to tell her ex-boyfriend had tried to kill her and nearly succeeded just four months before you met her? No, because she has this super power of being about to get past awful, disturbing, traumatic events. It's all part of the beauty of who she is. She would've gotten past this last episode with Mrs. Garrison too, but you're not letting her. Every time you pull away, or refuse to meet her eyes, or dodge a conversation, it kills her."

Mason closed his eyes and covered his face with both hands. He gulped audibly and took a moment to regain his composure. Then he blew out a breath and dropped his fingers.

"I swear to God, Eva. The last thing I want to do is hurt her, but I just can't . . . God." He swiped the heels of his hands over his eyes. "I don't know how to get past this. I don't deserve her forgiveness. I don't . . . how the hell do I touch something so pure and amazing when I'm so fucking filthy?"

I bit my lip when tears began to swim in my eyes. Freaking pregnancy hormones. They just wouldn't leave me alone, would they? But my heart was breaking for poor Mason. The man could not forgive himself for what he'd been.