A break did sound tempting, preferably one in the Bahamas while I was stretched out on a beach towel, watching an amazing sunset off an ocean view while a shirtless Mason served me a pi?a colada with a tiny umbrella in it, shish-kebobbing a stack of rum-soaked fruit.
I blinked at him to realize he’d ushered me into the dimly lit kitchen. Instead of a colorful sunset, I saw a stack of dirty dishes sitting by the sink. Mason was most definitely not shirtless—grr—and the cup he thrust at me was full of drab, boring ice water.
Feeling ancient all of the sudden, I eyed the glass without taking it. I couldn’t drink right now if a masked gunman held a pistol to my temple and told me to swallow or die.
My gaze sought Mason’s desperately. I was still terrified for Sarah’s sake. “Are you sure she’s going to be okay?”
He stared at me before shaking his head. Then his lips tilted into a soft smile, and the skin around his eyes crinkled with amusement. “You know, your eyes look really big and blue when you’ve been crying.”
My mouth fell open. “How can you possibly think about eyes at a time like this? Your sister just—”
“Shh.” After setting the cup of water on the table, Mason took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “Come here.”
He tugged me to him, and I sank against his chest, clutching his shirt hard as I balled my hands into fists. Burying my face in his shoulder and seeking comfort, I held on to him for dear life. My eyes watered some more when my sore nose bumped against his collar bone, but I didn’t care. This was heaven. He rubbed my back and pressed his cheek to my temple, giving me exactly what I needed.
“She’s going to be fine,” he reassured me for a second time. “She is fine.”
“How do you know?” I looked up and saw blue and yellow flecks in his silver irises. They were exquisite, like reflections of the beauty within were sparkling through a magnificent stained-glass window.
His lips twitched. “Well. I have this theory. If you love someone enough, you can make them invincible. Like your feelings for them are so strong they work as a magical shield, protecting them from all harm and pain.”
I sniffed. “Like the protective spell Harry’s mom used to save his life from Voldemort? Her love protected him.”
Mason chuckled and kissed my nose. “Yeah. Kind of exactly like that.”
“I like that theory.” I lowered my head to rest my cheek back against his shoulder. “I wish it were really true.”
Lips brushed my temple as Mason blew out a shuddered breath. “Yeah. So do I.” His voice was hoarse with emotion as his arms tightened around me, forming a protective shell as if he wanted to protect me from all harm and pain.
I closed my eyes, soaking up the comforting warmth emanating off him. We stood there in his mother’s kitchen, embracing forever. I grew drowsy and languid. I was so drained I might have even dozed off.
“Thank you so much for coming home,” I slurred against his chest, even more sedated by his drugging smell. He gave off some kind of clean musk that made me breathe in deeper, falling further into a tranquilized state.
“Why wouldn’t I?” He stroked my hair, just like my mom used to do to put me to sleep after I’d had a nightmare when I was young.
God, he was trying to knock me unconscious, wasn’t he?
Oh, well. That was okay. I’d totally let him.
“I don’t know,” I murmured. “I was…I was worried you were busy. With a woman.”
As if throwing a bucket of arctic ice water all over both of us, my question broke the spell.
Mason tensed and dropped his hand from my hair. “No.” His voice went hard. Abrupt. “I don’t get off work at the club until after eleven. I was still there.”
“Oh.” I lifted my face, but his eyes were averted. “Well, thank you anyway. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t calmed me down.”
He stepped back. And every place he’d been pressing against me—warming me—turned cold and bereft from his sudden absence. “You handled it just fine,” he said, though he even sounded cold. “You found a safe place for her and got help. There’s not much else to do when she’s having an episode.”
I studied the side of his face. He couldn’t even look at me since I’d brought up his job.
Sick and tired of being evaded like this for the past thirteen most miserable days of my life, I said, “I’ve missed you.”
I know how pathetic I sounded. Any woman who admits that to a guy who’s been avoiding her might as well just tear her heart from her chest and hand it over to him, begging, “Here, please stomp all over this and rip it into little bitty pieces for me, will you? Thanks.”
But I couldn’t help it. The words just spilled out. I had missed him. Too damn much. It wasn’t healthy to miss anyone the way I’d missed him.
He darted a quick glance at me, furrowing his brows as if my comment confused him. “I haven’t gone anywhere.” But he wasn’t fooling me. I saw the guilt and the misery in his stormy eyes before he turned away.
“You know what I mean,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest because I felt too exposed. “I thought we were friends.”