Page 62 of Without Judgment

“Nah. I’ll leave that to karma. Mine has more to do with my four-legged friends.” My wish was for all of the shelter dogs to find loving homes. “How long have you had this place?”

“Since I was little. My dad and I used to come up here. There’s a creek and a lake not too far away where we’d go fishing. Since he lives in Arizona, he signed the cabin and forty acres over to me officially a few years back. When I was over in Iraq, I used to dream about this place. Count the days until I could get back here.”

Sensing the sadness when he spoke about being deployed, I searched for his hand with mine. But I dropped it immediately when he tensed at my touch. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He took my hand back in his. “It’s just been years since I’ve held hands with someone.”

Knowing what I did of Mason, I suspected affection didn’t come naturally to him. He seemed so on his own. It had to be lonely.

“It’s beautiful up here. I can see why you dreamt of it. I bet it was bad over there.” It was a statement rather than a question.

He let out a breath. “Not great.”

I didn’t press. Instead, I chose to try learning a bit more about his family. “Your father moved to Arizona, huh?”

“Yeah, remarried after my mom passed, and they relocated to Phoenix.”

“Do you like your stepmom?” I’d always wondered how accepting I would’ve been if my dad had remarried. Some of my friend’s fathers had moved on to trophy wives as a midlife crisis reward. But mine had never once brought another woman even to meet us, let alone become part of our lives.

“I don’t know her very well. She had younger kids. Two boys. They’re teenagers now. So, four months after my mother’s death, while I went off to college, my father was playing house with another family.”

I sensed his resentment and couldn’t blame him. Four months was super quick. While I had latched onto a relationship of my own to make up for the gap I had in my family, it seemed Mason had done the opposite. He’d decided to forgo any relationships whatsoever. “I don’t think I would’ve reacted well to that.”

He turned to look at me, appearing to hesitate over his next words but then deciding to share them. “I had a lot of anger issues, I suppose you could call them. Acted out. Did some stupid stuff in college. Your brother was the single reason I didn’t ruin my chance to go into the Marine Corps.”

Trevor had told me the story, but I appreciated Mason sharing it. “Was the anger part of why you went into the service?”

He was silent a minute, making me wonder if he’d share this time. “Yes. Straightened me out. Taught me a great deal about discipline. Also got me away from things. That was probably the biggest draw.”

“I take it you don’t go home much?”

“Nah. I grew up outside of San Antonio, but since college, Austin has felt more like home.”

“You have a place there now?”

“I do. An apartment. Not that I’ve spent much time there.”

“Sorry. You could always drop me off—”

He cut me off. “That’s not happening. And even before this job, I was traveling a lot.”

There he was, back to grumpy. “Do I need to fire you again?”

His eyes met mine and then glanced down to where his hand held mine. “You can try, but I don’t consider this as being on the job.”

Oh. The fact he didn’t consider being with me right now as part of his contract with my father meant he was here because he wanted to be? The idea struck me deeply. I looked up at the beautiful sky again and listened to the nature around us come to life. “I can see why you dreamt of this place while you were in Iraq. It’s peaceful. Soothing.”

He didn’t speak for a while. “I lost one of my good friends over there.”

“Is that what you have nightmares about?” I wasn’t sure he’d tell me, but after a moment, he finally did.

“I see the truck in front of us. He’s in it. We’re on patrol. Then boom. It blows up. There’s smoke, the smell of gas, yelling. I get out, run towards it, but it’s too hot. It’s burning. And he’s trapped inside, screaming from the fire and unable to get out. I can’t to get to him. Finally, we get the door pried open, but it’s too late. He’s gasping. Both burned and messed up from shrapnel. I kept shouting for a medic, but it was too late.”

I squeezed his hand, wiping my tears away with my other one.

He glanced over, focusing on me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burden you with that image.”

Emotion was thick in my voice. “I’m glad you could share it with me. And I’m sorry for your loss. What was his name?”

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