Page 9 of Stolen Moments

“Oh, now you’re concerned?”

His brow furrows, and my heart skips a beat. He can’t possibly be jealous.

Taking my turn, I type…

Yes.

I nervously bite my thumbnail, anticipating his response.

I don’t think your fake boyfriend likes that answer.

A giggle escapes me. I’m enjoying messing with him.

Putting him out of his jealous rage, I type.

I’m going to visit my brother, Chris. You met him. He’s premiering a short film for film school. Then, I’ll be off to visit my parents on the east coast for the holidays.

He nods and with his eyes on mine, he types his response.

What about your brother? Is he going too?

I shake my head.

No. Long story.

I’ve got time.

So I tell him—actually, I type—the story of why Chris doesn’t visit our parents. Well, as much as I can. There are some things I can’t tell anyone.

We go back and forth, chatting and laughing. It’s strange. I’ve never opened up to someone like this before. Maybe it’s because I don’t have to say the words aloud. It’s easier to share when my fingers do the talking. Or maybe it’s just Mason that makes me feel comfortable enough to share.

Whatever it is, I shove it down and enjoy our conversation. Unfortunately, nothing can come of this. Ever.

My heart sinks, thinking about having to walk away from him when the plane lands.

But I will. I have no choice. My life isn’t my own. At least, not yet.

The tiny glimmer of hope Mason gave me on the flight dies when I leave him standing on the curb of the airport, with a wave goodbye. And no way to find me.

Chapter three

Mason

Three days.

It’s been three long and miserable days since Emery walked away from me at the airport, and I still can’t get the stunning woman with the sparkling topaz eyes and the poutiest red lips I’ve ever seen out of my head.

My cell buzzes in my pocket for the fifth time in a row, which can only mean one of two things: my brothers are on the group chat, or it’s work. Seeing as I’m sitting here on the couch with my laptop working on some code, it’s most likely the former.

I pull out my phone, surprised to find Cameron reaching out. His face fills the screen as his call comes in.

With a groan, I answer because he’ll keep calling if I don’t.

“The answer is no. I’m busy,” I all but growl.

“Mase. So glad you’re in a good mood, sweet cheeks.”

“What do you want, Cam?” I’m already dreading his answer. It’s Friday, so there’s only one thing he wants from me, and it’s not to stay in.

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