Page 44 of My Secret Santa Mason

I didn’t even know where I was going from here. Where could I start over—again—and create a new life? I couldn’t imagine anywhere being as warm and open and welcoming as Silver Ridge had been.

And all the people I was leaving behind, too. Rae. Laken. Hank at the general store. Betty at the diner.

There was no way I could stay here, though. Not after the mess I’d made of Mason’s life.

It was always the same, wasn’t it? Wherever I went, whatever I did, I just seemed to leave a trail of destruction behind me.

What had happened with Dylan and Serena… that hadn’t been my fault, but it still felt like somehow, it had been. Even if ithad been just because I’d been too naïve to see the truth that everyone else saw a mile away.

I’d been naïve again, hadn’t I? I’d thought I could live a life that I didn’t feel I needed to hide, start a business with a good reputation, and social media had been a part of that…

Well, I’d been an idiot before.

Silver Ridge was supposed to be my fresh start. The Christmas events that I’d done for people, the new friendships, the possibility of something real with Mason—it was all supposed to be a new beginning I’d hoped I deserved after the pain Dylan had put me through. But instead, I’d ruined everything.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands shaking. I had the last bit of packing to do but my emotions were getting the better of me.

Mason was furious with me. And I couldn’t blame him. I’d brought Wallace into his life again, even when I hadn’t known it at the time. I’d put Mason in danger when he’d been trying so hard to stay off the grid, to stay safe. And for what? Because I couldn’t stay away from social media? Because I’d wanted to prove to Dylan, my old friends, my family that despite all the hell they’d put me through I could be happy again? Why had I wanted to show it off to them? It should have been enough that I justhadit.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought about Mason’s face, the anger, the betrayal written all over it. The way he looked at me… God, it hurt like a bitch. It hurt more than anything I’d felt in a long time.

And the worst part was, he was right. I had fucked everything up.

I wiped away the tears angrily, trying to pull myself together. Crying wasn’t going to fix anything. Nothing would. Mason didn’t trust me anymore, and I couldn’t stay here, pretending everything was okay when I knew it wasn’t. I had to go. I had toleave Silver Ridge, just like I’d left Denver. There was no point in sticking around when all I did was destroy the good things in my life.

And you just keep running, a small voice said in the back of my mind. But what else was I supposed to do? Judging myself for how I tried to deal with it on top of everything else wasn’t going to do me any good, right?

I stood up, looking for the last of the things I would need right now. My chest ached, and my head felt like it was splitting open from stress.

I was lost, struggling to think. I had no idea where I was going to go, no idea what I was going to do.

I glanced around the cottage one last time, my heart breaking at the thought of leaving this place behind. It had become my home in such a short amount of time. But home wasn’t supposed to feel like this—like I was a burden, like I was a curse. It was better for everyone if I left.

A lump formed in my throat. Part of me wanted to stay. Part of me wanted to fight for this, to fight for the life I’d built here. But what was the point?

I was almost done packing the last of my things when I heard a knock—three sharp raps on the door that stopped me dead in my tracks. My heart jumped into my throat, hope flaring inside me.

Mason. Maybe he’d come back. Maybe he’d realized… maybe he’d forgiven me. Maybe…

I walked to the door and opened it, my heart in my throat. But it wasn’t Mason standing on the other side.

The moment the door opened, I knew I was in trouble. The look in their eyes—the cold, dead-eyed stare that told me they weren’t here for a chat—made my blood run cold. Fear coursed through me. They’d come for me.

“What are you doing here?”

They pushed into my house.

“Get out!” I cried out, trying to sound strong, trying to summon some kind of authority in my voice. But the tremor in my words betrayed me, and they didn’t even flinch. They’d broken in before, and there were a lot of them and just one of me.

They shoved the door open wider, barging into the cottage like they owned the place. I stumbled back, panic clawing at my throat as I tried to put some distance between us. “You need to leave,” I repeated, my voice shaking now. “You can’t be here.”

One of the men—a big, hulking guy with a scar running down the side of his face—smirked at me, his eyes narrowing. “You better come with us, sweetheart.”

Adrenaline coursed through my veins, fight-or-flight kicking in, my mind screaming at me to run, to get out. I made for the door, but they blocked me. When I spun around toward the back door in the kitchen, they were there, too.

There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” I shouted, trying to muster whatever fight I had left in me. But they didn’t budge. Instead, they closed in, their presence suffocating, menacing.

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