Page 9 of Open Arms

“Yes I can. Consider it a welcome gift.”

“That’s far too generous a gift.”

“Well we can take installments out of your future paychecks if you want, but I really don’t see the need. I have the money. You must find a safe place to stay. I want to do this for you, Chloe.”

Mason looked at me, then at Eryn, and back again.

“Seems good to me,” he said, and at that point I knew he would not argue with her about this or anything. Eryn had a wayof taking over but being so darn serene and kind about it, you barely felt it coming.

I put the feelings of shame and inadequacy aside so that I didn’t break down in front of Mason. We discussed details as I tried not to stare at him too much. The way his shirt pulled across his broad shoulders, or how his eyes crinkled at the corners. I needed to focus, but his striking looks were making it hard.

I took a deep breath to steady myself as we finalized the details. This was really happening—I was getting a fresh start in this idyllic little town.

Mason fetched the rental agreement for me to sign. As I scrawled my new identity onto the page, he gave me a searching look.

“So where are you from originally, Chloe?”

My pulse quickened. I hated lying, but the truth was too dangerous right now.

“Oh, just a small town a few states over,” I said evasively. “You wouldn’t know it.”

He nodded, though his intense gaze told me he wasn’t fully convinced. I hoped he wouldn’t press the issue.

To my relief, he simply handed me a set of keys with a crooked smile. “Well, welcome to Whittier Falls. It’s a quiet place, but I think you’ll like it just fine.”

“I think I will, too,” I said. And I meant it.

5

Mason

Leaning against the door frame,the weight of my responsibilities pressing down on me, Chloe Beecham appeared almost fragile against the backdrop of the guest house porch. I observed her, a hint of worry nibbling at me as I chewed on the inside of my cheek—a nervous habit that surfaced when uncertainty loomed.

“I should’ve thought this through,” I muttered quietly to myself. Renting out the place wasn’t solely about earning extra cash; it was about inviting someone into our lives—mine and Abby’s. Chloe carried an enigmatic air in her guarded gaze that made me question if I had welcomed trouble in addition to a tenant.

“Who’s that, Daddy?” Abigail’s high-pitched voice interrupted my thoughts, drawing my attention to her standing there with wide gray eyes filled with curiosity.

“That’s Miss Chloe, munchkin,” I straightened up, attempting to compose my features into a neutral expression. “She’s going to stay in the guest house for a while.”

“Is she nice?” Abby asked, her small hand slipping into mine as she peeked around my leg.

“Well, we’ll find out.” Trying to muster a smile that felt more like a wince, I watched as Abby tugged on my hand and approached Chloe. “Can I say hi?”

“Sure thing, kiddo. Just be polite,” I advised as Abby skipped over to Chloe, her brown curls bouncing with each step.

“Hi! I’m Abigail, but you can call me Abby!” With all the confidence only a six-year-old could possess, she introduced herself eagerly. “Are you going to live here? Do you like horses?”

Setting down her box with a small smile playing on her lips, Chloe responded gently, “Hello, Abby. Yes, I’ll be staying here and yes, I do like horses.”

“Good,” Abby nodded seriously as if that settled everything. “Daddy has lots of them!”

As my daughter engaged with Chloe in an animated conversation about horses and life on the ranch, my heart swelled witnessing their interaction. A part of me hoped that maybe my initial reservations about Chloe were unfounded; perhaps all she needed was a fresh start—the same chance life had once given me.

Chloe smiled warmly at Abby as she chatted away, but I could see a hint of sadness in her eyes. She seemed genuinely interested in what Abby had to say, but there was something heavy weighing on her that she tried to hide.

When there was a lull in the conversation, Chloe looked up at me. “Thank you again for renting me the guest house, Mr. Bridges,” she said softly.

“Please, call me Mason. And you’re welcome,” I replied.

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