Page 187 of Mason

But I hear them.

“...he’s changed,” Allegra says softly. “You can see it in his eyes. Mason used to move like a man who didn’t believe he was allowed to want anything.”

“He still doesn’t,” Mia murmurs. “Except her.”

The room stills. Even the air pauses.

Her.

I know they mean me. I feel the word wrap itself around my spine like a shiver, like a name I don’t quite know how to answer to.

“Do you think she’ll go back to him?” Lula asks, so softly it’s almost kind.

“I think she’s scared,” Maxine says. Her voice doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t waver. “But I think she’ll see it eventually. The way he looks at her—hell, the way he waits for her. He’s not pushing. He’s just... there. And Mason Ironside doesn’t just wait for people.”

“Especially not women,” Jackie adds. “That man used to be a black hole in a suit. Cold. Focused. Dead inside.”

“Not anymore,” Mia says.

I lie still. Breathe through the crack in my chest that’s just a little wider now.

Because I know what kind of man Mason used to be. I saw it in the way he looked at the world—with nothing behind his eyes but duty and ruin. I saw it in the way he moved, like he was already halfway to the grave and dragging everyone else behind him.

But then he looked at me.

And it was different.

And itterrifiedme.

Because I don’t know how to be wanted like that.

I know how to be convenient.

I know how to be useful.

I know how to bequietandcarefuland easy to leave behind.

But Mason doesn’t look at me like I’m background noise.

He looks at me like I’m gravity.

Like he’s spent a lifetime falling, and I’m the only thing that’s ever made him want to land.

And I don’t know how to hold that.

I don’t know how tobethat.

Because no one’s ever waited for me. Not like that.

Not without conditions. Not without keeping score.

I’ve always been the afterthought.

The second pick.

The temporary comfort on someone else’s road tomore.

And Mason?

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