Page 38 of Word to the Wise

He’s being nice because even if I am quick, the only reason we were close is that I got the impression he didn’t want to get too far ahead after I slipped. So he made it easy on me.

Either way, I don’t call him out on it because I didn’t mind.

“Was that your first time rock climbing?”

“No, there’s this wall in one of my dad’s casinos in Vegas. Sienna and I used to spend entire days going up and down that thing. She wasn’t scared of heights either.”

His gaze drops to the floor, and his words sink in.

I’d like to know so much more about his sister. It sounds like they were close. But every time he brings her up, he abruptly stops the conversation, so I know he’s not ready to talk about her.

From everything I’ve read online, she seemed like a free spirit. The moment she turned eighteen, she started traveling, documenting her year circling the globe. She seemed to have it all. Until she fell off the map after that trip. I still don’t understand what happened between her exploring the world and ending her life.

There are very few articles printed about her right before her death. The few I found, talked about her partying a bit more than she did in her teens. But she was in herearly twenties, so it made sense. Nothing about what was printed seemed out of the ordinary.

Mason glances back up at me, and I’m desperate to ask. To get the information from the source and not the internet. But while his father’s business dealings with Carter are part of the story I’m writing, Mason isn’t. And neither is Sienna.

The things I want to learn aren’t for research purposes, so I keep my mouth shut.

“Are you working tomorrow?” I change the subject.

Mason nods, his shoulders relaxing. “Yeah. Riggs is finally coming in for his chest piece.”

“That’s the one you’ve been working on?”

“Yep.”

Every night this past week, he’s been coming home and adding to it. The sketch has taken up residence at the kitchen table, and it’s stunning.

I wish I could see the world like Mason does. In images and colors. I’d like to see the beauty without feeling the need to analyze it. I’ve always been a more fact-driven person, carefully sorting my life into pro and con columns. Research and evidence are where I find peace because it can be explained.

Everything has a reason and a place.

Or so I thought.

Mason’s art makes me question that. There’s no explaining the way he conveys emotion with pen and paper. It’s heartbreaking. Beautiful. Unexplainable.

“Well, let me know if you need me to bring food down to the shop if you’re too busy to take a break then.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He shakes his head. “You’ve got your own work you’re focusing on.”

“I don’t mind.”

After getting out of the house today, I broke the fear of stepping outside of these walls. I remembered how much I miss the simple freedom of just being out. Mason did that for me.

“I’ll be fine, but thanks.”

“Whatever you say, big guy.” I set my water glass in the sink.

“Big guy?” He grins.

“You’re the one who called me bite-sized. It’s only fair.”

Mason grins. “I’m not complaining.”

His voice drops, and it hits me in my core. What started playfully makes my mind wander to places I don’t usually let it.

I can’t remember the last time I wanted to have sex. A time when I thought I might actually enjoy it and that it wasn’t part of an apology or an argument. But the thought of Mason in every tall inch of glory, standing in front of me, sparks something that’s been long lost.

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