Page 79 of Hidden Resolution
“I don’t know what to think,” he admitted. “In addition to the mugging, your car being blown up, and your mother’s house fire, we’re dealing with a fucking mad cow.”
“Good point.” She tucked her hands in her coat pockets. “I’ll wait.”
After satisfying himself that no one was hiding in the apartment, he announced the all clear.
“Be sure to reset your alarm,” he reminded her.
“I’m not a child, Mason,” she snapped. Fatigue and grief drew her mouth down, but her eyes snapped with annoyance.
If he had the energy, he’d have grinned at her fire. She was beautiful despite the soot and filthy hair.
“I know you aren’t.” He hauled her close. “And I’m sorry about Erica, love. I know she was a sister to you.”
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” she choked out. “We rarely went a day without talking. To think that she…” The catch in her voice slayed him, and his heart ached for her. “And poor Jacob,” she whispered. “I don’t know how you’re upright.”
The dam burst, and sobs wracked her body.
Barely inside the doorway, Mason slid to the floor with Shonda cradled in his arms. Between hiccuping sobs and sniffles, she relayed another favorite story of her and Erica’s girlhood exploits. She recapped their lives, recounting humorous and poignant moments. Each telling of a poor rich girl’s loneliness.
Mason swiped at the dampness on his cheeks.
Two people near and dear to him had lost the people they loved most in the world. Fuck if he didn’t remember what the devastation felt like. He was only eighteen and hadn’t yet graduated from high school when he got the call about Melanie’s accident and resulting death. He’d been wrecked.
Looking back, it felt like another lifetime—as if the tragedy had happened to someone else.
Yet he continued to allow the past to dictate his future, didn’t he? And the reason why escaped him. The idea of gambling with his heart a second time made him queasy. Look how it had turned out for Zack. The Sharps had always been unlucky in love, and based on today’s events, they always would be.
Mason glanced down. Shonda’s head was cradled in the crook of his elbow, with her cheek pressed against his chest. The ghostly lines of her despair had left tracks in the ashy residue lingering on her cheeks. Pressure built in his chest, and his pulse hammered uncontrollably, giving him the shakes.
Leftover adrenaline or terror of the drowsy female in his arms?
Panic boiled up, cooking him inside out.
Because of his cursed inability to love, changes had to be made. Shonda was right when she said they needed a clean break. It crushed him to acknowledge it, but there would be no more coming back for another hot, steamy weekend. It didn’t matter that sex with her was the best he’d ever experienced or that cuddling her made him feel more complete than he’d ever felt with anyone. If he waited any longer to walk away, his ability to end things would be compromised. And he’d be sure to drive home the point that any problem lay entirely at his door, not hers. Never hers.
Having determined the best course of action, Mason rose, hefted her up, and carried her into the bedroom. One last time, he allowed himself to experience the guilty pleasure ofundressing her, running a warm washcloth over her petal-soft skin, and tucking her into bed. And because she was sleeping, no one called him out on his sentimentality. He certainly wasn’t going to tell on himself. Hell, he could barely own it.
Dropping a quick kiss on her forehead, he shifted to leave. Her murmured protest created an unending ache.
“Mason?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you stay the night?” Her hopeful question unmanned him, and he closed his eyes against the sting of tears.
“No. I need to see how Zack is holding up.” Only a half lie, he told himself.
“Oh, okay.”
The instant understanding was another lash on his black soul. How was one woman so damn forgiving? Regardless of her humiliation at the coffee kiosk today—God, was it only today?—she sought his comfort.
“Shonda—”
“Don’t say it.” Her sigh was soul-weary. “Not tonight. Please.”
“How do you know what I was going to say?” he asked.
“It doesn’t take a genius. There’s goodbye in your voice.” A hiccup in her last word indicated her struggle to remain strong.
