“Me too,” he says, reaching up and scratching at his hair, before letting his gaze fall open to me again.

“Thanks for talking to my dad—about Adam,” my heart starts to speed up remembering my father’s reaction. My dad trusted Adam, treated him like his own son when we got married. He used to tell me how happy he was I was marrying a good man like Adam Price. I think that’s what gets at my dad the most—the guilt. I don’t blame him. I was just as enamored. Adam was the valedictorian of our high school, and we both went to college together. My dad didn’t even blink when we said we were going to live together—instead, thrilled to see the ring on my finger. It was always his fear—that his little girl wouldn’t have anyone to take care of her. And when we got pregnant early, my dad didn’t even lecture—he just beamed, over-the-moon to be a grandfather. He was Adam’s greatest fan, all the way up until the day Adam walked away. And then…Adam gained the most threatening enemy in the world.

“He wanted to go find him, but I told him he left,” Mason says, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Then I realize what Mason said.

“How do you know he left?” I say, scooting away to look at him completely. I know before he says anything—it’s written on his face, and it comes out with the heavy breath he exhales. I suppose deep down I maybe knew all along, but it still feels like a surprise.

“That’s where I was this morning. I couldn’t let him get away with it. I know, it wasn’t my place, but I’m sorry, Avery. I just…I couldn’t,” he says, his eyes falling to mine, pleading with me to understand. He’s so afraid I’m going to be angry, but instead, Mason may have just completely crawled inside my heart.

“My hand feels better,” I say softly, watching as the line of his mouth inches slowly into a smile.

“Come here,” he says, laying his arm flat for me to lie on, his other above his head, waiting to embrace me. I keep my eyes on his as I move my body closer, careful of my hand, and just careful in general.

His skin is warm against my face. I’m lying right along the tiger’s tail on his tattoo, and I let my face fall so I can look at it closely, tracing the lines with the tips of my fingers. Mason slides his hand up my arm to my wrist, careful not to squeeze against my bandage, and brings my fingers to his lips, kissing them softly.

“I’m so sorry, Avery,” he says, moving his head against mine. “I’m sorry you hurt yourself, and I’m sorry Adam is such a prick. And I’m sooooo sorry if I was ever mean to you. I didn’t know how much you meant to me,” his words literally knock the breath from my body, and I slide myself closer into his arms, pressing my lips to his with all of my might.

“Don’t,” I say, suddenly not wanting to hear him apologize…ever. For years, all I wanted was to see Mason Street grovel, to feel sorry, and to feel pain. And now all I want to do is love him.

I love him.

Chapter 15: Fitting In

Mason

Claire was on board with my plan. I had a feeling she would be. I was surprised she didn’t try to pry for details about Avery and me, but I guess chicks only really do that to each other.

I have almost everything figured out—I thought a Thursday night date would work better for her than a weekend. Max will be covered, and it’s easier to get Avery out of work. I haven’t talked to Ray again—not since I told him I took care of Adam.

Ben’s pissed that I’m late. He keeps texting me, wanting to know when I’ll make it to rehearsals. He’s like a jealous girlfriend when my time is focused anywhere other than on him.

I figure I’m already on his shit list, so what’s a few more minutes. I can see there are kids on the playground at Max’s school, and I just feel this pull—like I need to check on him. I cruise by at about five miles per hour, rounding the corner slowly. I’m sure I look like a predator, and I notice at least one of the teachers following my car with her eyes.

I’d speed up and keep driving, except I don’t see Max. Maybe it’s not his grade or something, but I swear these kids look like Max’s age. My chest starts to constrict. My head starts to go to dark places—like Max ran away and nobody noticed, or he’s in trouble…or he’s being pinned down in a bathroom by some ass**le kid. I was that ass**le kid.

I’m in the parking lot suddenly, like my steering wheel went on autopilot, and seconds later I’m jogging through the lot to the playground gate. I have to find him, I have to find him.

“Can I help you?” an older woman says, clearly sent to stop me from entering.