Make Me Believe: Unbelievable, Book 3 (10 page)

She snorted, poking his ribs. “You still owe me cookies.”

He chuckled and slapped a hand over hers. “Coming right up.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. Sugar coma, here I come.” As if to emphasize the point, she yawned. The day had taken its toll, and she was exhausted.

The smile slid off his face, and his expression fell into serious lines. “Before it gets too late and this becomes an awkward conversation, I want to talk about sleeping arrangements.”

“Okay.” She tilted her head, wondering what had caused the sudden shift in mood. “You’re going to put me in the spare bedroom?”

He winced. “Only if you really want to. I’d rather have you in my bed, even if we don’t have sex.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “I don’t think I’m up for sex.”

“That’s fine.” He rose and snagged her bag from where she’d set it on the island, heading down the hall with it. “I’ll put this on my dresser then. Back in a sec.”

Instead of waiting, she followed him. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to see his bedroom. Curiosity got the better of her. A king sized bed dominated one wall, covered in a navy blue bedspread. A television sat on a small table across from the bed, a long dresser sat in the center of another wall and a sliding glass door that opened onto the back patio took up most of the final wall.

He almost stood at attention while he waited for her to finish inspecting his space. “Well?”

She made a big show of looking around with a confused expression. It was too much fun to yank his chain. “There are no mirrors on the ceiling, no stripper pole. Not even a disco ball. This is really disappointing. What kind of hardcore bachelor are you?”

He chuckled and relaxed. “I have a surround sound system throughout the whole house and two big screen plasma TVs.”

“To watch porn?”

“Sure, if you want to.” He shrugged, his eyes glinting with laughter. “I usually go for ball games, but I’m open.”

“Ha.” She walked forward and pushed her hand against the mattress to test it. “No waterbed?”

He rubbed a finger across the bridge of his nose. “My reputation has been blown out of proportion, apparently.”

“I like it. I like your whole house. It’s nice.” She probably shouldn’t admit it, but since she couldn’t give him what he really wanted, it seemed such a petty thing to hold back.

Another yawn threatened to crack her jaw, and he rummaged through her bag until he came up with her nightgown. It was probably the least sexy thing she owned, and she’d brought it on purpose to remind herself that intercourse was not on the agenda for their little sleepover. He handed it to her and pointed to an open door. “The bathroom is through there if you want to use it.”

That he didn’t even push her to change in front of him, made no moves toward her, almost broke her. How he knew her well enough to know when to push and when to back off, she didn’t know. Tonight she needed comfort, and that was exactly what he was offering her. No strings attached.

It was the sweetest thing any man had ever done for her.

When they curled together in bed, an Oregon State game playing on the TV, she laid her cheek on his chest and closed her eyes to savor the moment. It was the last time she’d ever sleep in his arms. She couldn’t allow it to happen again. What he’d said in the salon kept playing back in her mind on a loop. If she let this continue, it was only going to hurt him. She’d meant what she’d said—she wasn’t the marrying kind. She couldn’t do a serious relationship again. She wished she could, but some wounds never healed. Some fears could never be overcome. If she gave in to what he wanted, one way or another, he would leave her.

And unlike all the other people who’d gone before him, his leaving would shatter her into a million unrecognizable pieces. Because she loved him. She’d loved every single minute with him, and she
wanted
to give him everything. If she did so, and the inevitable end came, she would never, ever recover.

Those fairy tale dreams starring him as her Prince Charming disintegrated, and she finally stopped wishing they could come true. Even if he was a knight in shining armor, she was nobody’s princess. It was unfair to them both to keep pretending otherwise.

Chapter Six

It had been four days since she’d left his house. The stiff, painful look on his face when she’d gone still haunted her. Even worse was the empathy that shone in his gaze. He’d kissed her forehead and let her go. He hadn’t pushed, hadn’t demanded.

It had almost broken her. Almost.

Only the knowledge that it would hurt so much worse in the long run if she stayed had kept her feet moving and had kept her away for days. Since then it had felt like she was just going through the motions. She opened the shop, she worked, she occasionally met Aubrey for coffee, who worried and pointed out she looked pale. Like that helped.

She made sure she was the first one in the salon and the last one out every day, and today was no exception. It was easier than lying in a bed that she’d never share with Mason again.

“Hey, is Mason okay?” Jerry rolled in for the day, yawning and stretching, a smile on his face as if he’d had a long, gratifying night.

Now, there was a mental image she didn’t need. And his obvious satisfaction did nothing to lighten her mood, especially since he’d been one of the people to push her toward Mason in the first place. She managed to keep the irritation out of her voice, barely. “How should I know? I haven’t seen him in a couple of days.”

His face fell into distressed lines. “But what about the accident? I thought since you were here that meant he was doing better.”

The blood froze in her veins. “What do you mean? What accident?”

They stared at each other for a moment, an eternity.

“Jerry,
what accident?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. His gaze went behind her and the bell over the door jingled. “Delacroix.”

She spun, expecting to see Mason, but instead Price stood there. His face was drawn and pale, his emerald eyes so like Mason’s. She swayed, her knees went weak and all the blood fled her face. What hit her the most wasn’t that Price reminded her of Mason, it was that she’d never seen an emotion like that on his normally world-weary and cynical expression.

He looked scared.

“Morning, Celia.”

Celia wiped her cold, clammy palms on her pants. “Jerry said there’s been an accident with Mason. What happened?”

“How did he know—” Price shook his head. “Never mind. Can I speak to you privately for a moment?”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. There was no other way to describe the hollowed, gut twisting downward rush of dread. She knew this feeling, this moment of utter terror and helplessness. She’d felt this the day her aunt called to let her know she was dying.

“Um. Sure. The supply room in the back?”

“Sounds good.” He nodded toward the back of the shop.

Her legs shook so badly, she didn’t know how they stayed under her for the short walk. Price shut the door behind them, and stood there silent for a long, unbearable moment. She couldn’t take it, and her worst fear burst out. “Just tell me…is he dead?”

“No.” But the uncertainty in his voice said more about Mason’s condition that anything else could have. “He was at a house fire and part of the building collapsed on him. His arm is messed up, and he suffered from smoke inhalation before they got him out.”

“How bad?” She reached out, latching onto his wrist.

“They aren’t sure yet. They’re running some tests.” He swallowed, his voice growing hoarse. “He looked pretty fucking pale and out of it when I saw him.”

Her hand tightened on his arm. “Thank you for telling me.”

“I’m here to take you to him. He’d want you there.”

She wanted to argue that, say she didn’t mean enough to him for him to need her, but she didn’t. The truth was, she wanted to be there. She didn’t want to stay here and pretend everything was okay while she slowly went out of her mind with worry. She wanted to be there the
second
they had news.

“Let me get my purse.” Since Jerry had foisted her off onto Mason so many times, she would let him deal with rescheduling her clients for the day.

It served him right.

 
“Mason?” The barest whisper slipped past her raw throat. It felt as though she had been screaming, but she’d swear she’d kept the pain inside.

He looked pale, with mottled bruises marring his skin. His arm was swathed in bandages, and she could see blood had seeped through the white cloth. This hospital was just as she remembered from Grace’s time here. Cold, ugly green tile on the floor. Harsh fluorescent lights and an antiseptic smell that stung her nose. She wrapped her arms around her waist, trying to hold herself together. If she relaxed for even a second, she feared she might crumble.

One of his eyes opened, the other was so bruised it was swollen shut. “Hey, honey.”

His voice was weak and raspy, but he tried to smile at her, and it was all she could do not to sob.

“Hey.” The word cracked in the middle, and she held herself tighter.

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

She swallowed. “You’ve had time for that?”

“Yep.” He held out his good hand, and she moved forward to take it.

She tried not to hold on too tight, didn’t want to hurt him. “Oh.”

Swiping his tongue over cracked lips, he held her gaze. His green eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. “This had to scare you pretty bad. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t have any right to…” She shook her head. “I left you.”

Saying those words were a blow to the chest. Without meaning to, she had done to him exactly what she hadn’t wanted him to do to her. Agony twisted inside her, ripping at all the emotions she’d been suppressing since she’d met him…since her mother had died. It had been so long, she didn’t even know who she’d be without it.

His chuckle was a painful thing to hear, and he squeezed her fingers. “I understood why. I knew you’d come back.”

“How could you know that?” She hadn’t even known it herself. Until she’d seen him again, she’d thought she could walk away clean. That eventually the pain would fade the way it had with Grace and her mother. Someday, she’d be okay again. Someday, she wouldn’t wake up with the loss fresh in her mind. The difference was, Mason hadn’t died. Mason was still alive and right in front of her, if she just had the courage to reach out and take what he’d offered freely, and that she’d rejected, wholly and harshly.

He’d been right. She was scared. Terrified to move forward after her divorces, so certain that every man would give her more of the same. Afraid of the future, so she’d ignored the possibility of a future with any man who might have been interested. Only Mason hadn’t given up after she’d refused to give in.

No wonder she loved him. He’d believed in her even when she was too scared to believe in herself.

“How could I know? Because I’ve been there. I told you. This wasn’t easy for me either. But with something this good? You have to face your fears.” The corner of his mouth quirked in a grin. “I knew you would.”

“You did?” Hot moisture welled in her eyes.

“Yeah.” He swallowed hard, his smile falling away. “I understand if my job makes things…harder for you. Today had to bring back some of what you went through with your aunt and mom.”

“It did.” She nodded. She couldn’t lie to him, especially considering that one of his fiancées had run from their relationship because of the kind of thing that had happened today. His job was dangerous. It came with risks. But she already knew that it wouldn’t hurt any less for him to die when they weren’t together—today had demonstrated the stark truth of that. Love was the thing that changed the equation, not just being together in a relationship. “But this isn’t like them. This reminded me that I was letting myself lose you
before
you’d died. They left me alone, but not by choice.
I
left you alone willingly. That’s worse.”

Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her. “This could happen again, you know.”

“And you could die. I’m aware of that. I could get run over crossing the street too.” She shrugged, blinking back the tears. “I told you I like to enjoy the moment, so…maybe we can keep doing that. Together.”

It was the scariest thing she’d ever said, admitting that she wanted to plan some kind of future with him. Even something as small as that, she’d sworn she’d never do again, but today had shown her that she couldn’t walk away.

The offer fell far short of what he probably wanted from her, and her insides quaked, waiting for him to react, to say something, to give her some kind of response.

“I love you.”

The statement was bald, as forceful and straightforward as the man himself. His green gaze was open, told her how sincere he was. He loved her. Period. End of story. She burst in tears, burying her face in her free hand as sobs wracked her. It was too much. It was everything. It was perfect, and she didn’t know how to deal with something so good being given to her.

He kissed her fingers again, then her palm and the inside of her wrist. Pulling her down, he pressed her forehead to his. He waited until her breathing calmed and the tears slowed. “You said I deserved someone who could give me what I want.”

“Yes.” Her voice was waterlogged, so she nodded for emphasis.

His lips brushed hers, his hand tangling in her hair. “What I want is you, and you’re the only one who can give me that.”

“I love you, Mason.”

A smile curved his mouth. She could feel it against her lips. His gaze lit with something beyond joy. “I know.”

“You
know?”
She pulled back a bit, her eyebrows arching.

He chortled, and it quickly turned to a coughing fit. “Oh, damn. Don’t make me laugh.” He stopped hacking after a minute and sighed. “I knew you loved me, sweetheart, I just didn’t know if you’d ever admit it.”

“Well, I did.” She pursed her lips and made a face at him.

Curling his hand around her jaw, he stroked his thumb over her lower lip. “I don’t need you to believe in marriage or happily-ever-afters or any of that other fairy tale bullshit that tells you what you’re supposed to want. I just need you to believe in me, believe that I’ll stick it out with you no matter what, and I’ll never leave you of my own free will. Start there, and I think we’ll be doing pretty good.”