by Megan Green
“Hmph,” he says, crossing his arms and pouting out his lower lip.
Hannah giggles and crawls over into his lap. “It’s okay, Daddy. You’re still my favorite.”
This causes a giant smile to spread across Mason’s face, and he lifts a finger to tap Hannah on the nose. “Thanks, Hannah Banana. You’re my favorite, too.”
If I thought my heart melted at the dog resting on my lap, it’s nothing compared to the pile of goo I collapse into at the sight of Mason and his daughter. Feather boa and all.
I’ve never really thought much about children, my career and fast-paced New York life taking priority over everything. And considering I haven’t exactly had any prospects since moving back to Montana, the idea hasn’t really entered my mind lately.
But there’s something inherently sexy about seeing a man—especially a man like Mason—with his daughter. There’s nothing small or dainty about Mason Cooper. At over six feet tall, he’s solid muscle, his thick arms straining against the sleeves of his plaid button-up shirt. His trim beard only adds to that whole sexy-lumberjack thing he’s got going on.
But here he is, wearing a ridiculous costume that most men would stick up their noses at, just to make his little girl smile.
It’s enough to make my ovaries tingle.
What the hell is happening to me? I came here tonight to return a game, and here I am, sitting in their living room and thinking about things like children and ovaries.
Luckily, Hannah chooses that moment to climb off Mason’s lap, pulling me from my thoughts. She grabs the little teapot from the center of the table, running around to my side.
“Tell me when,” she says and begins to pour the imaginary liquid into my cup.
9
Mason
“And please bless Grandma and Grandpa. And Uncle Reese. And please bless Hope and help her to keep getting better. And bless Dr. Maddy. Oh, and please bless Daddy and remind him that I want a new bike for my birthday,” Hannah ends, opening one of her eyes and peeking up at me.
I laugh, grabbing her around the waist and tossing her onto the bed. Her face flushes as she chuckles, and I push myself up onto the bed beside her, my fingers launching into a tickle attack.
“That’s not how prayers are supposed to go, Hannah Banana,” I chide as I continue my onslaught on her ribs, my own laughter mixing in with her gleeful giggles.
I’m not exactly a religious man, but after Hannah was born, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to raise her with at least a little bit of God in her life. You know … just in case. Thus, our nightly prayer routine was started.
“But, Daddy,” she squeals, “I really, really, really want a new bike.”
“As you’ve told me at least a hundred times a day for the last week.” I poke her ribs a few more times before stopping, knowing if I get her too riled up, she’ll never go to sleep.
“My birthday is only eight days away, Daddy!”
I look at my watch, making a show of it. “Wait a minute, are you sure? I could have sworn your birthday was in July last year.”
“Daddy,” she whines, drawing out the word for a solid five seconds. “It’s May 3!”
I cock my head to the side, giving her a look out of the corner of my eye. When Hope comes trotting into the room, I glance at her, patting the bed beside Hannah. She leaps up, and I scratch underneath her collar. “What do you think, Hope? Do you think it’s Hannah’s birthday next weekend?”
Hope sprawls out on her side, her tongue hanging out onto the bed as she closes her eyes and absorbs every ounce of my affection. I can’t help but laugh at the look of pure contentment on her face.
“She doesn’t know when my birthday is. And dogs can’t talk. Silly Daddy.”
I slap my palm against my forehead. “Oh, you’re right. What was I thinking?”
She giggles as she climbs under her covers, holding the blankets up for Hope to snuggle in beside her. Once they’re both situated, I tuck the sheets in tight around them, bending forward to give Hannah a kiss on the forehead.
“Night, Nana. Love you to the moon.”
“Love you, too, Daddy,” she says as she burrows down deeper under the covers.
I turn, heading back toward the door, my hand on the light switch when she calls for me, “Daddy?”
I blow out a breath. Never fails. Just before I turn out the light, she suddenly needs something else.
“You don’t need any more water, Hannah.”
She pushes up slightly, coming up onto her elbows. “I’m not thirsty.”
“You just used the bathroom,” I remind her.
She shakes her head. “I don’t need to go potty.”
I drop my head to my chest, knowing that my bed is going to have to wait another few minutes because this little girl will not go to sleep until she says whatever it is she feels she needs to say.
“What is it, Nana?” I ask, walking back over to her bedside. I smooth back her hair, breathing a sigh of relief when she lies back down instead of sitting up even further.
“I like Dr. Maddy,” she says matter-of-factly.
An unexpected chuckle escapes my chest. “Oh, you do, do you?”
She nods sleepily against her pillow. “She’s nice.”
I think back to the few hours we spent with Maddy this evening. How the instant she stepped foot inside my townhouse, I could practically feel the ice that ran through her veins melting toward me. She’s been getting better and better every time I’ve seen her, the chilly demeanor I was met with that first day slowly warming up with every passing day.
But tonight …
Tonight was the first time it actually felt like old times.
She laughed easily, joining right into our little impromptu tea party without even missing a beat. When Hannah dug into her toy chest to find Maddy her own costume to wear, she donned it with grace and amusement instead of the protest I’d expected.
Afterward, she lay in Hannah’s star cave with her, giggling as Hannah pointed out all the different “consternations” I’d set up. It was really just an old moving box with a shit-ton of Christmas lights stuck in through the top in various patterns and shapes, but Hannah thought it was the neatest thing in the world, and Maddy humored her for nearly an hour, the two of them lying shoulder to shoulder, their heads bent together as they stared up at the “stars.”
As I watched from the doorway, only able to see their legs sticking out from the end of the box and hear their muffled voices as they spoke, I felt the last little bit of resentment I’d been holding on to at Maddy’s sudden disappearance from my life evaporate. Like the clearing of a heavy fog, my heart lifted, allowing me to see for the first time in what felt like forever.
There was something different about Maddy Woods. Something different about the way I felt when I was around her. I wasn’t ready to put a name to it just yet. But there was one thing I was certain of.
My life had definitely gotten a hell of a lot more complicated.
I sit down on the edge of Hannah’s bed. “She is nice, isn’t she?”
She nods again, this time even more slowly, clearly on the edge of being pulled under. Her eyes flutter open and shut a few times, and I know it’s only a matter of seconds before she’s out cold.
“What else do you like about Dr. Maddy?” I ask, hoping to squeeze a little more info out of her before sleep overtakes her.
“She’s pretty,” she says with a yawn. “And she likes dogs. And all kinds of animals. She likes helping them.”
I nod my head, a soft smile pulling at my lips. “Yeah, Dr. Maddy has always had a knack for helping animals.”
“Mostly,” Hannah says, her voice heavy as her eyes drift shut for good this time, “I like the way she makes you smile.”
Her breaths deepen as soon as the last word is out, her head drifting to the side as she falls deeper into her slumber. It takes everything in me not to shake her awake, to ask her more about what she means.
Hannah’s seen me smile
millions of times in her short life. Even on days when the last thing I feel like doing is smiling, the days when work or bills or just freaking breathing seem like too much, I always plaster on a happy face as soon as Hannah is near, never letting on that life is anything but perfect.
So, the fact that she’s somehow noticed a difference in my smile since Maddy walked back into my life both troubles and delights me. Troubles me because that means maybe I haven’t done as good of a job as I thought in convincing Hannah that I am perfectly happy with the way our lives are. And delights me because …
Well, because being around Maddy does make me smile.
Tonight was the first time Hannah has ever seen me around a woman who isn’t family, outside of a professional setting, in her entire life. The few dates I allowed Reese to talk me into over the years always ended long before the stage of introducing them to Hannah was a consideration. There’s never been an instance of the two of us spending an evening with an adult female—who isn’t my mother—in all of her four years. I told myself I was doing it to protect her. To keep her from the heartbreak of another woman walking out of her life, just as Stephanie had done when she was only weeks old.
But really, I’ve been trying to protect myself. I resent Stephanie for the pain she inflicted on our little family. I resent her for depriving Hannah of the mother she needs and deserves. But mostly, I resent her for breaking my heart.
I don’t want to go through that again. Don’t want to give another woman the chance to break me the way Stephanie did. If I hadn’t had Hannah there to hold me together, to force me to get up every day and continue living my life, I don’t know that I would’ve survived those first few months. At least, not as the man I am now.
I tell myself it’s easier this way. That Hannah is the only woman I need in my life. That after she grows up and leaves for college, well, maybe then I’ll consider trying out the whole dating thing again.
But then Madeline Woods stormed back into my life, reigniting a desire inside me I’d long since buried and turning all the plans I’d made on their heads.
I tried to shrug it off as surprise at seeing her again. I told myself it was simply my body’s physical reaction to an attractive woman. But tonight only showed those lies for what they were.
There is something happening between Madeline Woods and me. Something, if I’m honest with myself, that could have happened all those years ago.
Only she disappeared without a trace, and I never heard from her again. Not in more than ten years.
Can I trust her not to do it again? Can I allow myself to open up my heart, knowing that she destroyed it once before?
A simple look at my daughter’s smiling face as she dreams, the dog Maddy saved nestled into her side, is the only answer I need.
I stand, crossing Hannah’s room and slowly pulling the door shut behind me.
Returning to the living room, I grab my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I find Maddy’s name. She gave me her personal number after she released Hope into our care, just in case anything happened after hours. This isn’t exactly the reason she told me to use it, but it feels like an urgent matter to me.
Clicking her name, I open a new text message.
Me: Hey, it’s Mason. Can we talk?
The Read receipt pops up almost immediately along with the three bouncing dots that indicate she’s typing a response. I watch as those dots dance and stop, over and over again, for nearly five minutes.
Then, they stop for good.
No message is sent.
And I’m left wondering what was left unsaid.
10
Maddy
I’m a coward.
It’s as simple as that. After Mason’s text message on Saturday evening, I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, thinking about all the different reasons he could possibly have for wanting to talk. A million different scenarios went through my head, and I didn’t get a wink of sleep the entire night.
Yet Sunday morning dawned, and I still didn’t have the nerve to text him back. If I texted him back, agreed to speak with him, then that would make it all real.
The things I’m feeling. The smiles he gives me that makes me think he might be feeling them, too.
Or worse.
Him wanting to talk to me to tell me to back off, that I’ve been embedding myself too deeply in his and Hannah’s lives and I’m not welcome.
I’m not sure my heart could withstand either scenario at this point.
I’m not ready to date again—not so soon after ending my engagement with Jesse. And especially not with Mason Cooper.
Things between us have gotten too real, too fast. Just like they did in high school. We went from being practically strangers to spending as much time as we possibly could together in a matter of weeks back then. And if Saturday night is any indication, it is proving all too easy to fall back into old habits.
There is something about Mason. He just … pulls me in. It’s like he has some sort of magnetic hold over me, his nearness ending my ability to think coherently.
It has just always been so easy with Mason. Our friendship was effortless, arguments between us always ending in a fit of giggles instead of hurtful words or actions. We clicked, fitting into each other’s lives like missing pieces of a five-thousand-piece puzzle, whole for the first time since finding one another.
I wasn’t aware of it until recently, but after I’d left Harts Creek all those years ago, a piece of my inner puzzle had been missing, a small part of me left behind. Seeing Mason again has filled that hole, and for the first time in a very long time, I feel complete.
Which is a problem. Because Mason Cooper can never be mine.
Sooner or later, he’ll realize that whatever spark that might be burning between us is only temporary. And he’ll break my heart all over again.
No, it is better to extinguish the flame before it gets enough oxygen to turn into an inferno.
Which is why I chose to ignore his text all day Sunday as well.
Now, here it is, Monday morning, and I know it’s only a matter of time before he and Hannah show up for Hope’s daily blood count. I’m just hoping that he won’t bring up whatever it is he wants to talk about—or my blatant ignoring of his text message—in front of his daughter. It’s the only hope I have to hold on to.
Cami and Morgan walk in together, greeting me with happy smiles and a grande latte from Starbucks. I gratefully take it, knocking back that first sip of deliciousness with a blissful sigh.
“You have no idea how much I needed this today,” I say, taking another sip and relishing the warmth as it slides down my throat. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”
Or the night before that, I tack on silently.
Morgan beams at me before excusing herself to head up and ready the front desk for opening. Cami slides up beside me, her own coffee in her hand as she nudges me with her elbow.
“So, how’d it go?” she asks, her voice way too amused for this early in the morning.
“How’d what go?”
She dramatically rolls her eyes. “You know exactly what. Did you succeed in your perilous quest of leaving Hannah’s toy on the porch without getting caught?”
I raise a brow. “You’re such a nerd.”
She shrugs. “I was on a Game of Thrones kick this weekend. But don’t try to deflect. Did you see him?”
I take another sip of my coffee, hoping this will be easier if I can’t talk. Once my mouth is full to bursting, I nod.
“I knew it. I knew there was no way you were going to leave the game and run.”
I swallow hard, wincing as the scorching liquid burns all the way down. “It’s not like that. Hannah saw me through the window. It’s not like I could run away after that.”
“So, you gave her the toy and then went on your merry way?”
My nose scrunches. “Well, not exactly.”
She grabs my hands and pulls me over to the break room sofa. “Tell me eve
rything.”
So, I do. I suck in a deep breath, and I launch into the details of my evening at the Cooper household.
By the time I’m done, Cami is grinning at me, her smile so wide that I’m pretty sure I could see her tonsils if she opened her mouth a little more. I drop my face into my hands.
“You like him,” she croons, nudging my side with her elbow again.
“I do,” I say from behind my hands. “And that’s the problem.”
“Pssh,” Cami says, pulling on my wrists so that I’m forced to drop my hands. “I see no problem here. It’s been obvious since pretty much day one that he’s into you. You’re into him. He’s hot. You’re hot. See? Zero problems.”
I slump back against the sofa cushions. “You don’t get it, Cami. Remember that first night they were here? I told you we had history.”
Her eyes roll back as she tries to remember that night. “Kind of. You went to high school together or something, right?”
I only nod.
Cami waves her hand. “So what? High school was eleventy billion years ago. We were all idiots back then.”
Oh, how I wish it were that simple.
“Mason and I were friends. Best friends.”
Cami’s face screws up in confusion. “Wait, didn’t you tell me that night that you weren’t friends?”
“We weren’t always friends,” I explain, not really wanting to relive the memories of my past, but really wanting Cami’s advice. And in order to get that, she needs to know the whole story. “Mason and I ran in different crowds. Meaning, he had a crowd. I was always a bit of a loner back then. Didn’t really fit in anywhere, so I preferred to keep to myself.”
Cami nods, as if she already guessed that about me. “Hate to break it to you, boss lady, but you’re still sort of a loner. I mean, I’ve been trying to convince you to come out with me since you got here and have yet to succeed,” she adds with a wink.
I give her a soft laugh. “Yeah, well, old habits die hard. And after all the socializing I was forced to do in New York, my battery needed recharging. Someday, my introvert charge will be full, and I’ll be able to rejoin society.”
