Maybe that was why, instead of going to the bedroom, Lily wandered into the living room and curled up on the couch. As much as she wanted to lie down beside Mason, something in the back of her mind told her to be cautious. She wanted to believe, this time, Mason wouldn’t hurt her. But how could she ever forget what he’d done, what he’d said all those years ago? It should have been behind her. Lily had thought she’d put it behind her and moved on. But now, she realized the 16-year-old girl in her was still aching from a broken heart, worried it would happen again.
Bernie, sensing movement in the house, awoke and wandered into the living room. She propped her head on Lily’s knee, looked over at her for an invitation up onto the couch, and then found her way into Lily’s lap. The 150-pound dog stretched out over Lily, resting her head on Lily’s shoulder, determined to get some attention. Lily accommodated, scratching behind Bernie’s ears until the dog was satisfied.
“Looks like you’re not the only girl in Mason’s life anymore,” she whispered to the dog.
Bernie didn’t mind. She inched closer to Lily’s face and slapped a big, wet kiss on her cheek to prove it.
Lily giggled softly and patted Bernie’s head.
“I like you, too,” she said, keeping her voice low so she didn’t wake Mason.
It wouldn’t have mattered, though. A few minutes later, a yawning Mason emerged from the bedroom. He stopped when he saw Lily on the couch.
Lily’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He was wearing gray sweatpants that hung loosely from his waist, and nothing else. Lily’s eyes settled first on his broad shoulders and firm chest. Then her gaze wandered down toward his perfectly sculptured abs. The night before, in the dark, she hadn’t been able to fully appreciate his body or the great lengths he obviously took to maintain his form.
“I thought you’d left,” he said. He still stood at the edge of the living room. He hadn’t moved since he noticed her on the couch, sprawled out with the dog, looking like she belonged there.
Maybe he didn’t want her there, Lily realized. Maybe sex was all he was interested in, and now he expected her to go.
“Did you want me to?” she asked, worried now that she’d overstayed her welcome. Her body was tensed, her heart shielded as well as could be for the oncoming rejection.
When Mason smiled at her, she relaxed and let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
“No,” he said. “I’m glad you stayed.”
He lumbered over to the couch, pushed Bernie onto the floor, and sat down next to Lily. He pulled her into him, until her head was resting on his shoulder. Then he lightly kissed her forehead.
“I’m very glad you stayed,” he repeated.
“Me, too.” Lily wrapped her arms around him, relieved to hear those words out of his mouth. Then she settled in more comfortably, enjoying the feel of him in the early morning hours.
They sat like that for a long time. Not speaking. Just being. Eventually, Lily drifted off to sleep in his arms.
When she awoke a couple hours later, Mason was in the kitchen trying to fry eggs. Lily could tell he’d already made several unsuccessful attempts. Four partially cooked eggs had been dumped into the dog’s dish, and probably would have already been gobbled up if Bernie wasn’t outside for her morning run. The slices of bread in the toaster were burning. And the smoke detector buzzed loudly overhead.
Lily couldn’t help but laugh at him. He was trying so hard, but it seemed the harder he tried, the worse it got.
“Here,” she said, stepping between Mason and the stove. “Let me.” She took the spatula out of his hand and dumped the inedible eggs into the dog’s dish. Bernie had quite a breakfast coming this morning. Then she wiped out the pan, added some butter, and expertly cracked two eggs into the cast iron pan. She turned down the flame of the gas stove and started the toast while the eggs cooked. A couple minutes later, she flipped the eggs out onto a plate and offered it to Mason.
“I was trying to make you breakfast,” he said.
“I know.” Lily smiled tenderly. “But let this be a lesson to you. There are a lot of things you’re good at. This is not one of them.”
She turned back to the stove and finished making two more eggs for herself, then she sat down beside him in the breakfast nook.
“How did you sleep?” Mason asked.
“Last night in bed or this morning on the couch?”
“Either. Both.” His eyes looked at her questioningly, wondering if she regretted spending the night with him.
“I slept well,” she said, smiling shyly at him as her mind went back to what they’d done.
Mason smiled back, relieved. “Good,” he said as his hand reached across the table for hers. His touch was warm and gentle, reminding Lily that she had no reason to be shy around him. She’d known him most of her life, loved him most of her life.
Lily hadn’t expected it to be awkward afterwards, so she was surprised at her own uneasiness. She wondered if she should tell him it had been her first time or if he already knew. Maybe her ineptness had given her away. If it had, Mason hadn’t said anything.
Unsure how to proceed, Lily pulled her hand away and picked up her fork.
“How are the eggs?” she asked, trying to hide her nervousness. Mason, she noticed, looked perfectly comfortable.
“Delicious.” He shoved a forkful into his mouth, and then rolled his eyes as if in ecstasy. “Best eggs I’ve ever had.”
Lily laughed, in spite of herself.
“Everyone says you’re the best cook in town, but since you haven’t been working the pub, I haven’t had a chance to see if they’re telling the truth. Now I know they are.”
“Stop it,” she giggled. “They’re just eggs.”
“Why?” he asked. “It’s the truth. This breakfast is amazing.” He took a drink of orange juice and then added, “Just like you.”
Lily blushed.
She was beginning to realize that even though things were different between them, she didn’t need to be afraid of where it was leading. She only needed to trust that Mason cared for her as much as she cared for him. The way he’d cradled her in his arms that morning, the way he touched her hand, the way he looked at her now, Lily believed he was sincere. At least, she wanted to believe it.
* * *
After breakfast, Mason disappeared into the bathroom.
While Mason showered, Lily wandered the house. For years it had been a summer rental. Gus had taken good care of it, kept up on the repairs. And now it was Mason’s. That seemed weird to her. They were adults now, with responsibilities and homes.
Well, Mason had a home.
Lily still lived with her father. She’d never been able to leave him behind. She would probably live there until he died. He needed her. That’s why she’d stuck around all these years. As long as her father was alone, Lily would never stray far from home.
She could have gone off to New York City, to college and on to Broadway. That was her ultimate goal as a teenager. But it would have meant leaving her father all alone in that big house.
Now, she was glad she’d chosen to stay in Heron. She’d never really regretted staying there. It was home. The jagged peaks of the mountains, the rise and fall of the tides, were a part of her. The aroma of the fireweed and the smell of salt air mingled perfectly to remind her that New York City would never compare to the wilderness of Southeast Alaska. She’d built a life there, and the satisfaction she got from seeing those kids put on the fall production every year, from running the Pub, from being close to family – pure and simple satisfaction – couldn’t be replaced by a million Broadway shows. But now she was especially glad she’d stayed, because if she’d gone to New York, she wouldn’t have been there when Mason returned home. She might never have had a second chance with him.
A framed snapshot of Dalton sat on the edge of an end table in Mason’s living room. It was the only personal item Mason had displayed in the house, aside from a model airpl
ane hanging from the ceiling, suspended in the air by a thin piece of string. There were no photos of his parents. He still hadn’t bothered unpacking his books or anything else for that matter, except his clothes.
Lily picked up the photo and studied it. Dalton looked young, still. She guessed it was taken shortly after they moved to Anchorage. He was grinning wildly, a mischievous look in his eyes. He’d always been a bit of a daredevil, willing to take on anyone or anything. He never backed down from a bet and he was always the first to come up with some crazy idea or another.
When Mason walked out of the bathroom, dripping wet, Lily instantly forgot about the photograph. There he was, standing in the hallway, in nothing but a towel. Beads of water coursed over his skin, dripping to the floor.
At the sight of him, Lily went weak in the knees. She wanted to go to him, pull off that towel, and do unspeakable things. She started across the room toward him, but then Mason spoke. His words, the tone of his voice, stopped her.
“What’s that?” Mason asked.
Lily realized she was still holding the photograph of Dalton. She looked down, saw it in her hands, and glanced back up at Mason.
“Your brother…” she started to say.
Mason knew what it was. His body had gone rigid at the sight of the photograph in her hand.
He didn’t say anything, but Lily could tell the mere mention of Dalton affected him, and not in a good way.
“I’m going to get dressed,” he said flatly, concealing his emotions.
Lily sat the picture frame down and followed him into the bedroom. He already had a pair of underwear on and was in the process of putting on a pair of blue jeans.
“Are you okay?” she asked cautiously.
“I’m fine,” he said. But the twitch of muscle in his jaw betrayed him.
“If you’re mad I touched the photo, I’m sorry.”
Mason shook his head. “No. It’s fine,” he said, trying to explain. “I just have a hard time seeing his face. I shouldn’t have put his picture out, not yet anyway.”
He pulled on a white undershirt and then grabbed a button-up shirt from a hangar. He slid it over his shoulders and started fastening the buttons.
Lily moved toward him, sensing that he needed to talk it through, whether he wanted to or not.
“How did Dalton end up the way he did?” Lily didn’t want to say the word. Junkie. That’s what he’d become. It sounded so awful.
“I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Maybe you should,” Lily pressed. “It will probably help.”
Mason’s shoulders sagged and he dropped his head. She wasn’t going to let up, and maybe that was a good thing. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about Dalton. The little he told her the other day, at the dock, was more than he’d confessed to anyone. But he needed to get it out. The weight of it was crushing him.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. Lily went to him, sat down a few inches away, and waited. She knew the words would come, eventually. It just took time for Mason to sort through his thoughts.
Finally, he spoke.
“Dalton wasn’t like me. You know how Mom and Pop had such unbelievably high expectations for us. I was the one who tried to please them. I did everything they asked. Dalton was the complete opposite. He fought them tooth and nail.”
Lily knew that well enough. Even as kids, Dalton had a defiant streak a mile wide. He did things his way, even if he was a bit reckless.
“Do you think that’s why he turned to drugs?”
Mason shook his head. He’d asked himself that same question a thousand times. He didn’t have the full answer, but he had an idea.
“When it was all four of us at home, their attention was focused so much on me, because I was the older one. I think when I left for the Academy, their attention shifted to Dalton. He couldn’t handle it, the two of them constantly fighting him over what career path he was going to follow. He just wanted to be himself, you know? He was unique. He couldn’t conform to their expectations.”
Mason paused for a moment, remembering Dalton as a teenager. He was so bold. Adventurous. Fearless. His parents took all that away from him, stripped him of everything that made him Dalton.
“Without me there, he rebelled even more. Fell in with the wrong crowd, I guess.”
“So you blame yourself.”
“Yeah.” He was frustrated now and it was beginning to show. “Of course I blame myself. It’s my fault. I wasn’t there to keep him out of trouble. And then when I got back, when I had a chance to help him get back on his feet, I didn’t do anything.”
Lily touched his arm, then. She made him look her in the eye.
“No, Mason. It’s not your fault.”
Mason chortled angrily. “You don’t understand. I let him die. I was there that day and I just walked away. I could have done something. I could have saved him. But I didn’t. He’s dead because I didn’t care enough to help him. I just didn’t care.”
“That’s not true. It’s obvious that you cared for him. You loved him.”
“Not enough.”
He shook his head, wishing he could find a way to forgive himself. But that wasn’t going to happen, not as long as his parents kept reminding him of the role he’d played in his brother’s death. It wasn’t enough that Mason blamed himself. His parents thought it was his fault, too. They’d told him as much before Dalton’s funeral. And after Dalton was buried, Mason’s mom couldn’t bear to look at him. The two people he’d spent his entire life trying to please had turned their backs on him.
“You don’t know how cold they can be. How calculating.” He was talking about his parents now, remembering how effortlessly they’d been able to control him, how easily he had given in. “I should have known not to leave him there with them.”
Mason was nearly sobbing now. Lily pulled him toward her. He buried his face in her shoulder. It was the only thing he could do. He was ashamed to look at her because he’d admitted his guilt, but even more ashamed at the fact that he was crying like a child. He felt exposed, vulnerable.
“It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “It’s not your fault.” She kept repeating those words until Mason’s tears dried up, until he started to believe them. The emotion was still raw, but all of the pain, all of the anguish, slowly began to melt away.
“You don’t have to hide anything from me,” she said, stroking his hair. She felt the need to reassure him. “And you don’t have to be embarrassed. I love you, no matter what.”
She said the words before she even thought it through. But it was true. She loved him. She couldn’t deny it. She’d always loved him and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it.
Mason looked up and saw the look in her eyes. It was a bit of fear mixed with boldness. She was afraid he didn’t feel the same way, and yet determined not to let it matter.
“I love…” he hesitated, “your spirit.” Why was it so hard for him to admit his feelings for her? Why couldn’t he say the words? He definitely felt it. “You’re so strong. I wish I could be like that,” he added lamely.
Inwardly, Mason cursed himself for not saying what he really felt. He loved her. He’d never stopped loving her. She was what brought him back to Heron, and she was what was bringing him back to life. With Lily, Mason was finally learning to move on, to forgive himself, to become the man he was meant to be.
Lily smiled, hiding her disappointment. Mason didn’t feel the same way, even after the night they spent together. Maybe she was just a way for him to pass the time. A distraction.
She stood up, then, and moved away from the bed. She needed to put some distance between them, give herself a chance to push the disappointment aside.
“You are strong,” she said, still trying to reassure him. “Stronger than you realize.”
As she spoke, Lily reached down and grabbed her boots. She sat down in the edge of the bed and slipped them on.
“Where did you set the scripts yesterday?” she asked, looking around
the room.
“You’re leaving already?” he asked, surprised.
“Yeah. I have a lot to do today.”
She sounded distracted, Mason noticed, as she hastily grabbed her things.
“Thanks for last night. It was fun.” That sounded casual, right? She hoped so. The last thing she wanted was for Mason to realize that it had actually meant something to her, especially when it obviously meant nothing to him.
Before Mason knew it, Lily was at the door. With a fake smile on her face to convince him everything was fine, she quickly pecked him on the cheek.
“I’ll call you,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. She wanted to seem in control of the situation, in control of her emotions. “Maybe we can do this again.”
She didn’t wait around to find out if he wanted to.
“Lily…” He wanted to ask her to stay, to spend the day with him. Maybe spend her life with him. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask.
Besides, she was already gone.
* * *
A storm system was moving in. The blue skies of the morning were quickly disappearing behind gray clouds. It matched her frame of mind perfectly. The day had started out rosy and bright, and now the outlook was bleak. Dismal.
Hurrying through town, Lily wasn’t sure where she was going. It was 10 o’clock on a Wednesday morning. School was still in session, so she couldn’t very well go work on the set. There was still work to be done on the costumes, but sewing was the last thing she was in the mood for. Besides, she wouldn’t have been able to focus on anything even remotely related to the fall production. Her mind was on Mason.
Disappointment clouded her thoughts. She knew she didn’t want to stop seeing him. She couldn’t imagine going back to a life without him. But she needed time alone, to think.
Sky High (Alaskan Frontier Romance Book 2) Page 12
