Reckless (The Mason Family Series Book 3)

by Adriana Locke

  Rosie rolls onto her side. She curls up against me and whispers incoherently.

  “Where’s Boone?” she asked a million times tonight. “Boone!”

  I didn’t have it in me to tell her he wasn’t coming home. I told her he was still at work and tried to distract her with finger paints and playing school. And a movie. And Play-Doh.

  At least she was happy for a while.

  I, on the other hand, am miserable.

  Tears are hot against my cheek as I lay in his bed, in his house, and miss him.

  He’s a good man. He’s everything I envisioned when I had the audacity to dream about meeting a guy who would look at me like I was the most interesting woman in the world.

  Like he looked at me.

  It’s just so hard to believe that it could work out between us. That we could end up being a family.

  I squeeze my eyes shut.

  It’s better off this way anyway. Even if by some miracle we drift back together somehow, he’ll have had some time to evaluate if he’s in this for the long haul or not.

  He should have that chance. He couldn’t have that with us being here.

  I blow out a shaky breath.

  “I’m trying so hard, Nettie,” I whisper as I pull Rosie in closer. “We went through a lot of crap with Mom and Pete. I know you hated how Mom chose Pete over us every time. It never changed. But I’ll always choose your little girl. I’ll always put her first.”

  My stomach twists, and I try to ignore it. I try to force the unpleasantness out of my mind. The niggle has been there for hours now, ever since we laid down for the evening. It refuses to be still.

  “That’s exactly what this is. You think I’m going to go all Shawn or whatever the fuck’s name was that made you feel unworthy. So you don’t just think—you expect that to happen with me.”

  “You’re not wrong,” I say softly.

  I did expect this to go wrong. Maybe by expecting it, it encouraged the universe to make it happen.

  What if I hadn’t answered the door? What if Danny hadn’t been early? What if I misinterpreted why he was coming over?

  The tiniest stroke of hope touches my heart. It feels like a feather, brushing gently against the raw edges of my wounds.

  It might’ve been worse. Awkward, embarrassing, put-on-the-spot. Or it could’ve been enlightening, and I could’ve seen things differently.

  I really hope that would’ve been the case.

  All I know is that I couldn’t take the risk. I’m not up for that kind of pain, and I don’t want to be a hindrance to a man who won’t ask me to leave. That only ends up a disaster in the long run.

  I’ll be fine anyway. I’ll make things work. I’m strong and resilient, and I won’t fail Rosie.

  I won’t fail me.

  Even if Boone said he loves me.

  No, I can’t sit around and wait for the other shoe to drop. I have to be proactive. I have to keep moving because if you keep moving, it makes you a harder target for the world to destroy.

  Twenty-Five

  Boone

  The heavenly scent of biscuits and gravy welcomes me to the day.

  I stretch over my head, and my hands don’t hit the headboard.

  What the hell?

  I open my eyes.

  It’s a mistake.

  The sun pours through the windows and bathes the room in light. I snap my eyes back closed and try to sit up.

  That’s a mistake too.

  A bolt of pain fires through my head, and I’m reminded of the whiskey.

  And that I’m at Oliver’s.

  Because of my fight with Jaxi.

  Shit.

  Suddenly, a lot more than my head hurts.

  I ponder lying in Oliver’s guest room and never getting up. I wonder how long it would take for someone to find me? Before I will myself back to sleep, the breakfast aroma wafts into the room again.

  Why is Oliver being nice?

  I groan as I roll out of bed, wincing as I slip on my pants. I curse the sun as I try to get my bearings and a clear head. When I glance at my phone, I somehow manage not to throw it at the wall when I see no calls or missed texts.

  What a wonderful new day. Not.

  The stairs are steep as I head upstairs. We’ll need to put some safety gates or something so it’s safe for Rosie here. Or, actually, she likes Wade so damn much, so we just won’t let her play at Oliver’s.

  That makes me chuckle, imagining Oliver’s put-out expression.

  Then I stop. I close my eyes and let the reintroduction to heartbreak snap through my chest.

  I grip the banister and see Jaxi’s face.

  I wonder if she slept well. I wonder if she missed me. I wonder what she told Rosie.

  “This is going to suck,” I mutter as I get to the top of the stairs.

  My watch says it’s almost eleven in the morning, and I kick myself for missing work. Hopefully, Oliver told Wade I’d be late, so he’s not waiting on me to meet with the legal department over Greyshell.

  I round the corner into the kitchen and stop in my tracks.

  My mother is standing in the middle of Oliver’s kitchen with a no-nonsense look on her face.

  That’s never good.

  “Good morning,” she says, setting a plate of biscuits smothered in gravy in front of me. “It’s about time you got up.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  She opens the refrigerator and plucks out a Gatorade. She sets it next to the food.

  “I’m here because your brother called me and told me what happened,” she says.

  I sit on a stool.

  The food smells amazing, but it also makes me slightly nauseous. I burp. It smells like whiskey.

  This does not amuse my mother.

  She toys with a pink heart on her necklace and looks at me with full displeasure.

  “Hungover?” she asks.

  “A little.”

  “Hmm.”

  “In case you’re wondering,” I say, picking up the drink, “I’m not good today. I’m pissed off. I’m sad, if you must know. I’m irritated that Oliver called you before I had a chance to wrap my brain around things.”

  She lifts a brow before taking the pan to the sink.

  “In case you must know,” she says, “Oliver was worried about you.”

  I take a long drink, and the cold fluid feels good in my stomach.

  “I’m sure he was,” I say sarcastically.

  She sighs. “I’m not going to ask you what happened because I already know.”

  “Good.”

  “But I am going to demand you fix this.”

  I pick up my fork. “I realize I shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds me, but this is none of your business, Mom.”

  The water shuts off in a flash. She gives me a look—the look. The one that says I’ve overstepped.

  I stt the fork back down. “I’m sorry.”

  The look eases. “You’re entitled to be upset today. I’m entitled to be upset with you too.”

  “And why are you upset with me, considering this has nothing to do with you?”

  She laughs a one-syllable, choppy laugh that means she’s not laughing at all.

  “What? It doesn’t,” I say. “My girlfriend broke up with me. I’m not ten. You don’t have to listen to me cry in my pillow.”

  She wipes the counters down with a rag. “I’m not going to listen to you cry in your pillow because you’re going to stop this.”

  Irritation sweeps through me, causing my head to pulse again. I’d ask her who she thinks she is, but I know the answer. She’s Siggy freaking Mason, and she’ll kick my ass.

  I’m not that hungover.

  She tosses the rag in the sink, and then the façade comes off. The hands go on the hips.

  I brace myself.

  “What kind of man do you think I raised?” she says, starting off nice and hard.

  “Depends on which one you’re talking about.”

  She narrows
her eyes. “Don’t be dense, Boone. I’m talking about you.”

  “In that case, extremely handsome. Funny. Charming. Lots of people say charming.”

  “Oh, you’re funny all right.”

  “Why are you being mean to me?” I ask. “When Coy was all fucked up over Bells, you were kissing his ass.” My eyes go wide. “I’m still drunk! Don’t beat me!”

  She shakes her head.

  Her disappointment in me really seals the deal. I’ve peaked. It’s all downhill from here.

  My brothers are probably pissed I’m not at the office. Jaxi is pissed. Period. Rosie is probably sad that I’m not there, and I can’t even fucking think about that. And now my mom is mad because she realizes that what my brothers always say about me—that I don’t take anything seriously enough—is true.

  “Mom, I’m sorry. I know you liked her,” I say. “I tried to make it work. I just can’t … How do you make someone believe you love them?”

  “The first thing is telling them. I’m assuming you did that.”

  Sort of.

  “The second thing would be fighting for them. I’m assuming you’re doing that.”

  This is not going well.

  “And the third thing,” she says, clasping her hands together and leaning on the countertop across from me, “is putting together a grand gesture.”

  I don’t even know what that means.

  I’m so fucked.

  The fire in her eyes dies down as she motions to my breakfast. Dutifully, I pick up my fork and take a bite. It’s heaven.

  “Eat. Drink. We can’t do much today if you don’t get the alcohol out of your system,” she says.

  “Did Anjelica send you over here?” I side-eye my mother. “I can’t take her today. I can’t. I won’t do it. She’s mean and bossy, and it’s a recipe for disaster—especially this morning.” I cram more biscuits in my mouth. “I might not even work again. I might be a vagrant.”

  She tries not to laugh.

  “I’m not kidding,” I say. “What am I supposed to do? Pretend my house wasn’t a home at one point? I’ll probably not even go back there. You can just have it and give it to someone. But not Anjelica.” I jab my fork in the gravy. “And that’s just because I’m spiteful.”

  She can’t take it anymore. She laughs.

  “Are you done?” she asks.

  “With what?”

  “Being a smart-ass.”

  I shake my head. “Probably not.”

  She lifts off the counter and watches me. “Then keep your mouth shut and listen to me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She seems pleased with my cooperation.

  “You’ve been in love with that girl since she broke into your house,” she says. She points a finger at me when I begin to interrupt. “I know you have because I’m your mother. I made you. I know every nuance and every cue there is to know about my children. So don’t argue with me.”

  I nod. I’m afraid to even agree with her when she gets like this.

  “You were not raised to just give up on things. We might’ve coddled you a little more than the others—”

  “What? That’s so not true.”

  She points at me again. “That is true. And despite that, you’ve always been so strong and so capable.”

  That’s fair.

  Keep going.

  “I’ve seen you fight for things that don’t matter a fraction as much as this,” she says. “Like the tree in front of the high school. Do you remember that?”

  “That totally mattered. That was the only shade in the courtyard. And the tree wasn’t dead.”

  She grins. “And the time you fought Holt over trying to send his secretary to Wade’s office?”

  “I didn’t want her feelings hurt.”

  “I could go on and on, Boone.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “So why aren’t you fighting for this?”

  I could name a few reasons, but none of them are totally true. They’re mostly cop-outs.

  I knew it last night in a moment of clarity.

  My retreat from the situation wasn’t because my feelings were hurt or that she didn’t trust me. It wasn’t even that she was taking Rosie and moving out.

  It was that for the first time in my life, I wanted something that mattered. I needed it. I needed them.

  It wasn’t losing a contract or missing a concert or having a girl I was seeing move away. None of that matters. It was replaceable. I could find a substitution.

  There is no substitution for Jaxi and Rosie.

  They’re it.

  They are my people, the souls who make mine feel complete. With them, things make sense. They fall into line. The world is balanced.

  So, what if I couldn’t have them? What if Jaxi said no? What if it didn’t work out and there was nothing I could do?

  I kept thinking about Libby and Ted. How they seemed happy, and then it was all over. If I gave that much of myself to Jaxi and she walked away, I’d die. I couldn’t go on.

  “Boone?” Mom asks softly.

  “I’m scared too. What if she doesn’t want me?”

  That line is usually followed up by a laugh or a punchline, but not this time. This time, I mean it.

  It’s a sobering thought.

  “What if I try my best and it doesn’t work? What if … what if she needs more than I can give her?”

  Mom smiles softly. “She needs someone to love her and that little girl unconditionally. Are you implying that you can’t do that?”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “That’s all she really needs, honey. And no one can love them like you do.” She looks around the room, searching for words. “You took her in. You gave them a home. You didn’t send them to a hotel or take off to Vegas to let her figure it out. You knew, intuitively, that she was your person and this little girl was your family. You did what none of your brothers would’ve done.”

  She lets that sink in before smiling at me again.

  “I know we haven’t spent much time together yet, but in the times we have, I’ve watched her with you. I’ve watched her look at you when no one is looking. She looks at you like I’ve always hoped a woman would look at the son of mine she’s chosen. With adoration. With a little bit of awe, that I know they’ll grow out of.” She winks at me. “She chose you, Boone. She’s in love with you. You just have to have faith, sweetheart. And believe in yourself like I believe in you. Like she believes in you.”

  My chest warms.

  “Trust me, Boone. If she didn’t believe in you, she never would’ve let that little girl near you.”

  Shit.

  “What do I do then?” I ask.

  A twinkle sparkles in Mom’s eye. There’s something exciting, something hopeful about it.

  I get off the stool. The breakfast is forgotten.

  “First things first. How committed are you to her?” Mom asks.

  “How committed am I or how committed do I want to be?”

  “Want to be.”

  I think about my answer before I say it.

  It takes two seconds.

  “I’m all-in, Mom.”

  A bubble of excitement bursts in my stomach.

  Who am I kidding? I want Jaxi. I love her. And I want Rosie too.

  My family is right. It’s time for me to get my shit straight.

  “Will you help me, Mom? I need to make this good.”

  She smiles. “Go shower and brush your teeth. Get dressed. And for the love of God, do not put Oliver’s pink shirt back on. I have a plan.”

  Twenty-Six

  Jaxi

  I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.

  I take in the apartment complex in front of me. The eggshell blue paint with bright, clean white trim gives it a very fun and fresh vibe.

  The landscape is meticulous. Large palm trees loom overhead and short, waxy-leaved bushes line the walkways. The trash receptacles are camouflaged to blend in with the surroundings. All in all, I can see Ro
sie and me living here.

  If we have to.

  “Are you ready, Rosie?” I ask, tugging on her hand.

  She looks up at me. “Where are we?”

  “We’re going to go inside. I need to talk to a man,” I tell her.

  I don’t know when or how I’m going to tell her we’re moving here. It’s another change in her little life that’s already been pummeled with them.

  It doesn’t seem fair.

  But staying at Boone’s under the circumstances doesn’t seem fair either.

  I can’t win. He must agree because he didn’t come home last night.

  I thought he would. Down deep, I hoped he would. I almost broke down around four this morning and called him. But I know he knows his way home. If he was hurting as much as I was, he would’ve returned.

  Believe what he’s showing you, Jaxi. You were right. Now keep going forward.

  “Look! A bird!” Rosie says, pointing at a big black bird floating on a breeze.

  “It’s pretty, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  We get to the front door and walk inside. The lobby has a cathedral ceiling with an oversized fireplace on the back wall. It looks like it was a model home at some point.

  I’m in love.

  “Can I help you?” A woman with white-blond hair and a name tag that says Susan greets me with a smile.

  “Yes. Hi. I’m Jaxi Thorpe, and I’m here to see Danny.”

  Her smile grows wider. “If you will grab a seat, he’ll be right with you.”

  She motions toward a few brown leather couches near the fireplace. I lead Rosie to them and get her settled next to me with my Kindle.

  Despite the sadness in my heart, being in this environment sends a shock of excitement through me. I love watching the people come in and out. I imagine the job that Susan might do and how she might help various residents meet their needs.

  “Someday,” I whisper to myself.

  “Huh?” Rosie asks.

  I ruffle her hair. “Nothing. I was talking to myself.”

  “Oh.” She looks around. “Where is Boone?”

  “I … I don’t know,” I say as cheerfully as I can muster. “I think he’s at work.”

  She frowns. “He’s not at work.”

  “He’s not?” I laugh. “And how do you know?”