Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Within minutes, my mind is spinning once more, and the panic is back so strong, I nearly choke for air but do my best to keep my heart rate steady, since his little cheek is resting against it.
Tears fall from my eyes, the saltiness slipping between the cracks of my lips, and I drop my head back to keep them from landing atop his head.
Lifting my phone into the air, I hastily scroll through the contacts, pausing when I reach his name. My eyes squeeze closed, and I shake my head.
You can do this. You can get through today. Get through today, and tomorrow will be better, and no one has to know.
I drop my phone to my side, but after a moment, I pick it back up and send a different message before I can think twice.
I toss my phone and forget about it, cuddling my son tight. Thankfully, he stirs only forty-five minutes later, his little head popping up with a grin.
“Hi, mister man.” I kiss his cheeks and change him, and we settle on his nursery floor.
We read a couple of books and sing along to a couple of shows. We take another walk, a longer one this time, and then we have dinner, just the two of us at the kitchen table. We take a bath and stay in there until we’re cold and shriveled, and it’s not long until he’s rubbing at his eyes some more.
This time, I know I can’t hold him as he sleeps. He’ll be out all night now.
I rock him slowly, and all too soon, his little snores sound in my ear. With shaky limbs, I push to my feet and ease him down into his bed. After one last longing look, I turn on the monitor and close the door.
And then I collapse against it. I drop to my ass, my head falling into my hands as a sob racks through me uncontrollably, shaking me to the bone and leaving me gasping.
I grip my throat and shove to my feet, stumbling through the house and out the back door. I rush to the railing, clutching it with both hands as I bend at the waist, my head hanging between my extended arms, and I cry.
Cries that are interrupted by the soft shuffle of sand.
My head snaps up, and every muscle in my body locks tight.
Mason stands there, still in his practice gear, cleats and all.
“Mase…” My voice breaks.
He climbs the steps slowly, a soft smile on his lips, his arms hanging at his sides stiffly, as if he wants nothing more than to reach for me but isn’t sure if he should.
All worries wash from my mind, and I throw myself into his chest.
Instantly, his strong arms wrap around me, holding me close, his cheek resting against my head.
“I’ve got you, Pretty Little. I’m here,” he whispers. “I’ve been here.”
Confused, I pull back and look up at him.
A tender smile tugs at his lips, the longing in his gaze almost too much, but I don’t look away. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, and his voice is raspy when he speaks. “I came as soon as I could…just in case you needed me.”
I latch onto his wrist, holding on for dear life.
He knows. He remembered what today was. He knew how hard it would be for me.
He remembered for me.
“This is why you’ve been distant,” he guesses.
I nod, unable to form the words and unwilling to admit he’s only partially right.
“I should have realized, and I’m sorry I didn’t. I just got in my head and thought maybe you changed your—”
“Payton, you back here?” a voice calls from the side of the house, and both of us freeze.
Mason goes rigid against me, and when I look up, his eyes are staring to the left. I follow, spotting a head of sandy brown hair.
Chase jerks to a stop, his brows drawn in confusion as he looks at the two of us.
“Uh…hey.” He nods at Mason, and slowly, his eyes come back to mine as he lifts the little bag in his hands. “Brought the shakes.”
I swallow, fingers digging tighter into Mason’s top.
“What’s going on?” Chase asks cautiously, his eyes moving back to his best friend’s.
Tension tugs at my chest, and I force myself to look to Mason, but his eyes are still pointed at the newcomer.
“What’s wrong?” Chases pushes.
Mason’s muscles flex against me, and my stomach churns at the blank sheet of his expression.
“Mase,” I breathe.
Gently, with movement so slow it tears at something within me, he removes his arm from around me and his hand from my face, and lastly his fingers latch around my hand, untangling my grip on his wrist. He steps back, and only when no part of him is touching me do his brown eyes drop to meet mine.