Chapter Seven
Mason
"Do you want to come inside?" Olive asks, lingering on her front porch with this look in her eyes that says she desperately wants me to say yes.
And goddamn, I want to scoop her up, storm inside, and not leave her perfect body until she feels me everywhere. But I can't.
"Not tonight, Rebel," I murmur regretfully, brushing a kiss across the corner of her mouth.
"Oh."
I hate how disappointed she sounds.
"I'd do shady shit to go inside with you right now," I whisper. "But I'm trying to go slow. I don't want to be something you regret tomorrow, beautiful." Not when I'm damn sure I wouldn't regret it.
If I hadn't already been falling for her, tonight would have sealed the deal. She's extraordinary. I need her to trust me. I need her to know that she can count on me to put her first. And I fucking desperately need her to fall for me, too.
When I asked her out, she was afraid I'd ghost her. I don't know the details, but I know she's slow to trust because of whatever that prick did. I'm not going to rush this, not when it matters this much. She needs to see that I can be patient and go at her pace.
"Maybe I don't need slow," she whispers, peeking up at me.
"You do." I touch her cheek. "I know what you read, baby. You need romance and trust and a reason to believe that I won't break your heart."
Her face falls. "Mason, it's not you. It's…"
"You don't owe me an explanation, Rebel."
"I do," she whispers, sucking in a breath. "I tried to date before. Um, it never worked out. The first guy ghosted me after we talked for weeks. I was stood up a few times. One guy tried to do cocaine off my coffee table. Another got into a bar fight. Another was arrested on the way home from our date. After all of that, I guess I started questioning my own judgment, whether I could trust myself when it came to dating."
"Jesus Christ." I stare at her in shock. "He was arrested?"
"He was wanted, out of your home state, coincidentally."
"For what?"
"Home invasion, carjacking, and a few other things."
"Jesus, Olive." This is what it feels like to age ten years in two seconds. I damn well know it is. "Does he know where you live?"
"Yes?"
"Jesus." I shove a hand through my hair, trying not to lose my mind.
"It's fine, Mason. He's in prison in Oregon."
"Nothing about that is fine, Olive," I growl.
She cringes. "Okay, maybe you're right. It sounds bad, but it's not like he can break in from prison. He'd have to break out of there first, and I've heard that's hard to do. I think I'm good."
Do not lose your shit. Do not lose your shit. Do not lose your shi—
"Honestly, if anyone were to show up, it'd probably be Joey, the jerk who tried to do cocaine in my living room."
"You're moving in with me. Right now. Tonight," I growl.
"Mason," she says, her expression softening into a smile. "I'm fine here. It's been like two years, and no one has tried to bother me. I doubt they even remember me."
There's too much to process all at once here. First, she absolutely is not fine here. A drug addict and a criminal know where she lives. Nothing about that is fine. Second, she hasn't dated in two years? What the actual fuck is wrong with men? It took one meeting and five minutes of conversation with her before I was hooked. If the rest of mankind is too stupid to realize what a goddamn treasure she is, they have the kind of issues that can't be fixed.