My hands move to the back of his neck. “I know.”
Mason relaxes his grip a few moments later and leans back to look at me. “Are you okay? You look a little sick.”
My lips part, the words on the tip of my tongue.
After a long moment, I give Mason a small smile and sigh. “Yeah, I just had too much to drink. Olivia knows how to have fun.”
I can’t tell Mason the truth, not when I still have no idea what I’m going to do.
He has enough on his plate, and I can’t add one more thing for him to worry about.
You’re taking the coward’s way out, and you know it. He deserves to know the truth. It’s his baby, too.
Except I’m also terrified of what he will think.
Mason isn’t Jack Payne. I’ve seen it time and again, but it doesn’t mean he’ll welcome becoming a father, not with everything else happening.
I want to pretend for a little while longer.
So, when Mason tugs me toward the bed, and I curl into his side, I tell myself it’s for the best. When he drapes an arm around me and kisses the side of my head, uncharacteristically softly and tenderly, I repeat the same mantra. When he takes my face in his hands and kisses me, I kiss him back with everything in me.
I throw one leg on either side of him and straddle him as his hands move to my waist.
Mason’s hands move under my shirt, and goosebumps break out across my skin.
There’s a slight tremor in my hands as I reach for his shirt and pull it over his head.
Mason’s fingers are fumbling with the hook of my bra when someone knocks on the door. He growls, and his teeth sink into my neck. I throw my head back and rock against him. There’s another knock on the door, louder this time, and Mason stops to yell something out. A moment later, he untangles himself from me, throws the door open, and glares at the person on the other side.
I pull my shirt back over my head and wait quietly. “Is everything okay?”
Mason steps back into the room, a furrow between his brows. “There’s something that requires my attention.”
I inch closer to the edge of the bed and turn away. “I understand.”
Mason gives me a quick hug from behind and kisses the back of my neck. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t get dressed.”
After he leaves, I stretch out on the bed and cross one ankle over the other.
I lean back and stare up at the ceiling.
I think of the war looming on our doorstep and of Mason’s father prowling in the shadows, ready to pounce. Finally, my thoughts drift to my parents, who are out there somewhere, unaware of how much more danger I’ve put them in.
When I roll onto my side and curl in on myself, I suddenly miss my old life with a fierceness that surprises me.
I yearn for the simplicity and familiarity of it, and I immediately feel guilty for thinking of how happy my parents would’ve been with a baby.
You wouldn’t have hesitated to tell them, and all of you would have been celebrating.
I shove the thought away, squeeze my eyes shut again, and pray.
As I begin to drift, I realize that I have no idea what I’m praying for.
Chapter Four
Mason
I lift the glass to my lips and pause.