With his walker, I slowly took him down the hall, getting him into bed.
“Thank you, my dear.” His old face looked exhausted and heartbroken. “It’s no wonder my boy adores you so much.”
“Oh. It’s not that way.” I placed the blanket over him, fluffing his pillow. “He’s my niece’s friend.”
“I might be old, but I’m not blind.” He wiggled in, sighing heavily. “My boy is very special. He’s had to grow up fast, been through so much.” Sadness flittered in his eyes. “Grace and I won’t be around forever. We only have so much time allotted in this life, and I want him to be happy, no matter what.” His sentiment felt direct, as if it meant more than surface value.
Neal closed his eyes, turning into his pillow.
With a heavy breath, I turned off the light and headed out, feeling his pain, the fear of possibly losing her as if she were my own.
I drank my dinner, probably dessert too. My worry continued to wander to the James’s home as I stared absently at the fire, hoping Grace would be all right. For both the men’s sakes.
Holiday music and my tree felt contradictory against my current mood, though it fit with the few flakes falling from the sky. It was well past midnight, but I couldn’t seem to move, and sleep seemed far from reality, even with an early morning barreling toward me.
A thump hit my front door, jolting me. My head snapped to it, my mouth suddenly going dry. I knew who it was. Setting down my glass, I got up, strolling for the door, ignoring the way my stomach fluttered.
Swinging it open, the air sucked from my lungs.
Mason stood there, his hands leaning against the frame as though it were holding him up, his head bowed, the snowflakes catching in his hair.
Slowly his head lifted, his eyes finding mine. The depth of sadness and grief etched into them, as though his soul was a hundred times heavier than others.
I didn’t say anything. Words weren’t needed.
He stepped inside as my arms went around him, pulling him into my embrace, wanting to take his sorrow, wanting him to feel my warmth. A pained noise came from him, his head tucking into the curve of my neck, his hands circling around my waist, holding me like I was the only thing keeping him together.
His warm breath stroked my neck, the feel of his chest moving in and out with heavy breaths, rubbing against my breasts. His heart beat against mine, his hair between my fingers, his huge physique pressing into me.
It appalled me how easily I could imagine him picking me up, my legs wrapping around him as he carried me to the bedroom, wanting him to take every fear and emotion he felt out on my body.
Sucking in with chagrin, I tried to pull back, but Mason wouldn’t let go, gripping me tighter, fighting through his terror, using me as an anchor to keep him from falling.
“I can’t lose her.” His voice came out coarse and low.
There was nothing I could say, no comforting words that didn’t feel contrived and false. Grace might get through this now, but sadly, this would take a toll on her body, which was already tiring.
After a long moment, I leaned back, my gaze searching his. Normally, he was a force. Strong and commanding. Tonight, I saw vulnerability. A guy who carried the world on his shoulders and needed for once someone to be there for him.
Taking his hand, I guided him to the sofa. Sitting down, I pulled him to me. He followed my lead, laying his head on my lap, my fingers threading through his hair.
Over and over, I stroked his temple and head, hearing his breathing shudder before he exhaled, his lids closing.
Time no longer existed to me. Nothing else mattered. Music hummed in the background, snowflakes fell outside, the warm fire crackled… and nothing felt more as if I were truly home than it did right now.
Chapter 18
Emery
Blaring, my alarm jolted me awake with a cry. My legs kicked at my sheets, tangled in my comforter. My brain did not understand where I was or what was going on.
Rubbing my eyes, I peered around my bedroom, not recalling going to bed last night. Recollections of me on the sofa, my eyes drifting closed, his head on my lap.
Mason.
Scrambling out of bed, I beelined for the living room, finding it empty and quiet. The blanket folded. The Christmas lights off. Everything in place as though last night never happened. I had dreamed it all. Except I could still feel his weight on my lap, the softness of his hair, the moment he let go and fell asleep, his expression free of worry. How his fingers wrapped around my thigh, probably thinking it was a pillow.
From an outsider, this would have been so unacceptable; the lines needing to stay in place were hazy and distorted. Yet, seeing him at my door, I didn’t care. He needed me. Needed someone to hold on to. Keep him from floating away in grief and fear.
I understood that more than most.
My fingers trailed over the blanket I had put on him last night as if I could still feel him, sense his heat, his presence. Mason must have carried me to bed, which smeared the line even more. He had been in my bedroom. Put me in bed. It felt intimate. Inviting.
The clock on the wall chimed seven a.m.
“Oh shit!” I dashed for the bathroom, jumping in the shower and rushing to get ready to get to the shelter on time.
The day was a blur of pets and people stopping by our outdoor adoption event, looking for the animal that fit perfectly into their home. Getting attached to the animals as I had, it was hard to not want to adopt them all myself. Finding them a forever home, knowing the dog or cat would have the best life, was incomparable.
One family really struck me. The little girl had Down syndrome, and Max, a German Shepard at the shelter, was instantly drawn to her. The moment the family walked up, the dog picked them, as if it were his job to protect and love that little girl.
Anita and I were in tears as they filled out the paperwork, the dog already licking the little girl’s face, her small chubby fingers tugging on his hair as he stood by her side guarding her. She was his little girl. Dogs had such keen intuition, and I had no doubt Max felt she was more vulnerable, and he instantly wanted to protect her.
“Oh goodness.” Anita wiped at her face. Though the family couldn’t take him home today because others had filled out an application for him too, she knew we would be calling this family later with the news they would soon be able to. “Some days this job can be hard and sad, and other days… It’s the best feeling in the world to match animals with people like that.”
She was right. It was such a high. It was so gratifying and made me feel not only had I given the dog a better life, but the whole family.
“Good work, team!” Anita clapped her hands at the few volunteers and workers at the event. The end of the day coming to a close. “It’s been a long but good day. Almost 80 percent of the animals got at least one application.”
Cheers went up, but my heart wanted to protest for the ones who didn’t get picked. They all deserved loving homes.
“You guys were amazing, and we couldn’t run this place without our volunteers.” Anita put her hands together, giving us a little bow of appreciation. “Thank you.”
The sun had long set by the time we cleaned up and got all the animals settled and fed. When I got back to my car, I felt exhausted, but I buzzed with fulfillment and a joy that felt almost foreign to me.