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The guy shook his head. “I wouldn’t watch it if I were you.”
“If only I’d stuck the landing,” Mason joked, waggling his brows.
The guy chuckled. “You out for a while?”
Mason’s smile stayed plastered to his face, but the light flickered from his eyes. “Depends on what they can do to put my head back together. It’s all foggy, man.”
“Sucks.”
“This is my shadow for the next few days,” Mason said, pointing my way. “Can we find a place for her car? Just put it on my tab.”
“Absolutely.”
As the guy headed my way, I climbed out of the car and opened the back door so I could get my bag. When I straightened again, the man was beside me, hauling it out of my arms. “We’ll send that up, ma’am.”
“Oh.” I blinked and stepped back. “Right. Sorry.”
Once he’d confirmed that I’d left the keys in the car and that all I needed was the one bag, Mason waved me over.
The second we were in the elevator, he let his smile fall. His eyelids drooped, too, as he rubbed his temples.
“You okay?”
He opened his eyes and examined me for a beat. “I don’t know.”
The honesty in the answer yanked at my chest. He’d been in good spirits all day, or he’d at least put on an impressive act, but it was obvious that he was hurting.
“It’s rough keeping up conversations. Hell, it’s hard to remember where I am, even if I know, you know?” His eyes went wide, and he waved a hand like he was afraid I would panic. “It’s just”—he frowned—“confusing for a second or two.”
I rubbed his good arm, going for soothing. “It will get back to normal, but healing takes time. For head injuries especially.”
He lowered his chin, fixating on where my palm was still splayed over his warm skin. I pulled it back quickly.
“Will it?” He swallowed and rested his head against the stainless-steel wall. “Because I like how it used to be, and I miss that.”
The words were mumbled and far off, like he was talking about more than just the concussion. When the elevator dinged, he finally opened his eyes. He ushered me out into the hallway, then toward one of the two doors on this floor. Inside his apartment, I was met with a massive open-concept living space and an incredible view of the city.
“Wow.” I had to fight back the tingles working their way through me as I took in the Boston skyline. This was so out of my league.
“Yeah, I thought it was weird.”
Weird was the last word I’d use to describe this place. It was gorgeous, stunning. Expensive.
“Who would have thought we’d have the exact same sofa?”
What?
I spun away from the window, and sure enough, a sofa identical to the one I’d bought at Ashley Furniture sat in the middle of his living room. Along with the couch, he had the chair and love seat to complete the set.
For a moment, I continued taking in his space and discovered a larger version of my table.
“Table too,” I mumbled.
“There’s that expression about minds.” He frowned, his emerald irises going dull. “Like they all think good.”
I bit back a chuckle. The poor guy was struggling, and the last thing I wanted to do was make him feel worse.
“Great minds think alike.”
