Noah tries to shove me. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“I am not in the habit of giving second chances, so you’re already on borrowed time,” I growl. “Go anywhere near Ryder, and I’ll make you regret it.”
Noah swallows.
“I could drag you out of here right now,” I add. “I doubt anyone will stop me. In fact, I’m pretty sure your dad will just throw the doors wide open and make sure no one gets in my way. I would hate to think I spared the wrong brother.”
I offer him one final look before storming out.
Before the car drives off, I see Noah standing in the doorway, rubbing his wrists. Once we round the corner, I sink back against the leather chair with a scowl.
At least Jack will be pleased that we have a mayor in our back pocket.
I console myself with the thought that I have one less problem to worry about as we drive off into the night.
Chapter Nineteen
London
I sit on the edge of the armchair and watch the flames dance in the fireplace. I stand up and pace, pausing every so often. Each time I don’t hear Mason’s familiar footsteps, another flash of disappointment courses through me. With a sigh, I rake my hand through my hair and begin to pace again.
But no amount of movement can help me outrun my thoughts or the panic growing steadily inside of me.
It’s been two days since I told Mason.
Two days of tossing and turning and reaching for him across the bed to find it empty.
Two days of feeling like I’m banging against a brick wall, begging for him to let me in.
I have no idea what’s going to happen next, and I am terrified.
I lie awake at night imagining going back to my old life, to hours spent on my feet in the diner and trudging home to an empty bed, and a Mason-sized hole in my heart. I try to picture myself bringing a crib into my childhood room and spending my days soothing and shushing, and I can’t do it.
I don’t want to do any of it without Mason.
So how are you going to make him be there, huh? He’s made his feelings clear, so unless you plan on forcing him to be present, there’s not a damn thing you can do.
All I can do is yearn and hope, even though I have no idea what I’m praying for.
Do I want Mason to turn his back on everything he’s known?
Do I want to stay and build some semblance of a life with him?
Do I want to raise my baby in the eye of the storm, knowing they’ll never be safe?
I don’t realize I’m crying until I touch a hand to my face, and it comes back wet. With a frown, I lower my hand and stare out the window. My throat is tight with emotion as I make myself turn away. When I stop in front of the fireplace, I think I see myself in the flames, clutching a baby in my arms as I run.
I blink and see Mason standing between us and a gun.
His life is already chaotic enough. Imagine adding a baby to all of that. But you know that if he decides to stick by you and the baby, he won’t go back on his word.
I have no idea if it’ll wind up getting him killed.
My breath catches at the thought as I lower myself into the armchair and bury my face in my hands. For a while, I sit there, replaying my options over and over in my head. Slowly, I find myself falling asleep. Sometime later, when I hear a low murmur of voices outside the door, I bolt upright in the chair.
Breathe. Just breathe, London. You can do this.
The door clicks open, and I know it’s Mason.
