Page 21 of Letting Go at 40

Only I don’t want him here, right?

I said I’d never need him.

I said I could handle everything on my own.

Suddenly, there’s an arm under my knees and another under my neck, shifting me, lifting me. I squeak as my body elevates and then I’m hitched upward to readjust the position.

“What are you doing?” My voice cracks.

Mason doesn’t answer. As he walks, I’m afraid he’ll drop me, so I wrap an arm awkwardly over his shoulder, tugging myself upward against him. My nose presses into his skin, moist from the summer humidity. Sweet with a hint of masculine cologne and sunshine. Inhaling, I draw in a scent that isn’t Ben’s, but clean and refreshing. Alive.

We don’t speak as he carries me to my bedroom on the first floor. Gently, Mason lays me on the bed and draws a light blanket over my legs and mid-section. He pushes back my hair again and my eyes close at the gesture. The touch is only comfort. He feels sorry for me.

Ben was so young.

She’s too young to be a widow.

I’d heard the whispers at the funeral. Death does not discriminate based on age, though. Or character. Or goodness.

“Sleep,” Mason whispers. His fingers tenderly stroke over my forehead, brushing back my hair. The crack of his knees tells me he squats beside the bed. “I’m right here.” His touch is comforting, sweet even. In a way, I’m reminded of how my mother used to comb my hair with her fingers, coaxing me as an anxious child to rest.

Then something warm and firm presses against my forehead, lingering a second.

My eyes flip open as Mason pulls back, his face coming into focus. Our eyes lock.

He kissed me.

The gesture was soothing. A sweeping motion of comfort, like a gentle breeze blowing through beach grass on a warm day.

Mason’s eyes shift. His gaze falls to where his fingers continue to work their magic, circling around my ear, dragging over my hair, soothing me, quieting me.

I might not have wanted Mason to stay when Ben first announced his diagnosis to his friends, but I’d pay a million dollars if I had it, to keep him stroking over my hair as he is.

I’m here for you.

Chapter 9

2 Years Ago

August

Second Reunion

[Mason]

Zack has arrived with his two little demons, who I actually get a kick out of. The older one by minutes, Trevor, is smart and a bit controlling. He’s the alpha in their two-person twin-pack. Oliver is a follower, a little sweeter, and a touch sensitive but defensive of his brother.

If I believed in twin flames or souls separated at birth, I’d think Ben and I were like that, only complete opposites, reunited as friends to complement one another.

The house returns to chaos with friendly banter and quiet reminders of Ben’s life. The goal of the next two weeks is to remember the good times. We don’t need to reconnect as much as Ben initially intended because we are now in business with one another and speak often.

I’ve practically moved into the apartment above the garage with visits back to Traverse City every other weekend to see Lynlee. Visits that are almost always interrupted by some bullshit with Samantha. Some crisis that can’t be avoided. Some need for funds like I’m a freaking ATM machine.

Lynlee is now four and full of fear. Death is a constant topic of discussion because of Ben.

Will I die? What if I get sick? Will she never see me again? What will Mommy do if I disappear?

I’m not certain there’s any heartfelt concern on Samantha’s part that I’ll go away. Only a fear of losing out on the money I continue to give her, that she continues to waste on everything but our daughter.