Page 119 of The Golden Hour

“Mhm, I like the way you think, Miss Thing,” Honey says, standing from her seat and heading to the kitchen. “Your daddy’s favorite is brownie batter. Let’s go get him a pint. And mommy some cookie dough…”

Daisy makes a hissing noise, and Honey takes it as an agreement.

“Genius baby.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

MASON

The Hayes house has never looked sweeter than it does now as Mason pulls into the driveway.

As soon as he’s parked, he doesn’t turn the car off. He just sits there, hands gripping the steering wheel with an iron grip. His soul is demanding, practically screaming at him, to rush inside the house, to see Honey and Daisy.

After what he witnessed over the last three hours, he needs them close. He needs to hold Daisy and hear her sweet baby noises. He needs to bury his face in Honey’s hair and feel her breathing against him. He needs to confirm that they are alive, safe, and happy.

But he can’t move just yet.

His adrenaline still feels too high. His chest feels too tight. His hands still shake, and his fingers tighten around the leather of the steering wheel as if that will help steady him. The time catches his eye—ten-fifty-seven. Honey and Daisy are probably sleeping by now, and it would be selfish to wake them up for his own selfish needs.

So he just sits in his car, staring at the garage lit up by his headlights.

The softly playing music becomes overwhelming, so he turns it off and closes his eyes to try to calm himself.

This feels familiar in the worst way.

Months ago, he would do this same thing without the feeling of guilt clawing at his chest. Only satisfaction. That rush of feeling that would wash over him, the lingering effects from the adrenaline that made him focused and sharp and almost desperate to recreate the feeling over and over again.

He’s not feeling that today.

All he feels is… hollow.

All he sees is the bloody, screaming patients he treated, and his mind tortures him when their faces suddenly become Honey and Daisy. Or his mother, his father, Melissa, and Phil.

Just regular people who were trying to enjoy a concert, and instead became a tragedy.

All because of one selfish asshole gunman whom Mason had the pleasure of treating for his injuries from the police.

Mason bit his tongue hard enough to bleed as he saved the man responsible from his bullet wounds, even though he was half tempted to just fucking let him die. But he took an oath. He took an oath, and the oath did not disappear just because the patient on the table deserved pain. Mason did his job, and he should be proud of himself.

He helped save more patients than he can count, but he lost too many.

One in particular made his fucking heart stop in his chest.

One of the first patients was brought in from an ambulance. It was almost déjà vu when he saw her being wheeled in by the EMTs. All his eyes could grab onto was blonde hair, streaked red with blonde, and brown eyes wide with fear. Not Honey. But for a brief, horrible second, he was in that same place he was two months ago.

They could not save that girl. She coded on the table and was pronounced dead. Mason had to rush to an empty hallway to break down.

Then he called Honey.

And his wife placed them on FaceTime so he could see Daisy. He’ll be grateful to his wife for that forever. Honey somehow managed to make him laugh despite the horror he felt, and Daisy smiled at him like the world was still good.

A knock on his window makes him jump. He turns to see his father standing there, a concerned look on his face.

“Jesus…” Mason gasps, going to turn the car off before his dad circles around and climbs into the passenger side. “Sorry, I⁠⁠—”

“We’re going to take a ride,” Rob says, his voice gentle.

“Dad, I need to see⁠⁠—”