Page 120 of The Golden Hour

“She and Daisy just fell asleep about ten minutes ago,” Rob says. “Honey told us what happened. Your mom already went home, but I wanted to wait for you.”

Mason swallows hard, his hands starting to shake once more.

“Let’s go for a drive,” Rob says. “Me and you, kid. That's alright?”

“Yeah,” Mason says, pulling out of the driveway. “Where are we headed?”

Rob’s smile widens.

“You’ll see.”

“Carpenter!”

A giant redheaded man with a long beard bellows as soon as Mason and Rob walk downstairs. Rob chuckles, and both men clap their hands together in greeting so loud that it echoes through the room like a thunderclap. “You getting soft, old man.”

“Soft, my ass,” Rob snorts, before lifting a hand in greeting toward the others in the room.

Mason takes a look around. He was confused when his dad told him to drive to the local firehouse, and even more confused when his dad led them down the stairs to the basement like he’d been here a million times before. It’s a rec room. Three men and a woman are playing pool while a few others crowd around a large television, watching football highlights and laughing loudly.

“So, who’s this?” The redhead says, raising an eyebrow at Mason. “Fresh meat?”

“This is Mason,” Rob says, smiling proudly at his son.

Mason feels his back straighten in response. Not because of the pride, but because of the warmth in his father’s voice. He used to be so prideful when he was introduced to someone—Dr. Mason Carpenter—as if that were something people should fawn over. He was proud of being a doctor, but he used to be proud for the wrong reasons.

He’s trying to change that, but it’s hard when the specialty he’s in feels like a riptide he has to fight tooth and nail to swim out of. Nights like tonight don’t help, and the rush he used to feel when he saved someone was replaced completely by grief and horror. Mason doesn’t know what to do with the empty space the rush used to fill.

“No shit,” the man exclaims, reaching a hand out to shake Mason’s. “How you doing, Doc? I hear great things from your pop.”

“I’m doing alright,” Mason says softly.

Which isn’t true, not even a bit. He’s still a little shaky, still feeling the adrenaline bleed from his body, but the genuine warmth in the redhead’s blue eyes is making him feel safe and welcomed. The rest of the people in this room feel much of the same.

“Right—I’m Mac,” the redhead laughs, before pointing around the room. “That’s Tanner, Sonja, Jim, and Miguel,” he says, pointing at the people at the pool table, who wave to Mason.

He does the same to the ones by the television, who pause their passionate debate to smile in greeting, before immediately going back to arguing about a bad call. “And those four over there are Zai, Peter, Megan, and Wilson.”

“Hi,” Mason says, waving to everyone. “Nice to meet everyone—what exactly is this?”

Mac and Rob share a smile.

“Remember what I told you? When Daisy was born, about the support group,” Rob asks Mason, who nods. “This is it.”

“Welcome!” Mac says, holding his hands out. “To the Island of Misfit Toys.”

Mason smiles, though he feels it shake around the edges. It matches the tremors in his hands, but he finds them slowly disappearing as the group moves like a well-oiled machine. Or at least people who have done this over and over again and have the routine memorized.

Four people lift each corner of the pool table and move it out of the way while others grab folding chairs from the corner and place them in a circle. Rob claps his big hand on Mason’s back and guides him over to a chair as everyone else takes what Mason assumes are their normal places.

And they just talk.

About everything and nothing.

Tanner talks happily about his brilliant granddaughter, who got accepted to Penn.

Sonja speaks about the coffee shop she owns with her husband with great pride.

Zai talks about being offered partner at his law firm.