Page 97 of The Golden Hour

Honey leans forward, making sure Mason meets her eyes.

“She needs you.” Honey’s voice softens despite herself. “I need you.”

He blinks, that hope welling up in his eyes once more.

“You need to return to work,” Honey continues. “But if it goes back to how it was—you coming home late whenever you’re satisfied—” Honey grits her teeth. “I won’t be here waiting for you. We’ll work that out through a custody arrangement.”

Mason pales.

“I’m serious. I’m done with The Mason Show. I’m done living around your career. I’m done giving and giving and giving and not receiving anything in return from you,” Honey says, her voice strong and steady.

“There have to be doctors who find that balance. You need to find it, because whatever satisfaction,” she spits the word like it’s poison, “that the job gave you cannot be greater than your daughter. I won’t allow it anymore.”

Mason nods.

“Because I’m not that Honey anymore,” Honey scoffs at herself. “The weak and pathetic Honey that⁠⁠—”

“Don’t you say that!” Mason hisses, causing Honey to stumble over her words. He’s never spoken so sharply to her before. “You are not weak, nor are you pathetic. You were sick, you were hanging on by a fucking thread with no help from me. And you were still so damn strong for Daisy. Stronger than I ever was. I was weak and pathetic. Never you. Don’t you ever insult yourself like that again. I won’t allow it, not even from you.”

Honey’s mouth opens and closes a few times in shock at his passionate words and the sharp tone behind them. It’s nice to hear, but she feels stubborn and shakes her head. “I should have put my foot down earlier.”

“I wouldn’t have seen it!” Mason insists, his voice gravel-thick. “I was in too deep, chasing and fiending for a rush, for praise to satisfy my ego. The only thing that woke me up was you in that hospital bay—almost too late. I literally had⁠⁠—”

Mason cuts himself off and Honey frowns.

“What, Mason?”

Mason’s throat works and he glances over to Daisy.

“I had Daisy in twenty years trying to spell it out for me,” Mason rasps. “And all it made me do was dig in deeper.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dr. Weaver’s daughter,” Mason says quietly. “She came in to get stitches, and she… saw me. For what I was. An adrenaline junkie. An addict. She called me out, told me to wake up so Daisy wouldn’t become her. But I just buried it.”

“So don’t bury it,” Honey says, her voice gentle but firm. “You can’t bury it, Mason. You’re a father now. You’ll always be her father, no matter what.”

Something twists in his face, an almost pain-filled expression, and she can’t decipher it.

“I won’t fail you, Honey.”

“Don’t fail her.”

“Never,” Mason vows with a firm shake of his head. He kneels on the floor next to the bed, folds his hands and places them by her hip. Not touching her, but close enough to feel a charge bouncing back and forth between them. “I will never fail either of you ever again.”

Honey does something very brave then.

She decides to believe him about this.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

MASON

“Fair hours, fair pay! We won’t work another day! Fair hours, fair pay! We won’t work another day!”

“What the fuck,” Mason mutters as he stands dumbly on the sidewalk, looking around at the chaos. There are people everywhere, which is not entirely odd at a hospital—except he recognizes almost every face.

St. Mary’s nurses.