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“Couldn’t sleep,” I say, darting my attention away and pretending to focus on the very interesting coffee table in front of me. “What are you doing up?”
“Taking you shopping. We leave in an hour.”
My head pops up as I watch him walk through the living room and into the kitchen. His back muscles are a very welcome distraction.
Wait, what?
“Shopping for what?” I ask, following him.
“Enough is enough, Soph.”
He turns on the coffeemaker, then digs around in the cabinet. “You want some?” he asks, grabbing two mugs before I even respond.
“Sure, yeah. Wait. What are you talking about?” I ask, going to the fridge for creamer because I need to keep my hands busy before I do something stupid like reach out and touch him.
“You need a bed,” he says, turning to face me, and I blink. “We have the third room, so you might as well use it. We’ll get a bed, nightstand, and dresser, a bookcase for all your books, and whatever else you need. No use sleeping on that shitty couch because I know it’s not that comfortable. I’ve spent a few drunken nights on it myself.”
“Mason,” I say softly, placing the creamer on the counter next to him. “I appreciate you giving me the third room, I really do, but I can’t afford all that. I’m already going to be stretching my budget to pay my portion of the rent, so—”
“Who said you had to pay rent?” he snaps, narrowing his eyes on me.
“Well, no one, but I’m not going to live here rent free.”
“You are,” he says, his blunt tone leaving no room for argument, but I push anyway.
“Mason, please don’t treat me like a sick puppy.”
“Soph, I wasn’t.” His voice is genuine, but his expression looks as if I’d slapped him.
“I know you didn’t mean to, but I don’t want anyone’s pity. You’re already being way too nice, so yes, I will pay rent to live here. I’m not a freeloader and want to pay my share. I’ll take on a few extra students to tutor and save up for a bed.”
“Let me buy you a bed, Soph. Please.” Mason takes me by surprise, and I gasp when he steps toward me and grabs my hand. He wraps both of his palms over my fist, then rests it on his chest over his heart. “Let me do this for you.”
“This isn’t just picking up a dinner tab, Mason. This is a bed and furniture.”
“Well, it’s my house, and that room needs to be furnished.” He shrugs, knowing I can’t argue that, and flashes a victorious grin.
My shoulders drop as I officially give up the fight. He has a point.
“Fine.” I groan but smile. “But nothing fancy. Super cheap. We’ll go to a thrift store or something.”
The coffeemaker beeps as he closes the gap between us, then kisses my forehead. I allow my eyes to close for the briefest moment as I lean into his touch. Then he drops our hands, which I immediately miss.
“Sure, Soph. Cheap,” he mocks, giving me a look that tells me he’s faking his agreement completely. “Then we’ll get you some sheets, blankets, a lamp, and some décor. You can set it up however you want. Just please, no pictures of babies in flowerpots.”
I snort and laugh. “No babies? Afraid they’ll give you nightmares or something?” I tease.
“It’s not because of me,” he says with a knowing smirk. “Liam.”
This makes me laugh harder. “Why? He thinks it’ll be contagious, and he’ll suddenly have one of his own?”
His smirk deepens. “Exactly. His biggest fear is commitment, and babies have commitment written all over them.”
“Bless the woman who manages to tame him one day,” I tease.
He nods with a smile. I watch as he pours coffee into our mugs followed by cream and then a teaspoon of sugar into mine. Butterflies swarm in my stomach because he knows how I like my coffee. I’ve only been here for six days, but it already feels like home.
Mason is home.
Chapter Eighteen
Mason
Being this close to Sophie is dangerous as fuck. I know it, but now that she’s here, in my house, drinking my coffee and sitting on my couch, I don’t want her to leave. There’s been a huge shift in our friendship over the past year when she first started dating Weston, and this is another one—one I’m growing really damn fond of.
Even though we don’t really do anything when we hang out, I look forward to it every day when I wake up. Even given the shitstorm that is now my life, Sophie is safe, and that bastard will never hurt her again.
The fact that I’m not working pisses me off, but I know the reasons behind it, so even though I worked my ass off to get where I am, I can’t fight it. That promotion to be a forensic investigator, even though it’s a rookie position, is mine, and I’m not going to let it slip between my fingers after being at the grunt level for years. If it wasn’t for Sophie being here with me, I’d probably be drinking way too many beers and self-destructing as I replay the memory of that gun being pointed at me and my friends.
