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I suck in a breath—Mason looks so indescribably sexy even standing as he is, in an emergency room with thick bandages wrapped around his midsection, and a couple bruises decorating his face.
My body aches to go to him. Throw myself at him. Toss my arms around him and bury my face in his neck and feel his warmth. The hard, steely security he offers me with his presence alone. The same security I’d felt when he’d pulled me out of that box buried in the dirt.
Instead, I hold back, but allow for a small quirk of my lips. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me.”
“I wouldn’t let them remove the bullet from my gut ’til they told me how you were doing. That answer your question?”
“Your gut? Mason—”
“It didn’t do any serious damage. It clipped my side. Only some of the bullet wound up inside me. All removed.”
“Can I… is it okay if I… fuck it!”
I give up trying to articulate myself and go for it. I do what I’ve been thinking about, throwing out my arms, and hugging him.
To my relief, he welcomes the show of affection. His own arms snake around my back and hold me in place against him. He surprises me by rasping out a thick laugh.
“There’s the Syd I was worried about,” he says, brushing his lips to my brow. “You weren’t yourself when I pulled you out of that hole.”
I close my eyes and press my cheek into the solid wall of his chest. “You rescued me. You didn’t have to come for me. You could’ve let them do what they were doing.”
“Not a chance in hell.” His fingers enclose on my chin, tilting up my face so that my gaze connects with his. “It was my fault. I cast you out in the first place. You ran away to Wheaton ’cuz of me. You were put in that situation with the Reapers ’cuz of me. I was blinded by anger and too slow catching on to what the fuck was going on.”
“We both were. Velma—”
“Dead,” he interrupts. “Dead by her own stupid fucking desperation. So are Auden and most of the Reapers.”
“I still don’t understand what they wanted. Least of all with me.”
He strokes his fingers through my messy, disheveled mane of hair and then drops his hand to grab mine. “There’s a lot to explain. A lot of shit that was going down that neither of us were aware of. But, right now, all I wanna do is go home and get some sleep.”
I clutch his hand, grateful we’re on the same page again. “Me too. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
35
MASON
The first dayfollowing the battle with the Road Reapers is a blur. Most of the guys are released from the ER and return to Pulsboro. Sydney and I head home, take quick showers, and collapse in bed, sleeping for almost twelve hours, we’re so damn exhausted. We don’t emerge ’til the next day like we’re waking from a much-needed hibernation.
And it’s true—after being buried alive and a gunshot wound to the abdomen, we need the break. The shuteye and rest do us some good.
I wake to the trickling sound of coffee brewing. It’s an unexpected sound to wake up to, leaving me lost as to what’s going on.
I drag a hand over my face, feeling the coarse scruff growing on my jaw. It takes my brain another half a minute to play catch up and figure out the most basic things.
Where am I? What day is it? Time? Where the hell is that trickling sound coming from and who’s causing it?
The drawn window curtains block out most of the sunlight from the room, though the birds twittering outside tell me it’s morning.
My gaze lands on the empty spot beside me in bed. There’s a groove there—the curvy outline of a body that’s been lying there almost as long as I have.
Sydney.
I swing my legs over and let my bare feet touch the ground. It’s as I stand up that I realize I’m butt-naked. In my exhaustion, I must’ve collapsed immediately after my shower and not even paid mind to it. Most nights, I sleep naked, but I usually remember taking my clothes off.
Yet, right now, my mind’s blank. All memories of even hitting my pillow are fuzzy.
I slide into some boxers and venture past my room.
