Relentless (Mason Family 4)

“Nate, buddy, I appreciate your big-brother act and all but—”

“It’s not a fucking act, Shaye.” His voice is as solid as a rock. “You have no one in the universe to go to bat for you. My bat is big enough to take care of you too.”

I know how he means it, but I can’t resist. It’s a good way to defuse the situation and avoid tears.

“How many women have you used that line on?” I tease, dropping my hand from my nose to my side.

He sighs in frustration, but smiles nonetheless.

“Look,” I say, putting another box on the end of the shelf, “I’m fine. I’m going to be fine. Everyone has to work for a living. I’ll just be working two jobs until the day I die.”

I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He wants to argue with me. But, slowly, I watch him relent.

Thank God.

“Speaking of working for a living, let’s get to it.” I find a towel perched on top of a stack of cups. “Is Paige still here?”

He nods. “Yeah. The dining room is pretty slow though. Would you mind cleaning this up? I can circle back in a few and help you, but I need to run a couple of errands.”

“Go. I’m good. It’ll be easier if you stay out of my way.”

“You just want me to stay away so I won’t talk to you.”

“No,” I say, tossing the towel on the floor next to the spill. “It’s just a fortunate side effect.”

He chuckles. “I wonder why I like you sometimes.”

“Same, Nate. Same.”

He flashes me a boyish grin and disappears through the doorway.

I kneel and gather random lids that are scattered under the shelves. The process gives me a moment to collect my thoughts—and emotions—too.

My heart is still tender. I massage it absentmindedly as I think about what Nate said.

You have no one in the universe to go to bat for you.

I force a swallow down my throat and set my jaw in place. My teeth ache as I clamp them together in a form of determination.

Nate is right. I have no one on my side in the world. And I’ll be well served to remember that.

The only two people I’ve ever really trusted to be on my side one hundred percent are my mother and Luca. Both were a mistake.

Mom took Luca’s side when we split, accusing me of being spoiled. She refused to understand that Luca had been so careless about our finances that I struggled to pay the utilities most months. She wouldn’t hear about him shoving me against a wall when I threatened to leave or taking my keys with him to work so I couldn’t go anywhere. She didn’t care that I didn’t love him anymore and that I wasn’t sure he ever really loved me.

And, when he crashed his car and died? She blamed that on me too.

We haven’t spoken since.

I put a stack of lids into a box at my side and let my hand rest on the edge. The cardboard bites into my wrist.

It’s sad that I feel more comfortable alone in life than with my family. It hurts my heart. But admitting the truth is the first step in moving on from trauma. At least, that’s what I read.

“I’m going to be fine,” I say quietly, pulling my hand back from the box. “I’m in control. I’m in the driver’s seat.”

My lips break out into a half-smile, half-grimace as I think about the last time I was in an actual driver’s seat.

Oliver’s smile slips into my brain, sweeping out thoughts of Mom and Luca.

I sit back on my heels. A sigh topples from my lips.

My arms cross over my chest and I snuggle into my shoulder, unable to remove the grin from my face. I search through our interaction—not with the fine-tooth comb I will use tonight, I’m sure—and try to find something, anything to indicate that he was annoyed. Or irritated. Or frustrated.

And I come up with nothing.

Could he really be remarkably handsome and unwaveringly kind? Does that kind of guy really even exist?

I drop my arms and shrug. Who knows? Not me and I never will. By the time I get my act together, all the good men in the world will be scooped up.

My knees scream as I get to my feet and get back to work, but that can’t matter. As Nate pointed out, I have an enormous debt to pay. And, as they say, life goes on.

Well, debt does, anyway.

Four

Oliver

“That’s never going to work.” I rub my forehead and listen to Greg, our construction manager, deliver his spiel over the phone. “Look, I don’t mean to cut you off here, but that’s simply not going to work.”

My leather chair squeaks as I lean back and gaze out of my office windows. The sun is shining brightly just above the buildings to the East. I love watching it rise—slowly inching its way into the sky like a lazy yawn. Some people meditate. Some go to church. I watch the sun rise.