For some reason this makes my heart hurt. “I know that,” I whisper.
“I didn’t want to do this job. I didn’t want to hurt you that night. I tried to make the van as comfortable as possible and I barely gave you any of that drug. I just—”
“It’s OK,” I say, smiling as I walk down the kitchen stairs and make my way over to him.
“It’s not OK. I took you against your will and I’m sorry. But—” He hesitates.
“But what?”
“But I’m glad I did it. I’m glad I brought you here too. I don’t think you should marry that guy.”
“Well,” I say, blushing. “I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”
He laughs. “Oh, that’s horrible. You have low expectations. I can do much better, I promise. Just stick with me, Wild Thing. I got you.”
He’s got me.
I don’t think anyone has ever expressed that to me before. Not once has anyone ever really had my back or best interest in mind. My mother did her best but she was sick long before she was really sick, if that makes sense. She didn’t have the power to really do well when it came to raising me.
I can’t really say she had my back though. She did leave my real father and marry the asshole. And she let him boss me. She let him act like my father when we all knew he wasn’t. She never stood up to him. Not even when she was planning on divorcing him when she got really, really sick.
So it would be normal for me to think Mason is just another asshole full of shit. And when my stepfather shows up here, and he will, Mason will back away and forget all about how he’s got me.
But I choose to believe him.
Maybe he didn’t set out to save me and maybe he’s no Prince Charming.
But he is one of the good guys.
I can feel it in my heart.
CHAPTER NINETEEN – MASON
Just getting her away from that house makes a difference. I’m sure of it. I could feel her change during the drive. She got more relaxed. She perked up and took an interest in things. She’s talking now like she’s fine, and not acting like some weird zombie.
It’s that room, I decide. Even if her stepfather did have the house decorated for her future children, that’s not how she took it. That room morphed her back into a child for some reason.
Everything about it is creepy and unsettling.
And I want to throw that backpack away. I should’ve let her drop it in the dumpster but I felt like there was more to it. I don’t know. I can’t explain it. But I’ve been hunting down bail-jumpers for more than a decade and when I get a gut feeling about something, it’s generally right. I’ve learned to listen to that feeling.
I still feel the lingering residue of that house and I have a sudden urge to take a shower. To take Lyssa into the shower with me and wash her clean.
But I don’t want her to know I know that something is off. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I know more about her than I should. I read all of her criminal records. I saw all those mugshots, read the statements from the arresting officers, the transcripts from court, and I know what her stepfather did to get her off.
I totally and completely invaded her privacy. If she wanted me to know all this stuff about her, she’d have told me. I mean, how would I like it if she went through all my personal shit without my permission while she was here?
I don’t have deep, dark skeletons in my closets, but that’s not the point.
The point is… people who care about each other don’t do that shit.
It implies that there’s no trust and I really want her to trust me.
So I take her hands and pull her close. She automatically wraps her arms around my middle and that feels amazing. I take her face in both my hands and kiss her mouth. No talking, no pushing, no expectations… just a kiss.
She kisses me back. Her lips soft and pliant. Her tongue exploring mine, but not in an urgent way or a desperate way.
Just a natural way.
“Hey,” I say, pulling out of our kiss. “You wanna take a shower with me? Hmm?” I waggle my eyebrows at her, hinting that this is no ordinary shower I’m offering up.
She nods her head and says, “Take me there.”
I lead her into my bedroom, looking back over my shoulder so I can watch her come to a conclusion about what my décor says about me.
Everything in this place is kinda dark. Kinda gray, but there’s a blue tint to everything at the same time. It’s masculine, but sophisticated.