He’d been wrong.
Thank God, he’d been wrong.
He’d touched his screen, was typing in his password, when Harper caught up to him in the hall just outside the classroom door.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” he said, typing the password a second time.
“Mason.” They weren’t even out of the building yet, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “It’s okay to feel things,” she told him.
“She’s a great kid,” he responded, giving his voice enough strength to convince her that he really was fine. “I’d like to be a regular part of her life…assuming Bruce is okay with that.”
It had to be up to Bruce.
“We’ll work it out somehow,” she said. “You’re her uncle—”
She broke off and they stared at each other. “No matter what, you’re related to her, part of her family. I’ll tell Bruce that since you and he are talking, it’s time for Brianna to get to know her uncle. If he wants that to happen on his schedule, in his presence, that’s okay, but at least you’ll see her.”
Every time he tried to shut the door on things he couldn’t have, she opened it up again. Did she know how much she was messing with him?
Or how grateful he was to her?
Nodding his thanks, he started to walk again. And to type in his password for the third time. Plenty of people had his number and would text rather than call. All people associated with work.
He got into his phone. Saw the time. “I’m due to get Grace in another ten minutes. I’ll head up there now,” he said, leaving Harper to get on with her day.
Too much time with her and he was going to do something he’d regret. Like take her in his arms and kiss her in a way that showed her there’d never be another woman for him.
“I’ll walk up with you,” she was saying, beside him on the sidewalk. He opened his text app.
The lab had texted. Probably either telling him the results would be in later that afternoon, or that they might not have them until Monday. Wallace, the tech who’d said he’d put Mason’s job first, had told him he’d pass on the results as soon as possible. He wasn’t going to make him wait any longer than necessary.
Mason had known the man a long time. They’d worked together on several cases—one involving a psycho who’d turned out to be a serial killer of young women. And Mason had told him what the current test was for. Who it was for.
He clicked to find out when he’d know.
Read the message.
Hand shaking, he almost dropped his phone.
“Mason?” Harper was looking at him. He’d stopped walking, staring at his phone. He could see it all happening as though watching himself from outside. Could hear Harper’s voice.
There were residents in the distance. He saw two of them walking together, while another, on a different path, was walking alone.
Harper touched his hand—the one holding the phone. Her hand was soft. Warm.
“Mason, what is it?” He would have showed her the phone, but didn’t want to dislodge her hand. He looked at her, not moving at all. Saw her as he’d never seen her before—connected to him.
Part of him.
The only woman he’d ever really wanted.
The one woman he could never have. Because his brother had loved her first. And loved her still.
“I just became a father,” he said.
* * *
SHE WAS AT WORK. With victim residents relying on her to keep them safe. As Harper’s reality receded, she focused on the hard sidewalk beneath her feet. On the job. The women moving around the shelter. On the warmth of the sun on her skin.
She started to walk. When she felt Mason move beside her, she stopped. Turning, she looked up at him and couldn’t prevent the pressure of tears in her eyes.
There was so much to say, none of which she felt she could say.
He pulled her into an alcove, and then another, the outdoor entry to a room used for music lessons during the week. They couldn’t be seen. Or heard. And she still couldn’t speak.
She could only continue to look at him, pouring her heart into that gaze. Keeping her needs to herself, as she thought about him.
“Congratulations,” she told him, not sure if he was glad or not. Not sure if the word was appropriate or not. She was congratulating a man who’d just found out he’d lost the first four years of his firstborn’s life.