Crashed (Mason Brothers 2)

“I just hope he’s okay,” she said. “What’s been going on at the house?”

“The wellness therapist came yesterday.” It was funny—I was the one watching Andrew’s house now, instead of him watching mine. “The landscapers came yesterday afternoon. This morning someone I didn’t recognize came. A woman.”

“A woman?” Evie said. “Not the housekeepers?”

“No, a solo woman.” I pressed my lips together. The woman, whoever she was, had been in her mid-twenties and pretty, carrying a bag over her shoulder. She’d been in Andrew’s house for an hour, which I knew because I’d watched for her to come out. What pretty twenty-five-year-old came to Andrew’s house for an hour? He’d never told me anything about that. Who was she, and what was she doing with him?

Evie looked as confused as I was. “I don’t know who that is,” she said. “It isn’t on the schedule.”

“I know.” I knew the schedule, too. Maybe even better than she did. “Whoever she was, she probably thought he was hot. Damn it.”

“We can fix this,” Evie said. “We need to get you two face to face, that’s all. Let him see you in person and talk it out.”

“Well, since Andrew doesn’t leave his house, that means I have to get in. Which he won’t allow.”

Evie reached across the table and patted my hand. “We’ll think of something, I promise.”

Thirty-Three

Tessa

* * *

Evie and I didn’t have to think of something clever or nefarious, it turned out. Because in the end, Andrew did the unthinkable.

He left his house.

I came home from dropping off a load of my grandmother’s old things to charity when I saw the handmade signs taped to the streetlights and stop signs on the street. Neighborhood BBQ! Games! Music! Starts at 4 PM! It was almost 4:30, and I could hear the sound of music and laughter coming from the park at the end of the street, wafting on the smell of cooking hamburgers.

I hesitated, glancing at Andrew’s house. It was the perfect excuse; I should go over there and knock on his door, wave at the security camera, ask him to go with me. Except he wouldn’t—I already knew that. He wouldn’t go with anyone, and definitely not with me.

Still, I was lonely, and the neighbor women I’d met on my first day here were nice. I didn’t feel like sitting alone in my grandmother’s house, thinking about Andrew, even though the air conditioning was working now. It sounded too pathetic. So I put my keys in my pocket and followed the signs down the street.

The music and voices got louder, the barbecue smells stronger. It was a beautiful day, hot and breezy. I was almost at the park when Amy, one of the neighbor women, noticed me and came down the walk toward me. “Tessa!” she called out. “You came! Welcome to the neighborhood party!”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling at her. I’d come a long way from L.A., but I realized I didn’t mind.

“Let me grab you a drink.” She led me to the edge of the park, to a little spot under some trees where there was a line of coolers. “Jan, this is Tessa, remember?” I waved at Jan, who was standing over one of the coolers holding a plastic glass filled with white wine. The two women looked at each other while Amy poured me a glass. “It’s so exciting,” Jan said. “Did you see?”

“See what?” I sipped my wine. It was cheap white wine from a cooler, drunk from a plastic cup, but somehow it was delicious. “What’s going on?”

“Your neighbor,” Amy said. “Andrew Mason. He’s here.”

I lowered my glass and stared at her. “Andrew is here?”

“You’re on a first-name basis?” Jan said, her eyes wide. “Do tell.”

“Oh, my God.” I turned and looked at the crowd, which was a few dozen strong. Sure enough, on the other side of the park, I could see Andrew’s wheelchair. He had his back to me, and he was in the shadow of one of the big trees. A little boy was talking to him, gesturing excitedly about something.

He was here. Andrew was here. No one had asked him or coerced him. He just came.

I knew him. I knew how he was, how he hated gatherings like this. How he hated leaving his house at all. Why had he come?

“He’s so funny,” Amy said, gushing. “And so smart. He isn’t an asshole at all. Did you know he draws comics? My kids have gone nuts for him. My son thinks he’s actually Batman.”

“Plus he’s gorgeous,” Jan said.

“I know.” I watched as the boy said something to Andrew, Andrew replied, and the boy ran off, excited.