And why not? It wasn’t like we’d slowly gotten to this moment. We were practically dry humping at the lookout point off the highway exit. I had built up Mason’s body to expect sex in every way, and he’d had every reason to believe that was going to happen.
The more I thought about it, the more that man deserved kudos. He had no idea just how much he’d meant to me by choosing not to do anything or say anything that could have—again, justifiably—put me down further. It made me like him even more, even if I was now terrified it would be years, maybe forever, before I could finally have sex again.
Was it really too much to ask my overactive, hyper-crazed mind to just settle for a minute so I could enjoy being with him?
In time, Rachel, in time.
I smiled, walked out of the bedroom, and came to the kitchen. Mason had pulled out some vegetables and some chicken. It was going to be a pretty basic meal, but honestly, that was probably for the best.
“Hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I can always call a pizza in if you’d prefer that. We can just sit on the couch and relax.”
“No, I want to see you cook,” I said with a gentle smile. “No one’s ever cooked for me.”
“Not even your parents?”
I shook my head.
“I love them, but cooking is not their forte. They usually just got the microwavable meals or ordered takeout.”
“Not even Brock?”
I laughed.
“We were teenagers; I’d be surprised if his cooking skills went beyond dialing the local Pizza Hut number.”
Mason smirked. I suppose him having cooking skills added another notch in his cap.
“Well, don’t think this is anything special, it—”
His phone rang. He looked down, and I could see the lettering on the phone. It looked like Brock was calling.
“One sec,” he said, but he didn’t sound especially pleased to have to answer the call.
Still, for how good the night was, I figured he was just annoyed that Brock had interrupted the mood.
“Brock, you better…”
He stepped outside for a moment, but I didn’t think anything of it. I was in too good of a mood, of all things, to think about the worst. Yeah, I’d had a terrible flashback.
But I was still here. Mason was still here. We were still trying to feel each other out.
Maybe there was reason to believe, over time, things would get better.
And then Mason walked inside, a menacing scowl on his face. He looked like hell had just come to Santa Maria. And I had every reason to fear it had.
“What’s going on?” I said, not really wanting to know the answer.
“That was Brock,” he said. “The Bandits just killed Sheriff Davis.”
Mason
“Found him dead right outside SMAR. They killed him and left his body outside the fucking clubhouse. If you’re with anyone, don’t tell them that. Just tell them to be safe and stay inside.”
My nostrils flared with anger. The Bandits hadn’t just killed the sheriff. They’d taunted us. It was like they wanted this town to devolve into anarchy and madness.
And you know what? I was more than willing to give it to them. I was more than willing to find them, kill them, and watch them squirm and suffer. If they were willing to kill the sheriff, a man that had once turned a blind eye to their activities, they were certainly willing to kill anyone else in Santa Maria.
Maybe we needed anarchy to purge the cancer that was the Bandits.
