But Mason didn’t give me a generic answer.
“I almost didn’t become a firefighter,” he said, his thumb tracing absent patterns on the back of my hand. “I was going to be an accountant. Had a full ride to a business school and everything. My dad was thrilled.”
I blinked. “An accountant? You?”
He laughed—a real laugh, low and warm. “I know. Can you picture me in a cubicle?”
I absolutely could not. Mason was built for action, for movement, for running into burning buildings and hauling people to safety. The idea of him hunched over a spreadsheet was almost comical.
“What changed your mind?”
His smile faded a little. “There was a fire. Apartment complex near my college. I was walking back from a party and saw the smoke. By the time the trucks got there, people were hanging out of windows, screaming.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “I couldn’t just stand there. I went in. Helped get a couple kids out before the firefighters took over.”
“Mason.” My voice came out softer than I intended. “That’s…you could have been killed.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged like it was nothing, but I could see the weight of the memory in his eyes. “But those kids made it out. And I knew, standing there covered in soot while the building burned…I knew I couldn’t spend my life staring at numbers. I had to do something that mattered.”
My heart was doing something complicated in my chest. This huge, quiet, unexpectedly sweet man had given up a stable future because he couldn’t stand by when people needed help.
“Your dad must have been pissed,” I said.
“He didn’t talk to me for two years.” Mason’s voice was matter-of-fact, but I caught the ghost of old pain. “He’s come around since. Mostly. But it took a while.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I made the right choice.” He squeezed my hand. “Your turn.”
Right. Fair was fair.
I thought about what to tell him. Something real. Something I’d never told anyone else. The problem was, my deepest secrets weren’t dramatic or noble. They were just…embarrassing.
“I’ve never been anywhere,” I finally said. “Like, anywhere. I’ve lived in Wildwood Valley my whole life. The farthest I’ve ever traveled is Knoxville, and that was for a dentist appointment.”
Mason tilted his head. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“There is when you’re twenty-three and you’ve never seen the ocean.” I let out a breath. “I have this list. Places I want to go. Things I want to do. But I’m always saving for something—new tires, rent, my mom’s medication. The list just keeps getting longer and my savings account keeps getting emptier.”
“What’s at the top of the list?”
I smiled despite myself. “The Grand Canyon. I know it’s cliché, but I’ve wanted to see it since I was a kid. There’s this picture in my mom’s old National Geographic—the sunset hitting the rocks, all those colors. It doesn’t even look real.”
“It’s not cliché.” Mason’s voice was quiet. “It’s beautiful. I went once, when I was nineteen. Stood at the rim at sunrise and cried like a baby.”
I laughed. “You did not.”
“Hand to God.” He held up his free hand. “Something about it just…gets you. Makes you feel small in a good way. Like your problems aren’t as big as you thought.”
The way he described it—I could almost see it. Almost feel the vastness of it, the ancient quiet. And suddenly I wanted to be there, standing next to him, watching the sunrise paint those impossible colors across the rock.
Which was crazy. I’d known this man for all of an hour. Well, technically I’d known him for days, but we’d only actuallytalkedfor an hour.
But it didn’t feel like an hour. It felt like something bigger was happening. Something that had been building since the first night he walked into the roadhouse and I felt the air change.
“Your turn again,” I said. “Something else. Something deeper.”
He thought for a moment. “I’m terrified of ending up alone.”
The admission hung in the air between us. I hadn’t expected that—not from him. He seemed so solid, so self-contained.
