Mason tells me I should wash up before I try to fix dinner. Then he washes up while I fix a quick dinner of grilled egg and ham sandwiches.
I’ve cleaned the dishes and am wiping the counter when Mason comes back inside after his evening chores.
I feel him standing behind me even though I haven’t turned around. I’m still wiping the counter.
“Y’okay?” he asks gruffly.
“Y-yes.”
I’m not okay. Nothing is okay. My whole world has been burned down to embers in less than two days.
“You did good,” he goes on. “Back on the road. You did real good. You fought back. You kept us alive.”
A few tears slide down my cheeks as I turn around. “You did good too. I’m sorry you had to kill them.”
He makes a hoarse sound and drops his gaze.
“Was that the first time you killed anyone?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry. Do you… do you feel bad about it?”
“No. Not for killing them. I thought it would be harder, but I didn’t even… It had to be done. Like instinct. Like Bill.” He scratches Bill’s head, since the dog is standing right beside him, looking hopefully for the appearance of more food. “They were gonna hurt you, and I didn’t even hesitate. But…” He swallows visibly.
“But what?”
“But it makes me… it makes me think your sister might be right. It’s not great here. It’s not safe. Even though we felt safe, maybe we weren’t. And I want…” He makes a weird, raspy inhale, his face twisting briefly. “I want the best for you. I want you to be safe and free and happy. I want you to have everything in life that’s been kept from you. I want you to have everything you want.”
I’m crying again. “I want that for you too.”
“But this isn’t a good world. This isn’t a world where everyone can get that. So if… if only one of us gets it, then it needs to be you. I want it to be you.”
I’m bawling now, wiping the tears as they fall. “But… But…” I choke and can’t manage any more words.
Mason is feeling something too. His features keep twisting like he’s fighting against strong emotion. “I love… I’ve loved our life here. I’ve loved having you as my wife. But you deserve more than that, so you need to go where you can get it.”
He looks like he’s going to turn away but then gives a little jerk and grabs my head with both his hands. He leans down far enough to press his lips against mine.
I make a silly sound in my throat as pleasure and emotion rise up together inside me, filling my chest, my throat, and then my head. Fueled by that surge of feeling, I reach for his shoulders and stretch my body upward to return the kiss.
My lips soften as his move urgently against them. He smells strong. Familiar.Mason.
I want him so much—exactly like this—that I cling with my hands and mouth even as he draws away. His jaw is tense as he manages to step back from me. I’m left shaky and disoriented, wrapping my arms around my middle as if I can hold myself together.
I have no idea what I would have said had I been capable of speech. I’m not. And Mason doesn’t stay to hear it anyway.
With one more jerky nod and quick, hungry look at my face, he ducks his head and turns around.
He says over his shoulder, “Knock on the door when you’re ready to leave, and I’ll get you there safe before midnight.”
Then he disappears into the bedroom and closes the door.
12
A few hours later,I’ve thought and internally debated and cried all I can cry, and my decision is clear.
It was clear from the very beginning.
