Mason says nothing for a long moment, then offers, “You will. Sometimes ... it takes time.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “And how would you know? You’ve probably always known where home is.”
“No.” He pushes his hands into his pockets. “I thought I did. But there were times that I questioned it. I almost left. I did leave, actually, for a short while.”
“But you came back.”
“Yeah, I came back.”
“Well, all I fucking know for sure is that Kyle is not my home.”
“Maybe, for now,” he says, “that’s all you need to know.”
I glance at him as the moonlight and the glowing lantern light shifts over the curves of his face. It plays in his eyes, making me see something in their depths that’s not really there.
I know it’s just a trick of the light.
He didn’t tell me about the offer he made to June, the one that may have cost me the ability to keep leasing the building; if June didn’t have a solid buyer, maybe she would’ve leased it to me for the rest of summer.
It was a solid play on his part, making that offer. I can’t blame him.
He’s a formidable opponent, too.
But his silence tells me the truth, clearer than any words or any misconstrued spark of desire in his eyes.
To Mason Grant, I’m still the enemy.
I feel the emotions swelling up in my chest even as I try to push them down. To hold them back.
Because I’m starting to understand that I have a deeper longing to stay in Orchard Cove than I thought. And maybe it only has a little to do with the smoothie bar.
But is it just my confused feelings for Mason making me feel this way?
Is it just that I want more ofhim?
I’m really not a complicated person. Sometimes, I’m disturbingly predictable.
Ever since my biological father rejected me for his other family—his other kids—I know I’ve been hesitant to get close to anyone. To trust. To attach. To believe I’m good enough to be anyone’s first choice.
My busy, high-pressure work life—running my own business, trying to grow it, and never knowing for sure if I’m going to have enough money to keep going, to make rent, to support my life in the city—has provided me with such convenient means to avoid true intimacy.
This has never been more obvious to me than when Mason walks me all the way through his property in the moonlight without a word, down the secret path, through the secret gate, and right to my door, and he kisses me goodnight, on the forehead ... and I don’t say what I mean.
When he says “Goodnight” like it’s a question and hesitates on the step, I just let him go.
I say, “Goodnight.”
I don’t say,I want you to stay.
Chapter 19
Mason
The final day of Sunshine Fest begins early, with a sunrise yoga session on the beach led by Sierra.
I hear about it from Abby when she comes into work. I’m tied up most of the morning helping out at the community brunch, and the bar and the cider house are both busy again from opening until close.
I don’t even see Sierra all day.
