I was acting like . . . my father. My entire life, I’d tried so hard to emulate the man who raised me. He was a solid man. A man who was careful and thoughtful but strong. Yet in one moment, I forgot all that and became the man whose blood ran through my veins.
I didn’t want to be this man. But I understood him. I hadn’t even lost Reese, and I was going crazy. What if I were faced with actually losing her? Could I recover from that? Would I become the man I looked like instead of the man who had taught me everything?
“I have to see her,” I said, feeling helpless.
“Yeah, well, your momma will be here soon enough with her, and I wouldn’t want to be you when she gets here. She’s not happy with you.”
I wasn’t happy with me, either. I’d let Reese down, but I’d let me down, too. This man wasn’t me.
My mother’s truck came into view, and I took off running toward it. I wasn’t waiting for Reese to get to me. I needed to see her now. Momma stopped when she saw me getting closer. I didn’t even make eye contact with my mother; I kept my eyes on Reese. Her face was red and splotchy from crying, and that was all because of me.
If it was possible to truly hate yourself, I did.
Reese
Once the tears started, I couldn’t stop.
After Mase left, sobs wracked my body, and I doubled over. He’d left me. I’d messed up. I couldn’t lose Mase.
All I had known to do was to call Maryann. Staying at work was impossible. Telling Piper what was wrong with me was also impossible. She was gone for the day, and I would have to apologize later. Right now, I had to get to Mase.
Maryann hopped out of the truck and rushed to me. “What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling me into a hug. I clung to her and cried harder.
Having any kind of motherly affection undid me. It wasn’t something I knew, but I craved it. Maryann’s arms around me made my tears come harder. Because I’d let her son down. She was comforting me and didn’t know what I had done.
“Shhh, now, it can’t be all that bad. Let’s get you back home, and you can tell me what happened. I know my son, and when he knows you’re this upset, he’s going to be furious with himself.”
No, he wouldn’t. He was furious already. With me.
Maryann led me to her truck, and I got in obediently. Once she was in the driver’s seat and pulling out of the Stouts’ ranch, she glanced over at me. “Can you tell me what happened?”
I could, but would she hate me, too? Probably. I hated me. I should have told him after the first time. I shouldn’t have kept it a secret.
“I let Cap- . . . River Kipling bring me lunch several times. I didn’t ask him to, he just—” I let out a small sob. “He would just show up with food, and I would eat with him. I don’t even like him most of the time. He’s arrogant. But I have to file paperwork that he brings me.”
“And Mase is upset because River brings you food?”
“No . . . yes. He’s mad because I never told him. I was afraid he’d be upset. And I kept telling River to stop. Sometimes he just came with paperwork for me to file, but a couple of times, he brought food. I should have told Mase.”
Maryann didn’t say anything at first. I began to think I’d made her mad at me, too. “Do you like River Kipling in any way other than as a friend?”
I shook my head. “No! I don’t even like him as a friend. He assumes too much and ignores the fact that I don’t want him to be in my office. I love Mase.”
Maryann nodded. “I know you do, sweetheart. But it appears my son has let jealousy take control of him. It’s not like him, but then, that just means you’re different from any other woman who has been in his life. Give him time to cool down, and then he’ll fix this.”
“He was so angry with me,” I whispered.
“No, he was scared of losing you. He was terrified that he wasn’t enough for you. He wasn’t angry at you.”
He wasn’t enough for me? He knew better than that. The look in his eyes was definitely anger. But I didn’t argue with his mother. She would see soon enough. He wasn’t going to be happy to see me. I had to explain. Getting all tongue-tied and panicking wasn’t going to save us.
“I never should have gotten a job,” I said, thinking that none of this would have happened if I’d just stayed home.
Maryann made a tsking sound. “Don’t start that, girl. You deserve a life. Mase doesn’t have to be your world. He can be the most important part of your world, but you need to live, Reese. You need to feel accomplished and make your mark on this earth. I love my son, but I don’t want you giving up your dreams for him.”
I let her words sink in, but they didn’t matter. “But he’s in all of my dreams.”
She nodded. “As he should be. But they’re your dreams. You have control over them, not his jealousy. He knows that, too. He just needs to get his head straight.”
We drove past the gate of the ranch, and I wiped my damp face as I prepared to face him. I was so used to seeing him smiling at me and wanting me. I didn’t know how to deal with a Mase who didn’t want to even look at me.
“There he is,” Maryann said, slowing the truck. “Guess I should stop if the fool’s gonna come running straight at me.”
I glanced up to see Mase running toward the truck and panicked. Was he going to demand that I leave? Oh, God. What if he wouldn’t let me on his property? I had to explain myself.
Maryann opened the truck door and started around the front to meet her son. I death-gripped the seat as if he was going to open the truck and yank me out.
When Mase saw his mother, he shot her a look. She said something to him and then slapped him on the back of the head, before walking toward the house and leaving me alone in her truck, just sitting there. I didn’t want her to leave.
Mase took several long strides to my side of the truck and jerked the door open. I closed my eyes tightly and held on, thankful that I was wearing my seat belt. It wasn’t much, but it was a form of protection.
A warm hand touched the side of my face, and my eyes snapped open to see Mase looking at me intently. His eyes weren’t full of the anger I’d seen earlier. He looked . . . sorry. Worried.
“I am so sorry,” he whispered. “So goddamn sorry.”
Tears of relief filled my eyes, even though I didn’t think I had any more tears to cry.
“I didn’t . . . I don’t even like him. I try to get him to leave. I’m rude to him. He just doesn’t care.”