Page 107 of Off Plan

“You’re a fucking idiot,” I whispered to myself.

But as I lay in bed that night, I wasn’t sure whether the truly stupid thing was letting Mason into my life… or letting him go.

Chapter Eighteen

Mason

“Mason! Hey, Mase! Doc Bloom!”

Beale’s boots clomped down the sidewalk after me as I left Bean Me Up two days after Fenn and I had very reasonably, very logically ended ourthing, and I was coping just fine. In fact, I’d hardly noticed the lack of Fenn Reardon in my life at all, which was pretty darn spectacular for a guy who’d spent months on the couch after his last breakup.

I mean, I might possibly not have slept perfectly. Or felt like eating. I might have had to delete Fenn’s number from my phone to prevent myself from angrily texting him once or thrice, and I very pettily had not returned his shirt or the phone charger he’d left in my room. But other than those tiny, minor things, I was going about my business, living my life on Whispering Key the same as I ever had… and the more I thought about it, thefinerI felt.

Fine, fine, fine. So much fine! Veritableriversof fine. Entireoceansof fine. A Mariana Trench of total, absolute…fine.

But that didn’t mean I was ready for a one-on-one with Fenn’s cousin.

I gripped my iced coffee and walk-jogged a little faster, though the sun was turned up to eleventy billion and the humidity had little rivulets of sweat rolling down my temples.

“Mason! Hey!” Beale ran up and gave me a gigantic smile, looking dry and fresh as a daisy despite his heavy boots and long pants. It was fuckingunnatural. He slowed to walk beside me. “Couldn’t you hear me calling you?”

“Oh, were you? Sorry! No. I was just, um… enjoying my coffee so much—” I took a giant sip of the brew in my hand and nearly spat it out.The fuck was this shit? “Mmmm.”

“Wow, really? ’Cause I’m pretty sure that’s my drink, and Scotty gave me your drink instead!” He held a plastic cup in his enormous hand clearly labeled with my name, and his smile intensified. “Hardly anyone enjoys my yerba mate and hemp milk!”

“How weird,” I said, yanking the correct drink out of Beale’s hand and shoving the devil juice back at him. “Thanks for sorting it out.” I arranged my face into an approximation of a smile and kept walking.

“Wait!” Beale said, and I rolled my eyes before he could see me. “Hey, so, I wanted to chat with you for other reasons, too.”

“Really?” I asked politely. “Medical reasons?”

“Well. Not exactly. It’s actually about, um… Fenn.”

I nodded and resumed walking. “Does Fenn have a medical condition?”

“No? Sort of.” Beale stepped in front of me and started walking backward. “Isn’t mental health a part of overall health?” he asked earnestly.

“It definitely is. You should contact someone who specializes in that and ask them about your concerns.”

“Mason, please. He’s been a wreck and you—”

I held up a hand, gauging the distance between where we stood at the edge of the town center, and the clinic, which was four blocks away, and the length of Beale’s stride compared to mine.Too far to outrun him.

Yeah, okay, fourfeetwould have been too far to outrun him.

“I’d love to chat with you more, Beale, but I have to…” My gaze shifted around us, and I caught sight of the white fence just beside us and the little, white Victorian house-turned-bookstore beyond. “I have to go to Wynott’s right now. It’s urgent. I’ll talk to you later!” I pushed open the fence and started up the white pea gravel pathway.

“Mason, please! Just hear me out.” Beale followed me up the path, and only at that moment did it occur to me that he was actually allowed to follow me into the bookstore.

Okay, so maybe my river offinewas running just a wee bit low.

“I would, Beale!” I called over my shoulder as I hurried up the porch steps. “I would, but… I need to check something vital.”

“In the bookstore?” Beale demanded. “But—”

I paused with my hand on the knob of the red front door and pressed a finger to my lips. “Shhhhh, Beale! No talking! You need to be quiet in a bookstore! It’s disrespectful.”

“Mason, that’s librar—”