Page 35 of Protected by the Sheriff (Magnolia Falls #2)

Mason

H aving to tell Olivia that her mother was dead was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

The look on her face was pure devastation.

She feels guilty, as if what happened to her mother was her fault.

It wasn’t. Knox and his uncle preyed on a woman they thought they could bully into selling so they could turn her property into a high-end resort.

When Olivia didn’t give in, they went to extremes to get their way.

No normal person would have ever expected Richards to find Olivia’s mom and conjure up a fake relationship with her, all to get to Liv.

There’s no way she could have stopped it from happening.

After a few days, Olivia gets released from the hospital with stitches in her head and lots of scrapes and bruises.

Her morning sickness is challenging, but she’s so thankful our baby survived the car crash that she refuses to complain even a little bit.

She says she’s just grateful. Every time she gets sick, she knows our baby is growing and developing, saying it’s a good sign.

Her sonogram revealed she’s only eight weeks along, so we are still early, but the doctor seems to think the pregnancy was unaffected by the crash.

We go to the funeral home and make arrangements for Merit’s funeral, and Olivia decides to cremate her and put her mother and father’s ashes together. We plan to scatter them in the mountains of Magnolia Falls so they will always be close to her.

Tons of people show up for the service. All strangers to me, but they all knew and loved Olivia’s family. Most are from Summersville.

I stand beside my woman, holding her while she cries, and people come in droves to hug her and give her their condolences. I feel helpless. There isn’t anything more I can do to ease her pain, and it kills me.

Since the accident, Olivia only speaks when she has to, and she stays in bed a lot.

Most of the time I have to remind her to eat, telling her the baby needs the nutrients, and thankfully, she doesn’t fight me on it.

Liv does her best to take care of our baby but it’s obvious how depressed she is.

It’s been three weeks since her mother died and she’s still barely functioning.

She hasn’t showered in three days, and sleeps unless I force her out of bed.

Marching into our bedroom, I open and slam some drawers, grabbing clothes. “Get up, Liv.”

“I don’t want to. I just want to sleep,” she mutters.

“No, baby. Now!” Despite the harshness of my command, Olivia doesn’t stir.

Ripping back the covers, I grab her and pick her up, carrying her bridal-style straight to the bathroom, where I turn on the shower.

“Strip.”

“I don’t want to, Mason, please.”

“Baby girl, I love you, but you can’t keep lying in bed and shutting out the world.”

“Why not? It hurts too bad to be awake,” she whispers.

Grabbing her chin, I force her to meet my stare. “I know it hurts, baby girl. That’s why I’m here to help you. It will get better, but you have to live for our baby, and for me. Do you remember what it felt like when your mom was grieving your dad? How she shut down?”

“Of course I do.”

“How did it make you feel?”

Her brows furrow and she replies, “Terrible. Like I was invisible and not important enough for her to even see me.”

I stay silent but raise an eyebrow at her. It takes a minute for Olivia to understand. Her hand covers her mouth. “Oh my God, Mason. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Olivia starts sobbing; her face, once beautiful, now marred by a mask of heavy guilt. “I didn’t realize I was inflicting the same pain on you that my mom inflicted on me.”

Bringing her into my arms and holding her tight, I kiss her forehead. “Olivia, I love you and I know it hurts, but you have to live. Live for me and more importantly, live for our child. Your mom would want you to do that.”

Olivia gives me a nod and starts stripping off her clothes as I heat the shower to a comfortable temperature. I slowly wash and condition her hair, taking extra care to be gentle, even adding forehead kisses every time I get the chance.

Once we are both clean and dressed, we go to the diner in town. I think it’s best for Olivia to get out of the house. We order burgers and fries with all the fixings, and Liv even gets a chocolate milkshake. It’s the most she’s eaten in over two weeks.

“It’s time I go back to work,” she says around a mouthful of fries.

“Do you want to plan it around my days off so I can spend the day with you at the shop?”

Thinking about it, she gives me a grateful nod.

“Maybe just the first day. I want to hire another artist, maybe two, so that when I go out on maternity leave to have the baby, there will be plenty of people to handle the tattoos. Hadley has the piercings under control but with just me, there’s only the guest tattoo artist to cover for me.

I’ve already asked more of him than I should have. ”

“Sounds like a great idea, Crayola.” She smiles at my use of her nickname. I haven’t used it lately because who the hell calls someone Crayola when they are grieving?

Olivia hasn’t been wearing colorful clothes, or any makeup at all.

My woman is beautiful without it, but I know it’s not her.

It’s not what makes her happy. A few days later when she starts wearing brightly colored shit and several different loud shades of eye shadow, I know she’s going to be okay.

It’s going to be tough, and she’ll have to take things one day at a time, but she’s going to get through this.

“Let’s get married,” Olivia says, shocking me to the core.

“Did you just propose to me, Liv? That’s my job.”

“I wasn’t proposing. Just saying, I’d like to have the same last name as our baby and I’ve been thinking about names a lot.”

“Baby, I’m ready to marry you today, now, this second. I’m just shocked you brought it up, especially when you tried so hard to resist my advances.”

“I want my entire family to have the same last name, Mason.”

Pulling my cell phone out, I call a local judge I know in town. After setting up an appointment with him, I call Declan, Savannah, and my mom. I ask Savannah to get in touch with Piper and Hadley to include them in the plans.

“Meet us there in an hour,” I say before ending the call with Savannah, quickly firing off a group text with the address.

“Come on, Crayola. We have an appointment. Put on your nicest dress.”

Olivia looks confused but does what I ask. I assume she thinks I’m taking her out to a nice dinner, and she would be right, but before that we have something important to do.