Page 20

20

KAI

I woke up the next morning to Mason sleeping in bed with me, and it was wonderful. He was still asleep—wonder of wonders. Usually, he got up earlier than I did. But it was nice, getting the opportunity to study him as he dozed.

He lay on his back, his blond hair splayed out across the pillow. The furrow between his eyes was gone, and he looked peaceful in a way I’d never seen before.

I wanted him to feel that way all the time. He’d done so much for me, and I was prepared to spend the rest of my life showing him the version of himself I saw. The version I knew was the true Mason—not the fucked-up self-image he carried around in his head.

Suddenly, he cracked an eyelid. “Are you watching me sleep?”

I flushed. “Pardon me for enjoying a moment where we’re not fighting for once.”

“Hmm. Us not fighting? That doesn’t sound right.”

I laughed. “If you want, I can yell at you for snoring.”

He lifted his head, eyes narrowing. “I don’t snore.”

“How would you know? By definition, people are asleep when they snore.”

“Because I spent years sleeping in tight quarters with other guys. They would have given me shit for snoring.”

“Maybe they were all too scared of your manly man masculinity and didn’t want to get punched.”

He snorted. “You seemed pretty into my manly man masculinity last night.”

“Fine. Then they were all too starstruck by your beauty and grace. They didn’t have the heart to tell you.”

Mason rolled onto his side and rubbed at his eyes. “I think I’m too sleepy for this conversation. I can’t tell if you’re trying to make fun of me or butter me up for something.”

“Why can’t it be both?” I grinned.

“Because I need to know if I actually snore or not. That’s a crucial part of a man’s identity. You can’t just leave me hanging.”

“Fine, fine.” I rolled my eyes. “You don’t snore. But you do steal the covers, and you can’t deny that.”

I gestured to the duvet, which Mason had somehow wrapped himself in like a burrito, then to myself—where only a tiny scrap of sheet remained, covering half my body.

“Leaving me out here to freeze all night,” I complained. “Aren’t you supposed to be saving my life? Not giving me hypothermia?”

“Mmm, so what you’re saying is, you need me to warm you up?” Mason wiggled his eyebrows. “Because I can think of several delicious ways to do that.”

We didn’t get out of bed for another forty-five minutes, and by the time I finally got into the shower, I had to run the water a little cooler than usual because I was so sweaty. When I got out, I shouted down the stairs to Mason in the kitchen.

“Hey, am I allowed to come downstairs in my underwear again, or do I still have to dress respectfully?”

“Underwear is more than fine by me,” he called back.

I grinned and headed downstairs, hair still damp. My grin widened when I saw Mason was wearing nothing but his boxers too. I walked over to the coffee pot and inhaled deeply.

“Something smells good,” I said, turning to smile at him. “Something looks good too.”

“The feeling is mutual,” he said, giving me a positively lascivious look. “You should’ve been dressing like this the whole time I was here.”

“I was trying to be respectful of my supposedly straight bodyguard’s comfort levels,” I said, taking the mug he offered and filling it with coffee. “I didn’t know I should’ve been making you suffer.”

As soon as the word was out, I clapped a hand to my mouth. “Shit. I didn’t mean like—you know. Suffer suffer. Please don’t take this as an invitation to go back down to your pit of self-loathing.”

“It’s okay. I know what you meant.”

I assessed him. “You don’t seem like you’re about to backslide, but I never can tell with you. How are you feeling today? Planning any more needless self-sacrifice?”

He smiled. A little sadly, but it was still a smile. “Not planning on it, no.”

I set my coffee down, walked over to him, and pulled him into a hug. “Good. Because that would be stupid. And you’re not stupid. Most of the time.”

Mason snorted but wrapped his good arm around me. “What a ringing endorsement.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he said softly. He exhaled and squeezed me tighter, nuzzling the top of my head. “I do.”

The day passed in the kind of blissful haze I hadn’t felt in ages—or possibly ever. It wasn’t that everything was perfect. I was still upset about the Butterfly Center and working with Carolyn on how to craft a statement for my company when I came back to work. And Mason still got on my nerves, insisting on walking Bella even with one good arm and standing up to cook more than he should. Honestly, I didn’t think he had any right to complain about Dana mothering him when he did the same thing to me.

But it was hard to be mad at him when I knew he was doing it because he cared. If anything, it made me love him more. I found myself almost saying it time and time again that day. It was on the tip of my tongue, but everything felt so new, and I didn’t want to burst this delightful little bubble too soon.

That night, we were sitting at the dining room table eating sandwiches again—because they were the only thing Mason trusted me to make—when his phone went off.

“Huh,” he said, picking it up. “That’s weird.”

“Who is it?” I asked.

“The hospital.” He shook his head. “They can’t be calling about my bill already, can they?”

He looked worried, so I reached over and rubbed circles on his back. “Probably not. But if they are, I can cover whatever you can’t. I promise.”

He threw me a surprised look, then brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

I could only hear half the conversation. Mason was mostly quiet, offering a few ‘ yes’s ’ and ‘ okays .’. Finally, he said, “Okay, yeah, I can do that. See you soon, I guess.”

When he hung up, he turned to me, clearly worried. “They want me to come back in and do another blood test and X-ray. Apparently, there was an abnormality on my first X-ray that they only noticed now. They say it’s probably nothing, just a shadow, but they want me to come to the ER to make sure I get seen immediately. That doesn’t sound like nothing, does it?”

My stomach dropped through the floor, but I did my best not to show it. “They probably know you’d have a months-long wait if you tried to make an appointment with a regular doctor right now. I’m sure it’s nothing. They’re just trying to be careful.”

Mason frowned. “Well, it’ll keep. I’ll wait until tomorrow, when I can call someone else to stay here while I’m gone.”

“They told you to come back immediately, didn’t they?” I said.

“Yeah, but like you said, it’s probably not important.”

“But what if it is?” I tried to keep things light, but as soon as he’d said the word abnormality , all I could think about was the million ways I could lose him. Maybe it really was nothing—but just in case, I popped up from my chair. “I think we should go tonight.”

“We?” Mason stood up too. “No way. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Mason, we’re going to a hospital. There’s no safer place for me to be.”

“That still doesn’t mean you should leave the house.”

“I left the house the last time you were in the hospital, and nothing happened then.”

“Yeah, you left because I wasn’t around to make you stay here.” He gave me a hard look. “I don’t want you putting yourself at risk.”

I wanted to argue, but every moment we spent discussing this was another Mason wasn’t spending at the hospital. What if he had sepsis? Or leukemia? Or some completely unknown pathogen and needed to be kept in a bubble for the rest of his life? I’d find some way to live in that bubble with him—but first, we needed to find out.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll stay here. But only if you go tonight. I don’t want you sacrificing yourself for me again.”

Mason smiled down at me, brushing his fingers along my cheek. “I would sacrifice myself for you without question, and count it a life well-spent.”

“Okay, that’s very romantic, but we’ve already discussed your weird martyr complex, and in any case, it doesn’t matter because you are going to the hospital. Now.”

It actually took another forty-five minutes for him to get there, what with him insisting on cleaning up after dinner, then driving through traffic and finding a parking spot. He texted me when he arrived, and I tried to calm myself, knowing we were one step closer to finding out whatever this ‘ probably nothing ’ really was.

I wandered around the house restlessly, unable to sit still. Was it actually probably nothing, or was that what they said to everyone on the phone so they didn’t freak out? What if it was something really serious?

What if Mason wasn’t okay? What if he used this as an excuse to push me away again? I couldn’t handle getting him back, only to lose him again.

He kept texting me. First, he reported that the receptionist at the check-in desk told him to fill out some paperwork and bring it up when he was done. Next, they’d apparently lost the record explaining why he had to come back. Mason explained the phone call, and the receptionist told him to sit back down again.

Then he was called back up and informed that the doctor who had called him was off work and not answering his cell, but they’d do the X-ray again anyway, just to be sure. The whole time, he was still in the waiting room. Apparently, the ER was slammed tonight, and they didn’t consider him an emergency. I tried to take that as a good sign. If he were really on the verge of death, they would’ve taken him back by now, right?

MASON

Why don’t you try to sleep? I’ll probably wake you up when I get home, so you might as well get some sleep now

I don’t think I can. I’m too worked up

In a good way, or a bad way?

I frowned, confused.

In what world do you get worked up in a good way?

You know. ~Worked up~

?? ?? ??

In spite of myself, I laughed.

See, this is what I mean. I’m too nervous to even be picking up on innuendo. I need it explained to me like I’m five

I seriously hope I never have to explain what an eggplant emoji means to a five-year-old. And come on, if what they saw really was serious, a doctor would’ve seen me by now

That’s what I keep telling myself, but it’s not working

Maybe you need a distraction

I wrinkled my nose.

I don’t think I could concentrate on TV right now. Or a book

Do I have to explain THIS to you too? I meant a ~distraction~

?? ?? ?? ??

I’m not sure you getting your dick out in the middle of the ER waiting room is really the best idea right now

I meant you, obviously

I’m an invalid after all. A poor sick man. Possibly dying. Don’t you want to make sure my last sight on earth is a good one?

You’re ridiculous

And you need to make up your mind about whether you’re dying or not

Dying for lack of thirst traps

??

I laughed again, shaking my head. I never would’ve expected Mason to have this playful side, but I liked it. The more I got to know him, the more I loved him.

And, I supposed, an ER waiting room probably did qualify as one of the nine circles of hell. Maybe it would make him feel better if I sent him some spicy pictures. At the very least, it was something to do.

I started simple, setting my phone on the bathroom sink and lifting my shirt, tugging my pants down off my hips. Mason responded with a thirst emoji, and I had to admit, it was gratifying.

Next, I filmed a video of myself slowly pulling my shirt off over my head, then stripping out of my pants until I was in my underwear again, since I knew how much he liked that sight now.

I cringed when I reviewed it. I thought I looked stupid, not sexy, and told him as much. Mason insisted I send it anyway, and replied with a very pleasing set of curses and promises of what he was going to do to me when he got home.

By the time they finally took him back to one of the observation bays, it was ten p.m., and I was actually starting to feel a little tired. But I closed the curtains in my bedroom and set my camera up to take more pictures anyway. Me on all fours, arching my back, ass to the camera. Me lying supine, legs spread, hand at my crotch. Me pulling my cock out of my briefs and stroking it in another video.

And as I did it, I remembered why I’d made that first video, back in college. I’d never felt particularly hot, but the idea that someone wanted to look at me naked gave me a confidence that was intoxicating. And with Mason, I knew these pictures and videos would stay between us.

They drew Mason’s blood and redid the X-ray soon after bringing him back, then left him sitting in the bay for another hour, not coming back to tell him the results. Again, I told myself that was a good sign. And this time, I was tired enough that I thought I might actually fall asleep. I told Mason, who promised to wake me up when he got back, and sent me a string of kisses.

I didn’t fall asleep right away, of course. Mason had been a good distraction, but for the past few days, I’d been checking for news stories about myself every few hours. So, lying in bed in nothing but my underwear, I pulled up a browser and typed in my name. A few more stories had been reported on the video, but thankfully there was no new information.

There were a ton of social media posts, though. People decrying me as a degenerate. People demanding I step down as head of my company. People saying the Butterfly Center was right to cut ties.

It all twisted my stomach, making my heart hurt. I tried to remind myself that I’d be fine. That I had Mason. That it would eventually blow over like he said. But it was hard to believe that when I was staring at post after post about how awful I was.

I clicked over to DC Wardrobes for the Win’s profile. They were the one organization that hadn’t cut ties with me yet—at least not officially—though they were getting plenty of mentions asking why they hadn’t. So far, Amber hadn’t responded to any of those, but I figured it was only a matter of time.

Marinating in misery, I scrolled through their timeline, checking to see if they’d mentioned me at all in the last week. They hadn’t, but they’d been doing plenty of promotion. There were pictures of multiple clients with testimonials about how they’d been helped. One interview tugged at the heartstrings—a twenty-one-year-old college student who’d been disowned by her family when she came out as trans. Sabrina Myers, her name was.

I blinked. She had the same last name as Detective Myers.

“Small world,” I murmured.

“Very small,” said an unexpected voice. “And yours is about to get even smaller.”

I looked up in shock and saw Detective Myers standing in my bedroom door, holding a gun.