Page 15 of Shattered Promise (Avalon Falls #4)

MASON

The field behind the house hums with heat and cicadas.

Midday sun baking down on the overgrown stretch like it’s trying to smother anything brave enough to walk through it.

I stand at the edge of it anyway, one hand braced on the porch railing, the other swiping at the sweat gathering at the back of my neck.

Theo’s snoring soft and steady in the bouncer beside me, one leg twitching in his sleep.

It’s been two days.

Two days since Abby disappeared over the hill like a ghost. Two days since she handed me my son, told me thank you, and slipped away with her hood up and her shoulders high. Like she was bracing for impact.

I’ve replayed that moment too many times. How her fingers brushed my forearm when she passed Theo over, light and quick, like even that was more contact than she meant to allow. How her eyes wouldn’t quite meet mine.

I’ve walked the trail behind the house twice a day since then. Once in the morning, then again near sunset. Just in case she decided to sit by the creek again.

She hasn’t.

Theo’s nap schedule has gone to shit again. Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the one who can’t settle. The one who has been pacing too close to the edge of something I can’t quite name.

I glance toward the far edge of the property—the side field where the grass grows long and the fence line disappears into bramble and wild daisies.

A shallow rise cuts across the land, curving just enough to hide what’s beyond it.

Pretty sure her cabin’s tucked just on the other side, nestled low where the slope evens out into flat ground. I bet it’s not even a half-mile away.

Out of sight, but never out of mind.

I haven’t gone over there, even though I’ve thought about it a hundred times. I’m trying to do the right thing, to give her space. But I’m just about at the end of my rope, patience for waiting her out growing too low.

I have half a mind to storm across the field right now and make sure she’s okay. But an invisible string keeps me on my porch. Not because I’m afraid of anything. Not really.

Except maybe snakes.

I’ve done enough fencing work to know the difference between a stick and a rattler, but that doesn’t mean I want to test it. I’ve got a healthy respect for anything venomous and fast.

I’m not scared , I’m just not stupid.

And storming over to Abby Carter’s house like I have some kind of claim over her time feels supremely stupid.

I tug my phone out of my pocket and pull up our thread. The last text I sent stares back at me, unread. I look at it long enough that the letters start to blur together. My fingers twitch with forced stillness, and I type out a text before I let myself second-guess it.

Me: Text me back or my next text is to Beau.

Thirty seconds. That’s all it takes, and the screen lights up with her incoming text.

Abby: Wow, Mason. Really?

A grin pulls at my mouth—sharp and immediate, so damn unexpected it nearly startles me. I can picture her brows reaching toward her hair and her lips parting with an incredulous glare. She’s fuckin’ cute when she looks at me like that.

The thought pounces across my consciousness before I can shut it down, and my smile falls a little. Those kinds of thoughts are dangerous.

Me: Good. You’re alive. I was about to brave the snake pit to find your mysterious cabin.

It’s a stretched truth. Going to her cabin to demand things from her is one thing, but texting about Theo is safe. And if she comes here? Then that’s something else entirely.

Abby: Snake pit?

Me: The field.

Abby: You mean the meadow of clover and daisies?

Me: Two feet of death and danger.

Abby: I didn't know you were so dramatic, Mason. Are you sure you weren't secretly a theater major in college?

Too easy. Too familiar. And that’s what fucks me up a little bit. It hits in that soft place just under my ribs—the place that's only ever belonged to two people.

Theo shifts in his bouncer, letting out a tiny sigh but doesn’t wake up. I glance down at him. My thumb hovers over the screen as an idea starts to bloom.

Me: Theo hasn’t napped right since you were here.

The three dots pop up, then vanish, then pop up again.

Abby: Maybe he just missed me.

Me: Maybe I did too.

I shouldn’t have said that, but I don’t take it back either. I type out another text quickly, hitting send before I read it over.

Me: The parenting blogs say he’s in a sleep regression, but I don’t know how to fix it. Any chance you want to come help me?

There. The offer is out there now.

Abby: I’ll be right there.

I scrub a hand across the back of my neck and glance at Theo again. Still asleep, looking so peaceful and so fuckin’ perfect it makes my chest squeeze tight.

Damn it.

I know what I’m about to do. It’s the one thing you’re never supposed to do. I’m going to wake up my sleeping baby.

But what other option do I have? I invited her over to help me fix nap strikes and sleep regression. She can’t walk in and see him snoozing like a fucking cherub. She’ll never believe me. And worse, she’ll never trust me again.

“Sorry, buddy,” I murmur as I unclip the buckle on his little seat, “but we’ve got a role to play.”

Theo stirs as I lift him out. He lets out a soft whimper, then a little grumble.

I brace myself for the incoming cries. I bounce him a little as I go inside and grab two glasses of the iced tea lemonade I made earlier.

I set them on the table and sink into a chair just in time to see her approaching from the right.

Sunlight glances off her hair, loose around her shoulders. She’s in jean shorts and another soft hoodie, sleeves pushed to her elbows, with purple oversized sunglasses covering half her face. Those are new.

Something loosens in my chest at the sight of her. Something dangerous.

She slows at the steps, gaze skipping over the porch, past me, then to Theo. Her face breaks into something so real and unguarded, I nearly forget how to speak.

“I heard there was a sleep emergency,” she says, mock-serious, but her eyes soften the punchline.

“Situation’s dire,” I deadpan. “We’re at code red.”

She climbs the steps, less wary than before, and stands close enough for the scent of her shampoo to edge out the sun-warmed wood. Theo blinks up, dazed and heavy-lidded, and Abby’s whole demeanor shifts. She crouches to his level and pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head.

“Hey, buddy,” she says, voice low and gentle. “Rough day?” He gives a gummy, uncertain smile, then tucks his head into my shoulder like he’s shy.

I can’t help it; I grin. “He remembers you.”

She doesn’t look at me, but her mouth curves into a small, private smile as she stands up.

“Thirsty?” I gesture toward the glasses of iced tea lemonade.

“Sure.”

She snags one of the glasses, and I know I should tell her I already drank out of that one, but I don’t.

Instead, I watch as her pink glossy lips rest against the rim of the glass, almost exactly where my mouth was not even five minutes ago.

It feels like some kind of fucked-up six-degrees-of-separation kiss, and my dick twitches at the thought.

I shut that shit down, hard . I’m not a goddamn animal. I can be normal about this. I can be totally platonic with the woman who’s occupied too many of my waking thoughts over decades.

She looks to the side, and her bruise stares at me with its own accusation. It looks a little better today. Still dark and angry, but the edges are a little softer. It still makes me want to put my fist through drywall.

“Thanks for coming,” I practically grunt out.

“I couldn’t let him suffer,” she teases, taking another drink.

Her gaze settles on Theo again. “Does he have a swing? You can’t do it for too long, because then you’ll have a whole different problem on your hands.

But it might help for those desperate days,” she says, and only glances up at me after she says it, like she’s not sure she’s allowed to ask.

God, I’ve fucking missed her.

“Nah, we tried it once when he was little, but he didn’t like it. He likes the glider in his room though.”

“So, what’s your plan?” she asks, setting the glass on the table and looking at Theo while she talks to me. “You can’t just keep sacrificing your own sleep to the nap gods forever.”

I shrug. “I figure I’ll sleep when he’s in college.”

Out of nowhere, Theo lunges for her. She laughs as she catches him against her chest. A real one, bright and unguarded. And fuck me, am I getting turned on by her laugh?

“Is this okay?” She looks at me as she cradles my son against her chest. It looks like he’s hugging her, his face tucked into the crook of her neck, underneath that curtain of hair.

I watch them for a second too long and feel something shift behind my ribs—something slow and stupid and warm.

I have to clear my throat twice before I can respond. “I’ve got some work to do,” I say suddenly, pushing to my feet. “Mind watching him for a bit?”

Her brows lift. “Oh, uh, sure ?”

I don’t wait for more. I know she’s more than capable, and I’m only a hundred feet away if she needs me.

I’m already stepping off the porch, boots thudding heavy on the stairs, like distance might steady something in me. Or maybe I don’t trust myself to stay still with her this close.

“What do I do if he falls asleep again?” she calls after me.

“Put him in his crib,” I shout back. “Or hold him. Whatever you want.”

“And if he won’t nap?”

“I’ve got faith in you, Trouble,” I say over my shoulder. The old nickname rolls off my tongue all too easy.

I stretch my neck and crack my knuckles, any attempt to shake the affect she has one me loose as I walk to the barn.

She’s Beau’s sister , I remind myself. She shouldn’t be in a cabin alone. Theo likes her, and he’s got that sleep regression thing happening. That’s all this is.

I’m not falling for her. Not now. Not ever. And sure as hell not again.

So why does this feel like surrender?