Page 42 of Shattered Promise (Avalon Falls #4)

MASON

My best friend grins. “You been holdin’ out on me?”

I stiffen, Theo tucked in tight against my chest. His little face scrunches as he lets out a whimper, turning and tucking into my neck like he’s trying to go back to sleep.

“Pipe noise,” I say flatly. “They always sound like that.”

Beau cocks his head to the side like he’s trying to be serious but the shit-eating grin on his face gives him away. “Sure. When someone’s in your shower. Did you forget that we learned about the shitty plumbing together when you moved in?”

Yes. Yes, I did.

I grunt and shift Theo in my arms. He’s warm and clingy, the kind of post-nap limp that means he’s gonna be cranky until right before he goes to bed tonight.

“I don’t care if it’s someone I dated,” Beau adds casually, one hand resting on the counter like he’s settling in. “Though, did I even date anyone before Peach?” He squints like he’s genuinely trying to remember. “I think I mostly just made poor decisions.”

He says it with a kind of nostalgia, like he’s reminiscing about a past life, but his eyes are sharp and I can feel him trying to read the air, trying to clock every micro-expression I give away. I keep my face neutral, jaw set, but I know I’m not fooling him.

He leans back on the counter, arms folded. “But, for real, Mase. You seeing someone?” There’s nothing but curiosity in his tone, maybe even hope. Like he wants the answer to be yes, like it would make something in the universe right if I wasn’t alone anymore.

I clear my throat but don’t say anything. It feels like I’m betraying her by not shouting her name from the fucking rooftops.

But I can’t make myself utter her name or anything else.

Because what happens when she leaves? What if she gets spooked and bails? And then Beau and all the rest of the Carters keep their distance too.

Beau huffs a sigh. “Yeah, alright, man. You tell me when you’re ready, yeah? But you might wanna tell your shower guest that you have company.”

He’s not wrong. In fact, there’s a beat—a single, perfect heartbeat—where I picture what would happen if Abby walked out of my bedroom right now, hair wet, towel barely hanging on. Would she freeze? Would she laugh? Would she finally put all of this on the table, mess and all, and let it burn?

I can’t risk it.

I just got her. I don’t want to lose her so soon.

I clear my throat again, the sound breaking like gravel under a tire. “Can you grab his bottle from the fridge?” I toss the words over my shoulder, already moving toward the hall. “Should be the blue one, top shelf.”

Theo’s already gnawing on his fist, eyes heavy-lidded and miserable.

He’s not really awake; it’s the inertia of being yanked up too soon, the body’s protest. I cradle him in the crook of my elbow and walk fast down the hall, every step a calculated risk.

The sound of the shower still running. Good.

That gives me maybe another three minutes before Abby emerges pink and wet and completely unprepared for her brother sitting in my kitchen.

I duck into the bedroom, close the door behind me, and set Theo on the floor.

For a split second, I almost laugh. The sight of him, tiny and grumpy and blinking up at me from the tangle of carpet fibers, is so absurd it nearly levels me.

He blinks again, then whimpers in protest and rubs his eyes with both fists.

“Hang on, kiddo.” I squat down and smooth his hair, then glance toward the bathroom.

If this were a test, I’d have an F in planning. I never even considered what it would mean to hide someone in my own goddamn house. To orchestrate this clandestine, mid-afternoon shuttle run between my best friend and my girl without anyone noticing.

I rap my knuckles on the bathroom door. “Trouble?”

She doesn’t answer, so I ease the door open. Steam spills out like it’s trying to push me back, thick and heavy and smelling like my damn body wash. “Trouble.”

She spins around with a sharp inhale, arm flying across her chest, eyes wide.

“Jesus, Mason. You scared me.”

My brain short-circuits. She’s soaked, flushed, glistening. Her hair dark and dripping, her skin pink from the heat. A drop slides down the slope of her breast and vanishes behind the curve of her arm.

I don’t mean to stare, but I do.

She doesn’t move at first, doesn’t reach for the towel. Just watches me like she’s trying to figure out what the hell is happening.

Then her brows twitch, and her body shifts. A subtle straightening, tension creeping up her spine.

A slow smirk curls up the edge of her mouth. “I thought you needed recovery time, but if you’re?—”

“Your brother’s here.”

The words land like a punch. Her whole posture changes. Shoulders draw up, eyes widen, and her arm drops long enough for her to turn off the shower, snatch the towel off the hook, and wrap it around herself. She’s all sharp movements and precision.

Her fingers bunch the fabric at her sternum. “Does he know I’m here?”

I shake my head once. “No. Monitor was on. He followed me in when Theo woke up.”

Her lips part like she’s about to say something else. But nothing comes out. Just a shallow breath and a glance past me toward the bedroom behind me. Her face softens, and I glance down to see Theo crawling over the threshold. Toward her.

“How’s my little duck?” she says in that sing-songy voice she sometimes uses with him.

My son’s face lights up, a grin splitting his face as he crawls faster toward her.

“I haven’t told anyone about the cabin. About me staying,” she says to me, her gaze locked on Theo as she steps out of the shower.

“I’ll take care of it,” I say, already stepping back.

“Thank you, Mason,” she murmurs, her voice low, something soft curling around the edge of it.

She bends down and scoops up Theo, who immediately plants his face into her neck and sighs. It knocks a fresh rush of emotion through me.

She props him on her hip, the towel gaping at her shoulder, and he clings to her with both arms, like he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he lets go. His little fingers clutch the edge of the towel, and Abby just laughs, low and warm, her cheek pressed to his hair.

My son is happy when he’s with her. It’s that simple.

I should leave. But I don’t.

I step forward, palming the back of her head, dragging my fingers through damp strands as I bend her back and press my mouth to hers.

Her lips part instantly. Her tongue meets mine like she was already halfway there. The kiss is hard and fast and deep, like neither of us remembers how to do anything but this.

Time warps. Folds in on itself.

Her mouth is heat and hunger and something else—something grounding.

I plant a quick, firm kiss on her forehead, then step back.

“I’ll let you know when he’s gone, but Theo’s gotta come with me.”

She nods, towel clutched tight at her chest, whiskey-colored eyes locked on mine like she knows I’ll take care of it.

And she’d be right. I pull the door closed behind me, jaw tight, heart punching against my ribs. Then I scrub a hand down my face and brace myself to walk back into the kitchen—into Beau’s grin and all the goddamn landmines waiting to blow.

Beau watches me for a beat, leaning back against the counter, arms folded. His brow arches. “So your shower friend has met your son?”

I shake my head, slow. “Don’t.”

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re saying it with your face.”

He grins. “You sure I can’t meet whoever’s in there? I’m great with new people. Very charming.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I deadpan.

He tips his head back and laughs. He pushes off the counter, hands up in surrender. “Yeah, yeah. Message received. I’ll let myself out.”

Beau’s eyes linger a second too long—reading, always reading—but he just flashes a lazy salute and heads for the door. The screen bangs behind him, and I watch through the window as he jogs down the steps, keys already out before he hits the gravel.

Then he’s gone.