Page 62 of His Saving Grace

Now was the perfect time to tell him. Just open her mouth and let the truth out. But she couldn’t tell him the truth. The truth was too… difficult.

Coward.

She flinched. She was a coward, terrified of spilling her secrets. Terrified she’d tip their budding relationship off its axis and smash it into pieces.

He held open the door for her, and they exited the bathroom without a word. Two teenage girls, who were headed in their direction, did a double take at Mason coming out of the ladies’ room, and then bent their heads together and giggled wildly.

Instead of heading back into the theater, Mason hung a left toward the front door. She followed him, her shoulders drooping as the weight of the situation pressed down on her like a cinder block between her shoulder blades. So much for date night. It was ruined. And it was all her fault.

An aching tension formed behind her rib cage. Why hadn’t she told him the truth? The ache twisted into a sharp, searing spasm, seizing her lungs. She gulped in a shallow breath, barely pulling in enough oxygen. She pressed the heel of her hand hard into her breastbone, hoping the pressure and pain would release her lungs. And that Mason wouldn’t turn around and see her distress.

If she passed out from lack of oxygen, he would notice. Can’t let that happen. Breathe, you moron. Her lungs unlocked and she gasped in a noisy, burning breath.

Mason turned at the sound, his eyes sharp in the bright lights of the lobby. His features were distressingly blank. No narrowed eyes, no mouth turned down in a frown, no furrow between his eyebrows. Nothing.

Without a word, he pulled open the front door of the theater and waited for her to exit. She slipped past him, refusing to meet his gaze, afraid of what she might see if she looked too closely.

She stepped onto the sidewalk and into the oppressive heat of the evening. That he had yet to take her hand left her gutted. Her throat ached and she held back a sob. This past week, he had made a point of touching her every chance he got. Now, it seemed that was gone.

They crossed the street and climbed into the truck. An awkward and tense silence built between them, thick and oppressive like the moments just before a thunderstorm breaks, pushing them in opposite directions. She could practically see the chasm widening between them, deep and dark and dense, growing to impassable proportions.

She wanted to cry. And if she hadn’t just sobbed in the bathroom, she would have burst into tears.

Mason started the truck and jammed it into gear. He pulled away from the curb a little too fast, a little too wildly, a little too pissed off. She grabbed the seat belt with both hands, glanced at him, silently willed him to understand. His gaze stayed fixed on the road, his clenched jaw sharp enough to cut glass.

She tore her gaze from him, staring out the passenger window instead. With every passing block, the chasm between them widened. Despair and shame warred inside her, hollowing her out, leaving behind an empty ache. When did everything get so complicated?

Maybe when you lied to him?

She pressed her forehead against the side window. The lights from the city sped by, blurring together into a bright, broken jumble. And then, before she knew it, they were on the long, lonely stretch of highway headed back to the ranch. The sun sank behind the horizon, the gloomy in-between darkness of twilight signaling an end to this horrible day.

“Who was that woman?” His low, impatient question sent her heart kicking against her ribs.

“Someone I used to work with.” Her voice was hoarse, the words nothing more than a whisper.

“In Portland?”

She flinched, although he most likely couldn’t see her in the darkness of the cab. So, he had caught her little slip a while back. “Yes.” The word came out as a sigh. An ache formed behind her eyes.

“What did—”

“I can’t do this right now.”

“If you would just talk to me, tell me what is going on—”

“It’s not that simple.” Her voice broke on the words, same as her heart, at the truth of the statement. “I wish I could, Mason, I really do. But I can’t.”

“No, the problem is, you won’t.” He spat the words at her, his impatience and frustration making him terse. “There’s a big difference.”

She had no argument for that, so she stayed quiet. She wrapped her arms around herself, praying the various aches in her body disappeared soon. Her eyes filled with a fresh batch of tears, which was surprising after her little outburst at the movie theater. Apparently, her tears ducts weren’t swollen shut after all. She let the tears fall silently, not even bothering to wipe them from her cheeks. The dark shapes of the landscape sped by out the passenger’s side window.

Mason barreled down the driveway of the ranch, and the lights from the farmhouse greeted them. Today, there was no feeling of home. Only an intense misery in her chest. This wasn’t her home, and she’d been foolish to think it might be.

He pulled the truck to a stop, and she opened the door and jumped out. She hurried around the house toward the safety of the guest house. Mason’s gaze on her burrowed under her skin. She slipped around the corner and suddenly felt like she could breathe again.

“And I want my damn dog back.”

It wasn’t so much the words that got her as his frustrated, angry tone. She stumbled, fear and sadness mixing with the disappointment already burning inside her. She caught herself on the side of the house. Her eyes ached, straining to spill more tears, and she hurried forward, speeding up until she was running.