The corner of his lip tugged up. “Are you serious?
I nodded.
I hadn’t been wracked with doubt, but as I asked now, I realized it’d always been with me. It had been in the back of my mind.
“I was a nobody.”
He started to protest, but I kept going, shaking my head.
“No. I know you’re going to say I wasn’t, but I was. I wasn’t even popular at my own school. I had two best friends, a boyfriend, a mom, and a dad. That’s it. Then I lost everyone in the same week. You and Logan didn’t have to do anything for me. You didn’t even need to be nice to me, but you were. You were kind and supportive, and you guys made me one of yours.”
“We weren’t that nice. You’re giving us more credit than we deserve. I stayed back from a party so I could grill you about you and your mom. That wasn’t me being nice. That was me being an asshole.”
“That was you looking out for yourself and your brother. My mom and I invaded your house. I expected you to hate me in the beginning.” But I’d never felt that from them. Never hate. “Why didn’t you hate me?”
“Why would I?” He leaned back, resting on his hands.
I was still curled up on his lap, but I sat further upright to hold myself steady.
He shrugged. “I hated my dad. I didn’t particularly like your mom, but I never hated you. You didn’t do anything. You were just collateral damage like Logan and me. Now, if you had started to do things, then maybe I might’ve started to dislike you.” He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, and his hand lingered on my cheek. “I don’t even hate your mom. After all the shit she did to you, I seriously dislike her, but I don’t hate her. I can’t. She brought me you, and a part of me is thankful to her for that.”
I pressed a fist to his chest, just holding it there. “Any other guy, and that would sound like the cheesiest line ever. But you.” I gently tapped him with that fist. “You, and I’m almost swooning.”
“Yeah?” His grin deepened, his eyes warm and loving. They darkened into something more, and he sat back up. His arms came to circle me, but he kept them loose. His thumb rubbed back and forth on my thigh. “Look.” He sounded so serious. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but as long as you’re not going to leave me, I’m not too worried about it. I think Taylor was right. I just think you’re processing something, and you’ll come out the other end better. Stronger. And things are kinda weird right now, since we’re engaged, but kinda not engaged at the same time. Almost everything’s come full circle, you know? You got both your dads. You got Malinda as a mom. Heather is a good best friend—and that’s saying a lot from me—and Taylor seems cool. Plus, Logan’s finally your official stepbrother now. And you got Mark. You got everything you lost, and then some. You and me, I figure we’re the icing on the cake.” His eyes sparkled. “Right?”
“When you put it like that . . .” I teased. The lump was dissipating. “I think you’re right. Everything will be fine.”
He nodded. “Damn straight, Strattan.”
“Strattan?” I arched my eyebrows. “We’ve moved to last names now?”
“Fuck yeah.” His hands tightened, and he pulled me closer. He leaned toward me, and I knew those lips were going to rest on mine in seconds.
“When I’m deep inside you tonight, I want to hear you scream my name,” he murmured, his breath caressing me. “We’re that kind of last names to each other.”
I laughed because that didn’t make sense, but I don’t think he cared. I didn’t either, and then his lips were on mine and the laughter turned into a moan.
So many sensations flooded me, and soon he was inside of me, and I was screaming his name. I hoped this, like everything else, would never ever go away.
Glass shattered.
Thump!
Then complete silence.
I jerked upright in bed. Mason sat up with me, and I looked at the clock to see it was around four in the morning. He slid out of bed without a sound and reached for his phone. He handed it over, and as he did, we heard another sound. It was like someone shuffling, then another thump.
“Fuck.”
My eyes found Mason’s. That word was whispered, but we both heard it, and it hadn’t come from either of us. Someone else was in the house.
He mouthed, “Nine-one-one.”
I nodded, lifted the phone with trembling hands, and expelled a silent breath. I had to close my eyes for a second, just to steady myself. When I opened them, Mason was at the door. I reached out for him. My heart was pounding. I didn’t want him to go, but I couldn’t stop him, not unless I made sounds. And I couldn’t—then the intruder would know we’d heard him.