There had been a time when perhaps we could have been closer. But the person I had become over the years couldn’t afford transparency with anyone.

Mom couldn’t know me. So it was easier to keep her at arm’s length.

“You should probably get going if you’re going to see Charlotte. Let her know I’ll be by soon.” I patted my mother on the arm and she pulled me in for a hug. A stiff embrace that had us both pulling away almost instantly.

“Okay. We’ll talk soon,” she said, making no further overtures for us to spend time together.

It was a relief.

It was heartbreaking.

I walked her to the door and waved as she made her way to her car.

And when I was alone again, I hated the silence that I always relished. I hated the solitude I usually craved.

I picked up my phone, wishing I had someone to call. Someone to unload to.

But I had no one.

No friends.

I had built my life that way on purpose, but for the first time it felt…lonely.

Without realizing what I was doing, I dialed a number and held the ringing phone to my ear.

“Agent Kohler.”

I froze. I thought about hanging up but knew that Mason would only call back.

Why had I called him?

Feeling low, I had reached out without a second thought.

What was I thinking?

Was I thinking at all?

“Hi, Mason.”

“Hannah, hi.” I could hear his smile through the phone. It lifted my heavy, heavy heart.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.” I could hear the tapping of a keyboard. The shuffling of papers.

“I’m at the office. Thought I’d come in and get some work done while the place was quiet.”

“Oh, well, I don’t want to bug you—” Calling him had been a mistake. I’d see him later. I shouldn’t be so needy. That wasn’t how I was supposed to play this.

“You’re not bothering me. Not in the slightest. Are you okay? You sound a little down.” He was observant. Too observant. It should bother me.

It didn’t.

I liked that he picked up on my mood without my having to say anything.

“My mother came by. She brought a framed picture of Charlotte and me that used to sit on my dad’s desk at work.” I spoke quickly, as if scared the words would dry up and get lost.

“Oh. Well that’s nice, isn’t it?” He stopped shuffling papers and typing on his computer. I had his attention.

All of it.

It was a heady feeling.

“I miss my dad,” I whispered, wiping away stray wetness from my eyes. He pulled the emotion from me carefully. Without even realizing what he was doing.

“I know you do,” he whispered back. No “I’m sorry.” No insincere condolences. Just “I know.” It was enough.

“I thought it would have stopped hurting so much by now,” I found myself saying.

“I don’t think it ever stops hurting that much,” he said.

“I wish you were wrong.”

“The only thing that helps is time. And being with people who make you feel better.”

“Can I see you? Now?” I found myself asking. Why was I doing this? Why was I ripping myself open for him to see?

Why did it feel so right?

“Of course, Hannah. I’ll be there in ten.”

“Thank you,” I said before he hung up.

“Always.”

I put my hand over my heart. Hating the way it beat louder and harder for him.

But enjoying it too.

—

“I’m glad you called me.” Mason leaned down and kissed me. A sweet pressing of lips that had me questioning my sanity.

I smiled. It was all I could do. I was all out of coy, flirty responses. I couldn’t play the part of seductive siren today.

I was feeling raw.

Exposed.

And I had called the one person I couldn’t be honest with.

What in the hell was wrong with me?

I blamed my mother.

Damn her.

“But you’re busy. You have work to do.” I tried to backtrack. To salvage the mess I had made.

It was too late.

Mason was here.

And I wanted him to be.

Keep your distance. Don’t let him close. Don’t forget why he’s in your life.

Shut up!

“Stop it. Grab your coat. We’re getting out of here.” Mason’s eyes sparkled when he looked at me.

God, why did that feel so good?

I did as I was told and followed him out to his car.

I could question everything later.

Right now I didn’t want to second-guess myself.

“Where are we going?” I asked once we were in the car.

“What do you think about going ice-skating?” he asked, and I laughed.

It felt good.

The laughing.

“Ice-skating? Seriously?”

Mason smirked. “Why? I’ve always wanted to give it a try. Could be entertaining to watch me fall on my ass. Have you ever been?”

I sobered slightly. “Yeah, I used to go when I was little. My dad would take Charlotte and me. I was pretty good, but I haven’t been since I was thirteen.”

Mason reached out and took my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Well, maybe it’s time to try again.”

His words seemed to hold so much meaning. He had no idea how much.

“Maybe,” I conceded, squeezing back.

We drove all the way to the sports complex as Mason told me stories about Perry, his hapless partner. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed so much.

“And I had to tell him that the self-tanner he was using had turned his skin orange. I couldn’t figure out how he hadn’t noticed when he looked in the mirror.” He chuckled, turning in to the parking lot.

“I wish I could see this guy. The fake tan and bad aftershave have me intrigued,” I said, snickering.

“Everyone has that one coworker who drives them crazy. Unfortunately for me, it’s my partner.” He parked the car and we got out. Mason took my hand, lacing our fingers together.

The earlier sadness had lifted. Now I couldn’t stop smiling.

That’s a problem.

Not right now. Not when I needed to feel good about something.

“Yeah, I have one of those. Mine’s like a puppy that won’t leave you alone and you feel bad if you kick him across the room,” I said, walking through the door that Mason held open for me.