Mason is no longer cradled in my arms when I wake. Across the room, the tap turns on, off. I listen as Mason brushes his teeth, gurgles, then spits into the sink. My nostrils widen at the scent of coffee floating in through the kitchen.

The unnerving sense of déjà vu prickles my skin.

I toss off the blankets and sit upright on the edge of the bed. My t-shirt is wrinkled, and my jeans stick to my thighs, damp with sweat.

Mason emerges from the bathroom, a cup of coffee in hand, and mutters, “Morning.”

I try for a smile. “How’s your head?”

“Nothing some strong coffee won’t cure.”

His abruptness takes me aback, but I dismiss my own feelings and focus on him. After the night he’s had, he deserves my undivided attention. “How are you feeling…otherwise?”

He stares at me blankly before finally responding. “I’m fine.”

Mason is anything but fine. “Okay, can I do anything for you?”

“Go home.”

I’m grateful he looks away so he doesn’t see the pain I’m sure is apparent on my face. This emotional tug of war is wearing me thin. “I’ll change and meet you at the office.”

“Take the day off,” he says. “I’m very busy today.”

Mason is busy every day, and I’ve managed my workload in spite of his meetings and absences. It’s when he’s gone or distracted that I do my best work, because it keeps my mind off missing him.

Anger nips at the back of my shoulders. I rub the base of my neck, easing the tension. It doesn’t abate. “I have a lot of work to do myself.”

He scoffs. “Nothing that can’t wait.”

Now I’m pissed. “Why do you do this?”

He blinks. “What are you talking about?”

“This.” I gesture between us. “You let me in, and then shut me out. Just when I think we’re getting closer, you pull back. What the hell, Mason?”

He all but rolls his eyes, and it only further cranks up my anger. “What, no answer?”

I’m poking now, trying to egg him on, force some kind of reaction. He doesn’t take the bait. He walks out of the bedroom, disappearing from view. I stew for a second, and then bolt out of bed, chasing after him down the hall. “Seriously!”

When he doesn’t turn around, I curse. “For fuck’s sake, you cold prick.”

That gets his attention. He turns, leveling me with a cool stare, and says, “You knew exactly what you were getting into when you came to work for me.”

That is a bald-faced lie. Mason Wood’s reputation may have preceded him—personally and professionally—but no amount of warning could have prepared me for this. I’m invested. I care.

Damn it, I’m in love.

I follow him to the kitchen and pour myself a coffee. After slugging back a generous mouthful, I slam the cup on the granite countertop. “How long are you going to pretend you don’t have feelings for me?”

He whirls around, eyes steely and gray. “Don’t act like you know me.”

A response catches in my throat. The truth is, I do know him, and I think that scares him. I get it, I’m terrified too. After my dad left, I thought I’d never trust a man enough to fall in love. Didn’t think I could love.

I grab his arm. “I’m not going anywhere, Mason. Please, I want to help.”

Mason’s voice goes dangerously low. “Let it go, Olivia.”

Tears gather in my eyes. “You’re not the only with shit to deal with,” I say. “I came here last night to talk to you, because I thought you could help me.” The words tumble from my mouth, and it’s not until I stop talking that I realize he isn’t listening. For whatever reason, Mason has shut down, shut me out.

“Fuck, Mason.” My body trembles. “I thought we had something special here.”

My gut tells me we’re right together.

But my instinct has been wrong before.

Mason’s jaw twitches. “I never promised you a fairy tale. You knew what this was.”

I want to scream. Stomp my feet. Throw something at the wall. I’m so fucking sick of everyone I care about running away when shit gets hard. Dad, Renee. I can’t stomach the thought of losing Mason too.”

“Things changed between us.” I move my hand from his arm to his chest, flattening my palm against his heart. “Something happened here. You can deny it to me, but please, admit it to yourself. Before it’s too late.”

His eyes go gray, and the first inkling of doubt creeps into my soul. Is it possible I’m wrong? That he doesn’t care for me at all?

I think back to the way his partners treat me, their constant insistence that Mason is different with me. Did I interpret that the wrong way? Am I really that naïve?

“You’ve misinterpreted this…us,” he says, quiet and solemn, as if reading my thoughts and speaking my deepest fears.

I almost believe it’s the truth. “I don’t think I did,” I reply.

“I don’t do commitment. I’m not your white knight.”

Tears sting my eyes. I blink them back and swallow the knot lodged in my throat. “Don’t do this.”

He’s breaking up with me. A hollow laugh hovers in my mouth as I realize the irony of the sentiment. We were never together, not the way I thought. Mason has never defined our relationship, never said anything to give me the impression we’re anything but lovers. Not even friends.

“I think it’s best that you leave,” he says, finally, his voice as cold as his eyes.

His words slice like a razor blade to the throat, effectively cutting off any lingering hope. I don’t fight it—what’s the damn point? I grab my purse, slip on my shoes, and walk out of his suite without so much as a backward glance.

I can’t.

Because if he so much as looks at me with an ounce of caring, I’m terrified I’ll go crawling back—just like my mom did.

I deserve better than that.