The following morning, I dressed quickly in clothes I didn’t mind fucking up. Given that I’d been fired—pending review, no doubt—I had time to kill, and I was more than happy to spend it helping out Rebecca at her place.

The door still had to be replaced and the front and back stairs fixed up, too. I had plenty to keep me busy, not to mention spending the day with Rebecca would be infinitely better than sitting around here, staring at the boxes and deciding whether I should fucking move or not.

What choice do I have now?

I was out of a job. The opportunity I’d picked up in Vermont was the only thing I had left and, fuck it, even that might be dead in the water thanks to Jackson and his creep fingers.

My fingers slipped on my belt at the thought of that asshat.

I took a breath to calm the anger unfurling in my chest. Christ almighty, what I’d give to be in a ring with that motherfucker and give him the ass-whooping of a lifetime. The fact that I’d ever been friends with him was insane.

Back then, he’d never shown an inkling of his true colors.

I brushed aside thoughts of the jackass and focused on the day instead. With Rebecca, I didn’t have to address thoughts of the future. I could just fucking chill, bury myself in work, and spend my evening with her.

Ten minutes later, breakfast eaten and wood loaded up, I pulled up in front of her house and cut off the engine of the Dodge. I looked up at her place—the classic columns, the now-repaired eaves—and smiled. Soon, she’d have everything fixed up and a little puppy for company.

And what then? You’ll leave. Leave her to the fucking vultures in this town, Perry included.

I grunted and clunked open my car door, then made my way to the gate and up the front path to the door. A piece of paper fluttered against it, folded in half with my name scrawled across the front.

I brought it down and flipped it open.

Gone fishing.

Kidding. I’ve gone up to New Orleans to see my sister. There’s a key under the front mat if you need to get into the house for any reason. I know you wanted to work on the place today, Mason, I just needed some time to be with family.

I didn’t text because I knew you’d convince me not to go on my own.

Yes, I took the bus, and yes, I’m fine with it.

I’ll text you later, when I’ve arrived.

I’ll be thinking of you.

Becca

I folded up the note again and tucked it into my back pocket. Fuck it, of course she was out of town. Yesterday, after Kathy had gone, she’d told me she needed some time to be alone and think, and I’d respected that. Gone home, jerked off to thoughts of her naked, breasts heaving underneath me, and that was fine.

As long as she was all right.

Regardless, the fact that she’d gone to New Orleans on a damn bus didn’t exactly fill me with rainbows and fuckin’ sunshine.

I brought out my phone, stepped back and took a seat on the top step. The wood groaned underneath me but held. Sure enough, I had a text message from her.

“Here safe and thinking of you.”

I opened a reply and started texting, but my fingers faltered on the screen. “Fuck this,” I muttered, and hit dial instead. Everything that’d happened over the past week had driven me to this point.

All I could think of was Becca. Claiming her. Ensuring that she stayed mine and only mine. Protecting her. Helping her. The fact she wasn’t here bit balls, but I’d show her that I supported her choices, no matter what.

I pressed the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” Becca answered on the second ring.

“There you are,” I said, and a goofyass smile popped up on my face. “I got your note. The fishing good up in New Orleans?”

“I have no idea,” Becca replied, and there was a smile in her voice too. “My sister wouldn’t fish unless it was for pizza or Chinese takeaway.”

“I heard that!” A woman yelled in the background.

“That’s because I said it real loud,” Becca replied then cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “What can I do for you, doctor?”

“You know, you shouldn’t talk to me like that. You’re only making things harder for me.”

“Harder? Do you have proof of that?”

“You’re not really asking me for a dick pic, are you?” I burst out laughing and settled back against one of the columns flanking the stairs. “’Cause I’m sitting here in broad daylight, on your front porch, with a boner and the whole world to view it.”

“Please, you know that street is empty,” Becca replied. “Anyway, no, don’t send me a dick pic. There isn’t a bus back until tomorrow morning and I’m afraid seeing you now would be way too much of a temptation. I might have to walk all the way back.”

“Are you kidding? I’m two seconds away from driving out there, picking you up, and eating you out before we come home.”

“Mason,” she breathed. That same breathy voice I equated with satisfaction. With that wholesome fucking goodness that came from us together, whether it was on a bed, the floor in the living room, or the counter in the kitchen.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said after a second, forcing thoughts of our sex away. “We haven’t had a real date yet.”

Becca fell silent.

“You still there? All I’m getting is terrified silence.”

“Who said I was terrified?” she asked.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Becca. Look, by date I didn’t mean we’re dating, just that we should go out together. Hold hands. Eat out. Come home and wreck the interior of your house or maybe mine. What do you say?”

Becca took a second. “It depends what you have in mind,” she said. “I’m not exactly keen to go to the Dirty Rice and be ogled like I’m a tightrope walker in a circus.”

“Why the tightrope walker? Why not the ringmaster?”

“You’re the ringmaster,” she replied and laughed.

“Oh, don’t go down that road. We’ll be back at dick pics in no time.” I scratched the back of my neck, swiping away the sweat that’d sprouted up there. Today was set to be another scorcher in Stoneport. “There’s a carnival in town this weekend. I was thinking we could go check it out. Go on a few rides, eat some cotton candy, that kinda shit.”

“That kinda shit, eh? Sounds appealing. I still feel like we’ll get ogled by the locals.”

“That’s bound to happen, regardless. What are you afraid of? I know it’s not me or what I’ll do to you when you get back,” I replied, evenly. “So what is it?”

Silence again. In the background, a door creaked and slammed. The sound of road traffic came into focus, cars driving by in a busy street, the ring of a bicycle bell.

“Becca.”

“I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of me,” she replied. “Can you give me a couple hours to think about it?”

“Of course,” I replied. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be here waiting the minute you get home. No strings attached.”

“Good. I’d like that.”

“Oh, and Becca?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll bring the wood,” I said and hung up on her laughing hysterically.

Christ, she was a peach. Just perfect. She got my brand of humor like no one else ever had. Usually people looked at me like I’d grown another head when I cracked a cheesy joke like that. I smirked and tucked my phone into my front pocket then rose from the steps.

There was no use wasting a day like this. I had everything I needed to fix up the front and back steps. Both fences were complete, and the eaves were all fixed up too. Soon, Becca wouldn’t need my help anymore.

Not in this sense, at least.

I trudged down the front steps and toward the gate. A figure stepped into view around the side of my truck, and I stopped walking. I placed both palms on the top of the picket fence gate, relishing the pain of the spikes biting into my flesh.

“What do you want?” I asked.

Tabitha stepped forward, twirling a long, blonde section of hair around two fingers. She pouted her too-thick lips at me. “Can’t a girl say hello around here? I thought we were in the South. So much for hospitality, Mason.”

“What do you want?” I repeated. I didn’t have time for shit from my ex right now. Fuck it, I’d never have time for it again. It was insane how different she was from Becca. It was insane that I’d ever found the woman in front of me attractive, that I’d thought, for a second, she was a genuine human being who actually gave a shit.

Young and dumb. That’d be my excuse for the marriage.

Tabitha sighed and shrugged her bony shoulders, one of the straps of her too-tight camisole slipping down. She didn’t bother lifting it into place again. “I want to talk to you, Mace. You haven’t answered any of my calls or replied to my text messages.”

“Yeah, there’s a fucking reason for that, Tabitha. Let me spell it out for you. I do not want to talk to you.” I opened the gate and headed for the back of the truck, dismissing the conversation and focusing, instead, on the tasks I’d set for myself today.

“Mace, please,” she whispered. “Please, just listen to me.”

I ignored her and hauled some of the wood out of the back of the truck, resting it against my shoulder. I carried it into the front yard and shut the gate behind me. Her heels clicked up to it, but she didn’t enter.

“Mace. You can’t pretend what we had didn’t mean anything to you. I know I made some shitty mistakes, but you have to understand that I made them for real reasons. You were gone. And he was—look, it was complicated.”

Still, I blanked her. We’d been through all of this already. We were divorced. I owed her nothing. It wasn’t that I was mad at her anymore. I was just fucking indifferent, and I didn’t need anything jeopardizing my relationship with Becca.

Relationship. Good god, how the fuck did I get here?

The last relationship hadn’t exactly worked out well.

“My dad passed away,” she said.

I turned toward her, one eyebrow raised. Was this another one of her lies, or was it real? Tabitha’s old man had been good to me. A good man who hadn’t approved of his daughter’s behavior. “He did?”

“Yes,” she said. “Two days ago. I’m—I’m struggling to keep up with everything. I miss him so much, and seeing him like that, just lying there, and having to organize everything it just—it reminds me of you. It reminds me of us and how safe I felt when we were together. I miss you, Mace. I’m sorry for what happened, baby.”

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. Finally, I released it. “Tabitha, I’m sorry for your loss, but it doesn’t change jack shit. We’re done here. Get it through your head. We are done here.”

Her disposition shifted from victim to bitch so fast it should’ve shocked me—it would have if I hadn’t witnessed it before. “What is it?” she snapped. “What is it, huh? Is it this fucking hussy who lives here? You’re into her? Is that it?”

I studied her calmly, shaking my head. “Get lost, Tab.” I turned back to my work, ignoring the huff of air, the clack of her heels as she stormed off. Any feelings I’d had for her, no matter how superficial, had died years ago.

Her presence made no difference to me.

It was the exact opposite of how I felt about Becca.

Fuck it, I couldn’t hide from the truth anymore. This was more than friends. This was so much more than fuck buddies.

Becca was mine.