CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Mason

The rhythmic beat of the helicopter blade pounds in my ears. Wind kicks up dirt and dust from the field behind the clinic, flattening the long shimmering grass in a circle around me. The sun has set on the field, darkness enveloping the clinic now. I look up and see the first smattering of stars in the sky. The pilot of the helicopter looks down at me as the machine hovers in the air. We give each other a curt nod, a mutual appreciation for each other's efforts. The first response is always a team effort, and it's apparent to all here today that Allan Green could have had a different outcome had we not all responded with machine-like efficiency. It's a grim reminder of the call that I am here to serve. People's lives depend on it.

It was a gruesome call, though chainsaw incidents are never a walk in the park. Everyone in Heartwood is aware of the potential dangers of the trade. But for something like this to happen at the fundraiser, in front of a crowd of onlookers, on a day that should bring hope to the clinic and the community, makes something inside me feel heavy.

I never would have wished for something like this to happen, but a strange feeling of relief washes over me. Simone saw it all. Unless she's an unfeeling cyborg, which is entirely possible, she can't deny that my presence today made all the difference for Allan. Had he been forced to make the hour-long drive to the nearest hospital, the outcome could have been unimaginable.

I shudder, shoving the image to the back of my mind. There are more than a few memories haunting me from back there. This will likely be one of them. I've become adept at keeping things neatly tucked away in tidy little boxes. Until today.

I tried every strategy in the book to lock away the look on Ally's face when I left her by the river. Breathing techniques, counting backward, visualizing putting it to the far reaches of my mind. That look is burned on the inside of my eyelids, and it makes them sting.I told her I didn't need her help, didn't want it. And worse, that she would be a distraction.

Winnie is waiting for me by the back door of the clinic, wringing her hands together and clearly holding in a breath.

"He'll be okay, Winnie." She's known Allan for decades, as have many people in town. That's one of the downfalls of working in a rural community. Everyone knows everyone, and when tragedy hits one person, it hits the whole town. "His hand may not be, but he'll live. And he'll adapt."

"Poor man." She shakes her head, suddenly looking worn and tired. "He'll never make a living the same way again." I put my arm on Winnie's shoulder as we regard the helicopter until it's out of sight, heading down the valley towards Calgary.

"If I know the people of Heartwood, he'll be taken care of. He won't be on his own." I lightly turn to Winnie and guide her back into the clinic. "Go home and get some rest, Winnie."

"What about you, Mason? Go on home to Ally."

I shake my head. I have a lot of charting to take care of, and it will take me a while with my mind elsewhere. I also have a feeling that I am the last person that Ally would want to see right now.

Winnie turns to face me in the dimly lit hallway of the clinic.

"Are you okay?" Winnie has always cared about me like her own son, but she skirts around questions like these, knowing how uncomfortable I am talking about them.

"I will be, Winnie. It's not the first time I've seen a partial amputation, and I'm sure it won't be the last." My lips tighten into a straight line, an acceptance of a grim truth.

"Will you stop pretending like you don't know what I'm talking about?" Part of compartmentalizing for me is not indulging in conversations about whatever it is I'm trying to forget. In this case, it isn't Mr. Green's partially amputated hand. It's Ally. The thought that will plague me most if I let it.

"I burned some bridges today. Like severely charred, never to be crossed again." I slash my hand through the air. Done deal.

"Are you so sure? Personally, I've never seen a girl look that concerned who wouldn't be willing to at least talk things out."

"You don't know Ally, then. I hit her right where it hurts today, Winnie." All Ally wants is for someone to appreciate her worth, to see her for how brilliant and capable she is. I did see it. I saw it so clearly, and in a moment where it mattered, I rejected it. I rejected her.

"I love you, Mason. And I only want the best for you." I steel myself for the motherly lecture that's coming. Whatever Winnie is about to say, I won't like it. No sentence starts like that if it isn't followed up by a gut punch. It's Winnie's version of no offence, but … "But you're a fucking idiot if you don't at least try. I would be failing you, I would be failing your mother, if I let you walk away from this."

I stifle a laugh that bubbles up at the sound of Winnie cursing. Winnie rarely curses, except in particular circumstances, and only when she means business.

"It's a lost cause, Winnie. Even if she forgave me, you know as well as I do that a relationship doesn't have a place in my life. Today was proof of that. I was too distracted by my own feelings that I wasn't available when I was needed. I need to be practical here. I just need to let Ally go. It's better for the both of us, for the clinic, if I do." I turn my back on Winnie, about to head into my office to wallow. I just need to be alone right now.

"That's bullshit, Mason." Winnie is not ready to give up. She's only just getting started. She's practically pulling on boxing gloves. "That's bullshit and you know it. More than anyone, Ally understands the responsibility you have to the town, and here she is, offering to help you carry this load that you refuse to let anyone in your life share. Here she is, offering to take on some of it to give you more space in your life for joy, for happiness. That's love, Mason. Life will never be easy, but it can be easier when you choose to go through it with someone else."

I don't respond. I go into my office and close the door on Winnie, feeling yet again like a piece of shit. Winnie doesn't deserve this kind of treatment, but I'm not in the mood right now. I already feel like trash for hurting Ally today; what's one more shitty thing as a mark against me? God, I need a drink.

I pull out the glasses I keep in my drawer, the ones that I had pulled out when I shared a drink in here with Ally. Something stabs at my side as I see a remnant of pink lip gloss on the rim. I slam the drawer shut, not daring to look at it.

The problem isn't that I don't want love or someone to share my life with. I've wanted a fairy-tale love since I was young. Since I saw how much my father loved my mom. Since I started watching classic romantic comedies and dreamt of that kind of story for myself one day. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm a complete and utter sap. I turn to mush at a love story.

The problem is that it will never be my story. Not now that I've taken over the clinic. Not now that I've made an oath to serve Heartwood. I can't have any distractions in my life, someone who wouldn't understand working late hours, having to drop everything at a moment's notice.

But Ally does. She understands certain things take precedence. How many nights did she stay late with me? Ally poured herself into this clinic, putting in endless hours just to raise money for a program that would help the clinic and help the town. How had I been so blind? Ally not only shares my passion and care about the clinic, she cares about me.

I gulp down the scotch I poured, shuddering as the liquid burns my throat on the way down. I know now that I need to let Ally in to see all of me. Even the parts of myself that I would rather keep hidden.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow morning I will go to the cabin first thing and explain everything to Ally. I will tell her how much I appreciate her and how badly I need her in my life. How I am a better man because of her, and I will never stop trying to be better for her.

Tomorrow. Tonight, we both need time to cool off.