CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Ally

The flight over the Rockies and the descent into Calgary were harrowing. Multiple bags fell out of the overhead compartments, and I had to pry my fingers from the armrests when we landed. If that was the flight in on a commercial jet, I don't even want to imagine what it was like for Mason in a helicopter. Nausea roils in my gut as I consider what might have happened to Mason up there, what might have happened before I got the chance to make things right with him. To kiss him just one more time.

The pilot's voice crackles over the speaker as people unbuckle their seat belts. "Welcome to Calgary. We apologize for the bumpy ride. For anyone with connecting flights, be sure to check the board for any delays. The storm seems to have affected many flights leaving Calgary International Airport tonight. Stay safe out there, folks."

I only wish Mason would have heeded that warning. If I wasn't so worried about him, I'd be absolutely fuming at his recklessness. I can't let myself go down that road, not yet. Not until I see him with my own two eyes and confirm that he has both feet safely on the ground.

Spencer unloads both of our bags from the overhead bin. She had insisted on coming with me the moment I said I was going. She also insisted on using her travel points for the flight and a rental car. I look over at Spencer, my heart swelling with gratitude. This entire experience would be nerve-racking without her. I owed her before, but now I can't think of anything that will repay this.

We unload off the plane as quickly as we can and rush through the airport, walking at a near jogging pace. The place packed with stranded travellers. People mill around in the terminal, displaying obvious outbursts of frustration over the number of delayed flights. Some have given up, taking to waiting out the storm by sleeping on the ground. The universe has my back today.

As we near the exit, lightning flashes outside, followed by a loud crack of thunder overhead. We make a quick stop at the rental car desk—this time I insist we have a newer car, one that looks reliable, and the rental clerk gives me a duh expression. Of course, they have better cars here than at the Heartwood airport. We secure the keys and continue to the parkade, making our way to our assigned car.

"Where to?" Spencer asks as we climb into a boring silver compact sedan. Boring is good. Boring is reliable. We had stopped by Spencer's apartment only long enough to collect some toiletries and a change of clothes, so we only have our two bags to throw into the back seat.

I pause. I don't know. It was a snap decision that made me hop on a flight to find Mason in Calgary, and now I realize I don't have a clue where he might be. He could already be on his way back to Heartwood. Or at a different hospital if the crash was as bad as the video made it seem. My hands shake as I fumble around, trying to open Google Maps on my phone. Focus Ally.

"Uh, good question." My eyes dart around as I try to think of how we might find Mason. He had answered none of my calls before the flight took off, and there are still no messages from him when I turn my phone back on after the flight. "Winnie said he was taking Charlie to the hospital. She must have meant the children's hospital. Charlie can't be over eight years old."

Speaking the words out loud makes the reality of the situation that much more grim. Charlie is so young. Whatever had happened to him tonight must be awful if it caused Mason to endanger his own life. It must have provoked some visceral reaction, causing all the memories that still torment Mason to come flooding back.

Maybe Mason and I are more alike than I realized. Mason was willing to put his life on the line to make sure that Charlie was okay. Maybe Mason also needs to learn which parts of his heart to keep open and which parts to guard. Perhaps we can both help each other figure it out.

"Alright, we start there." Spencer plugs in her phone before I've even gotten my app open, and punches in the directions to the children's hospital. It's another twenty-five minutes away. My knee bounces as my nerves buzz inside of me. I try to get a hold of Winnie once more, but there's no answer on her end either.

Rain sluices down the windshield, making the road impossible to see, especially in the dark. Eyes fixed on the road, Spencer grips the steering wheel until we round the corner and she pulls into the loading zone in front of the colourful building. In the daylight I'm sure it looks cheerful, but at night in the red glowing light of the emergency department sign, the looming building feels ominous.

"You run in, and I'll park the car," Spencer says, pulling the sedan up in front of the emergency room entrance.

Don't jump to conclusions, I remind myself as I step out of the car and into the pouring rain.

There are a million different scenarios I could walk into. All the possibilities play through my mind as I try to prepare myself. What if Mason isn't even here? My hair is already stuck to my face as I enter the waiting room.

I approach the triage nurse and my voice shakes, trying to get out the words. The hospital doesn't faze me; I've been working in one for years. It's the impending news from the nurse that makes my hands tremble.

"Is there a Mason Landry here? He came in with the little boy from Heartwood," I squeak out. I'm breathless even though I've only walked ten feet from the car inside the building. The triage nurse blinks back at me for a second before she turns to her computer and types a few things into her keyboard. She seems too calm and unbothered considering the circumstances. I want to scream at her that the man I love might be in danger, that I need to see him now, and if she doesn't let me in, I'm going to … I don't know what I'll do. I've never felt so determined, so aggressive .

"Ah, you mean the man-child that's been eating all our popsicles?" Relief floods over me and a shaky laugh escapes from my mouth. Mason is here. He's alive. He's alive, and he's well enough to be eating popsicles and annoying the hell out of the nurses. Just as Mason Landry would. "He's in fast-track."

The nurse gestures towards the double doors leading to the treatment area and smacks a button on the wall that causes the doors to swing open, letting me through.

"Thank you." My voice catches, tears threatening to spill.

I push through the doors and search the bustling department for those chestnut brown waves and the plaid flannel that I would bet Mason is wearing. It doesn't take me long to spot him. He's outstretched on a hospital bed that he is far too big for, holding a bright orange popsicle. He looks up just in time to see me walking through the door, and my gaze meets his deep brown eyes.

The sight of him stops me in my tracks. For a moment, Mason looks stunned, as if I'm the last person he expected to walk through those doors. Then he closes his eyes, shoulders slumping with relief. I have about five seconds to reconcile the simultaneous overwhelming love and the burning rage. He rises from the stretcher as I close the gap between us.

"Don't get up," I say, noticing the sling on his arm, but Mason doesn't sit back down. We regard each other, and I absorb every detail of his face, wanting to etch this moment into memory.

"Of course I'm getting up for you." He says as he makes his way to standing. His mouth opens, but I interrupt him before he can say anything else.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I shove the shoulder that isn't being supported by the sling, but he still winces slightly. Good. Mason can endure some discomfort for the absolute terror he just put me and everyone else who loves him through. My voice is harsh and the words land, making Mason take a small step backwards.

"Me? What about you, future Mrs. Nate Winslow?" Mason reaches down and picks up my hand, expecting to find what, I'm not sure. An engagement ring? He must have seen the video circulating of the party. That sure made its way around quickly.

"How dare you, Mason Landry? You think I would show up here with a ring on my finger? Nate's ring on my finger?" Mason's chest falls as he lets out the breath he had been holding.

His voice lowers an octave as his expression goes serious as he says, "The only ring I want to see on your finger is mine, Honeybee." Mason lifts his functional hand to cup my cheek, and I let my eyes flutter closed at his touch. His thumb brushes my cheek, calloused but still soft, and I soak in the feeling of it on my face.

Until I remember that I'm still mad at him.

"So what made you decide that you had a death wish? I mean, no rationally thinking person would have gotten on that helicopter if they didn't have to." There's still a soft wobble in my voice. I've been terrified for him, and now, admitting that fact feels like I'm opening my chest and exposing my heart.

His smile disappears, and his gaze darkens.

"The fact that I lost you." I wasn't expecting an actual response, but I can tell by his tone that he isn't really joking. "I'm so sorry, Ally." His cracked voice giving away the emotions overtaking him.

"I just," I stammer. The last three hours are hard to fathom enough to put into words. "I thought something happened to you. I saw that video, and I kept thinking that the last time we spoke it was … we were angry with each other."

"I'm not angry with you, Honeybee. Never with you. Even when I thought you had gone back to that scumbag, I was never angry at you. I beat myself up thinking that I was the one who let you go. That I made you feel like you weren't the most important person in the world to me. You are the most important person in the world to me." Mason says as he slides his hand from my cheek around to the back of my head, twining his fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck. I rest my forehead against his chest, minding the arm supported by a sling between us. My tears soak into his T-shirt, and as I pull away, he holds my chin between his thumb and his finger and tips my head back so I'm looking up at him. "But it's okay if you're still angry with me. You have every right to be. You can let yourself be angry with me."

The edges of my outrage have dulled, less sharp now, less painful, but still there.

"Being back there, seeing all the people that only like me when I'm playing small, playing the part they want me to, it made sense to me. It's the intention that counts. And you, Mason Landry, don't have an ounce of ill-intent in your body." Mason's mouth turns up into a soft smile that makes me want to kiss it. "That, and the fact that Spencer gave me a well-deserved verbal spanking."

"Remind me to thank Spencer for that." Mason winks at me.

"Mason, who is Noah?" I blurt. It's the answer to the question I've been carrying around in my heart ever since I got that first glimpse at what makes Mason tick. The last puzzle piece forming a picture of his motivation for giving so much of himself to the clinic.

Mason nods. He sits down on the stretcher and pats the space next to him for me to sit beside him.

Sitting in the fluorescent light of a children's hospital emergency department, cartoon paintings of animals dancing along the walls around us, Mason bares his soul to me.

"Just after I took over the clinic, I had a patient, Noah," Mason starts. "He lived next door to Winnie and she babysat him a lot. Which meant he hung out in the clinic a lot since she was always there." I stay silent, not wanting to move, or breathe, or do anything that might interrupt him. His voice is low, a deep rumble, and the weight of this story is palpable. This talk is a long time coming for him.

"One evening, I got a call from Winnie. Several calls, all of which I missed. I was out on a date with this lovely girl that I had had a crush on since elementary school. I didn't want any interruptions. I couldn't believe I was getting a date with her. There was no way I was ruining it."

I ignore the pang of jealousy I get imagining Mason so excited to be going out with another girl and let him continue. This is Mason's story. It has made him who he is. He wouldn't be Mason without it, and whatever happened, I wouldn't change it. I wouldn't change him.

Mason continues, his eyes still fixed on his lap. "When I got to the clinic, Winnie was there with Noah and his mom. He was limp in her arms." He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, before carrying on. "He had been climbing the big oak tree in their front yard and fell from one of the higher branches. He had lost consciousness but then came to and his mother, Susan, thought he was fine. By the time he came into the clinic, the bleed in his brain had happened so fast."

My throat clenches around a hard lump. Shame and grief are written on Mason's face, the way he is staring down at his lap, refusing to meet my gaze.

"He died that night, and there was nothing I could do to help him." Tears collect on his dark lashes and in a moment of instinct, I shift closer to Mason, taking his hand in mine.

"Hey. Look at me," I say, and he does. His eyes are glassy. "That was not your fault ."

"If I had just gotten there sooner—" he starts.

"Then what? You don't know what would have happened, Mason. With a fall like that, there was nothing you could have done, not in Heartwood. It would have been hours for him to get to a hospital with a CT scanner and even then, there's no guarantee he would have survived."

Mason looks up at me now, pain evident in his eyes. They hold every memory of that moment.

"You are just one person, Mason. You cannot be all things to all people, and you certainly cannot hide yourself away, work yourself into the ground, because of one freak accident."

Mason's eyes flick down to my mouth. In an instant, his lips meet mine, soft but purposeful. When he pulls away, he leans his forehead against mine.

"I didn't mean to use you, Ally," he whispers, and I nod, finally understanding the tangled mess of emotions that he has been grappling with. "I didn't tell you about the funding crisis because, well, first because I was your boss, and it wasn't your problem to fix. But then I started to fall for you, and I cared about you, and I never wanted you to worry about the stability of your job. I truly believed that you could save the clinic. That we could save it, together, before it ever came close to shutting down."

"I see that now, Mason. My heartbreak was so fresh, and I was looking for confirmation that all men are the same. All men are like Nate. I wanted to protect myself from getting hurt again. I didn't know how to do that because I've never learned how to stand up for myself. So I chose to protect myself by running. But it wasn't fair. To you, or to me." I look up into Mason's eyes before uttering the words that I've come here to say. "Promise me this time things will be different, Mason. That you won't close yourself off to me."

"Trust me, Ally. I want things to be different, too. I'm done trying to do this on my own."

Before I can respond, Mason's hand comes up to cradle my face, and his lips meet mine. I melt as his tongue grazes my lips, needy, motivated.

"This is a children's hospital." We pull apart, startled by a voice behind us. Spencer is standing next to the curtain that barely provides any amount of privacy around the stretcher, arms folded, and laughs. "Let's keep things G-rated, shall we?"

Spencer winks at me and gives Mason a very pointed once over. I can't tell if she's checking to make sure he's okay or trying to make him feel judged for what he's put me through. I wouldn't be mad about either. I make brief introductions, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Mason and Spencer haven't met. The two people I love most are here, with me, in the same room, and my heart is whole.

"What a waste of a perfectly good voodoo doll!" Spencer rolls her eyes.

"You made a voodoo doll of me?" Mason stammers. I give him a don't ask look.

To my relief, Mason laughs it off before turning back to me.

"Will you come home with me, Ally? I mean, to Heartwood?" Mason's words don't need clarification. Heartwood is my home now, and I nod, a smile taking over my face.

"What about—" I croak, turning to Spencer. I'm not about to just leave her high and dry after she had come all this way for me.

"Don't worry about me. I'm sure I'll figure something out," Spencer offers and she leans in to give me a peck on the cheek.

"Oh, shut up, I'll figure something out. You're coming back to Heartwood. We can find you a place to stay to wait out the storm," I insist. After everything that Spencer has done for me, it's the least I can do. I'm also hoping that she'll meet Grady and decide to stay in Heartwood a little while longer.

Spencer's mouth opens in protest, but I watch her expression change and her eyes widen, her mouth hanging ajar. Her cheeks flush, the colour almost matching her fiery hair. My head swivels, following her distracted gaze all the way back to the door.

Grady Landry, all six-and-a-half tattooed feet of him, is striding in through the double doors, a rain-soaked T-shirt showing off his muscular biceps.

I shake my head. From the moment I met Grady, I knew he would make Spencer absolutely feral. She's a sucker for men like him, tattooed and burly. Spencer is nothing but predictable.

"Ready to go?" Grady stops beside us, and I notice the brief, almost imperceptible second he takes to let his eyes roam over Spencer.

Spencer nods.She turns to me and shields her mouth with one hand as she mouths the words Oh. My. God. And then I watch her try to regain her composure.

"Yeah, okay. I'll come back to Heartwood with you. Wait out the storm," she says. The corner of my lift quirks up along with one of my eyebrows. This could be dangerous , I think to myself. But out loud, all I say is "We're ready" as I twine my fingers through Mason's. "I'm ready to go home."