38. Hannah

Hannah

“ Y ou look beautiful,” Mason murmurs roughly when he opens my door to the truck.

I wish that were enough to quell my nerves.

My stomach is in knots, standing outside of the daunting Monica Parker’s house. The Santa Monica mansion is huge, though not nearly as big as the old Paker estate.

When Mason asked me to come with him to a family get-together, I’d thought surely, he’d lost his fucking mind.

I mean, his mother. The dowager queen of the I hate Hannah club .

He helps me down and I teeter from the anxiety rushing through me, as I try to keep my pale green sundress from showing everyone, including his mother, my ass and the very prominent bite mark on it. Suddenly, I feel stupid in my dress covered in daisies. I mean, these are the Carpenters. The epitome of Los Angeles fashion.

I may as well have worn a paper bag.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Mason stops, stepping forward and taking my face between his hands.

“It’s you and me, right?”

“It’s a big step,” I whisper and he chuckles softly, his rough calloused thumb stroking over my cheek. Normally, I’d be a puddle at his feet, but right now, it barely takes the edge off.

“It is.”

“It could create a big rift between you and your family.”

“It could.”

“And you’re sure you want to do this?”

“Yep.”

I work my brain to come up with any excuse that could get me the hell away from Monica Parker’s swanky mansion and cold stare, but nothing comes to mind. Not when her son’s looking at me like he’s planning all the ways he’s going to devour me later.

“You and me?” I repeat after him, my voice squeaking when it comes out.

“You and me, baby,” he nods, pressing the softest kiss to my lips that makes my knees feel noticeably weaker. “I don’t fit into my mother’s world, but . . . I’d like to show her mine.”

My eyes go wide, my heart stalling in my chest, but before I can speak, he presses a rough kiss to the top of my head, takes my hand, and tugs me toward the backyard.

God, I hope he can’t feel how clammy my palm is.

Monica’s house is nowhere near as extreme as the Malibu fortress that was the Parker estate, but it’s damn near close. The place is huge and straight out of an old Hollywood film.

Parker Estate felt cold. Desecrated and bloodstained. What had once been a grand mansion had been turned into a breeding ground for drugs and rapists.

Now, this new house feels brighter. Less formidable. There’s still a stone wall surrounding the house—make no mistake about that, but the sun shines a little brighter here. The air seems breezier coming in off the Pacific. Things just feel . . . calm. Light.

The back yard is full of chatter when Mason pulls me through the gate, his hand tightening as if I’m going to tuck and run as soon as I set foot on the terrace.

“You and me, little doe,” he murmurs quietly and he’s right.

If I can make it through this, I can make it through anything.

“Mason!” Bailey Carpenter screeches, darting forward and throwing her arms around him for a hug. I attempt to step back and let go of Mason’s hand, but he remains steadfast, his fingers only tightening.

So, I stand there awkwardly.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Bailey groans, pulling back.

And then her eyes land on me.

Then they shoot back to Mason with a worried glance.

Then, they fall on me again.

Suddenly, the entire yard is silent. All eyes are on me and I’m certain this is the part where pitchforks and torches come out to play.

And that’s why I opted for sneakers instead of heels.

“Hi, Bailey,” I try my best smile, but I’m sure it comes out as more of a pained grimace.

“Bailey,” Mason murmurs darkly. “You remember Hannah.”

Bailey falls back another step, teetering on surprise and concern.

Can’t say I blame her. I don’t know what to do, either.

“She’s . . .” she starts and I know she’s pointing out the elephant in the room. I’m Melissa Gaines’ sister. Her twin.

“Mine,” Mason replies without blinking an eye as if anyone would try to challenge him.

“Well,” a soft voice that sends a shiver down my spine rings out from behind Bailey. “She certainly is beautiful”

“Mom,” Mason greets and she pulls him into a hug while Bailey stares at literally anything but me. “You’ve met Hannah.”

“Oh, I’ve seen her before, but I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to speak to her. I’ve always admired her pretty red hair.” She turns to me and I’m sure this is the moment all hell breaks loose.

So, imagine my surprise when she pulls me into a hug.

I freeze, unsure what to do. It feels like I’m holding the pin to a grenade and if I let my guard down for even a second, shit’s going to hit the fan.

Clumsily, I hug her back and Mason gives my hand a squeeze.

“Monica Parker, dear,” she says, pulling back to look at me, her soft voice reminding me of an old film star. “And I’m so happy you came. You know, Mason never tells us about his life.”

Worry pools in my stomach. Mason be damned, I can’t stay here if I’m not welcome.

“Monica,” I start, dropping my voice. “I understand if you’d like me to leave. I know—”

“Stop that,” she cuts me off, stepping beside me to wrap an arm around my shoulders. She steers me toward the back yard where everyone is still watching us while pretending not to. “Tell me, has my son been treating you well?”

I debate on making a joke but stop myself. Things are far too tense for that at the moment.

“He has,” I admit quietly, while Mila comes over to hug Mason. Finally, he lets go of my hand and butterflies swarm the inside of my stomach at the heaviness in his gaze when he steps away.

“Good. You know, he’s a lot like his father,” Monica says softly. “Strong and loyal to a fault. He’s a good man.”

Is this the part where she warns me away from her son?

My stomach falls to my toes in distress.

“You’re a good girl, too. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” I pause for a beat, looking at her. Bright blue eyes like Savannah and Bailey. Soft, gentle smile.

She’s nothing like the shell of a woman she was before. I’m happy for her.

“Now, come. Let me introduce you to everyone.”

“That’s okay,” I stammer, even as she pulls me along beside her. I look back at Mason who just snickers and shakes his head, his eyes glinting with something like a promise for later. “I’m not sure they’d care for that.”

“Nonsense,” she lowers her voice, now that Mason’s out of earshot. She stops by the edge of the large in-ground pool and watches the water ripple in the late evening sun. “Let me tell you a story, Hannah.”

“Okay,” I nod nervously.

“My aunt and mother were twins. Not many know that, but it’s true. They were incredibly close growing up, but they went down different paths in life. My aunt was convicted of stabbing her husband and died in a prison cell in upstate New York.”

“Oh my God.”

“My mother went on to marry one of the richest men in the state.”

“Monica . . . why are you telling me this?”

“To tell you, you aren’t to blame for what your sister became,” she smiles, but instead of the softness she’d displayed earlier, there’s a fierce maternal instinct in her gaze. “I think it’s time you stopped beating yourself up over it, don’t you?”

I stare at her for a moment, tears burning in the backs of my eyes.

“I . . . I don’t know how.”

I’ve never said that out loud before.

Monica takes my hand, patting it gently. “It’s time to learn. We’re all a little fucked-up around here, dear. You’re just another one of us.”

Across the yard, I can feel Mason’s eyes on me and when I glance at him, the carefree smile is gone and replaced with a look of protectiveness.

“My son’s in love with you, you know?” Monica says, following my gaze across the yard.

“I don’t think we’re quite there yet.”

“No?” She leans forward, to lower her voice. “Sometimes, it only takes a moment.”

Then she straightens as if she said nothing at all and takes my hand.

“Come. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

If I can say anything about the Carpenters, it’s that they know how to feed an army.

It’s normal food, thankfully—no fish in sight. Cheeseburgers (nowhere near as good as Mason’s, but they’ll do), steak, potatoes in multiple forms, desserts, and drinks.

Once Monica and I come back to the party, everyone seems to have accepted me. Or at least, they aren’t staring me down anymore. As soon as I come back to Mason, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me into his side.

“Okay?” His voice is rough and his stubble against my skin sends a shiver down my spine.

“Okay,” I nod, thinking back on what Monica had said.

My son’s in love with you, you know?

I don’t want to get my hopes up, but judging by the look in his eyes when he nods, it’s hard not to believe her.

Dinner is an easy affair with everyone sitting down to eat and chatting animatedly. It’s nice to see them all so . . . easygoing. Everyone’s having a good time. No one’s mentioned Marcus Parker or Melissa Gaines and I’m even pulled into the conversation.

For once, I feel normal. Like I belong and not an outsider looking in.

Mason must pick up on this because he squeezes my bare thigh under the table, his thumb running in circles over the goosebumps on my skin.

He smirks at me when a shiver racks through me. Asshole knows what he’s doing.

“Who’s that?” I ask Mason quietly when an older man comes around the corner of the house. He’s probably around Monica’s age, gray hair, but it’s his eyes that stop me.

He looks kind. Gentle.

“Hope I’m not too late,” the man says, holding up a bottle of some wine I can’t pronounce.

Monica is the first to jump up.

“Of course not, darling. You’re just in time.”

Mason stiffens beside me, even as the man’s gentle gaze sweeps over all of us.

“Let me introduce you to my kids,” Monica says. She names everyone, even me, which surprises me, before wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Everyone, this is Bob. He’s a very good friend of mine.”

Judging by the way Bob snickers and blushes, I’d be willing to bet they’re a little more than just friends.

“He’s her boyfriend,” Mila mutters, rolling her eyes. Surprisingly, she’s been quiet tonight. Moody. Unusual for her.

Monica actually blushes. “Thank you, Mila. Yes, Bob and I have been seeing each other.”

“You didn’t tell me that?” Bailey scolds and Savannah nods.

“Well, forgive me for not outing it to the world.” Monica looks at Bob, a tender smile pulling on her lips. “It’s new. We only just started seeing each other. We met at group counseling.”

“Sounds like a match made in heaven,” Bailey grumbles, taking a drink of sweet tea while the man beside her, her husband, Charlie, shakes his head and says something quietly in her ear. “Right now?”

He doesn’t say anything, but Bailey must understand the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Fine.”

Sliding back from the table, she retreats into the house.

“What’s that about?” I ask Mason quietly, who just shakes his head, his jaw ticking.

Uh-oh.

“Mom, I have a gift for you.”

Bailey returns, placing a small bag in front of Monica at the head of the outdoor table. She looks at it, looks at Bailey, looks at Charlie, then looks back at the bag.

“ I knew it ,” she mumbles under her breath, tearing at the tissue paper inside.

Finally, she produces an impossibly small newborn onesie.

Holy shit.

Mason’s hand tightens on my thigh, but he doesn’t say anything as Monica starts balling her eyes out.

“I knew it,” she cries, throwing her arms around Bailey and then, Charlie when he joins them. “When are you due?”

“Six months,” Bailey says, cheeks flaming. “And don’t get your hopes up. We’re waiting until he’s born to tell everyone the sex.” She pauses for a moment as cheers erupt. “Shit.”

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” Monica beams. “A grandson,” she tells Bob, who shakes Charlie’s hand.

I place my hand over Mason’s squeezing his palm and he interlocks our fingers, his gaze searing into mine. His words from last night float through my mind. They seem like such a lifetime ago, but now, I can’t get them out of my head.

The Brethren may be breathing down our neck. The cartel . . . my mother . . . but it’s comforting to know that even in these times, something good can come out of the darkness.

“What did I miss?”

Everyone turns as Logan Prince strolls into the back yard, and for the first time since I met him, he’s not wearing a suit and tie. He looks handsome in a button-up and jeans, almost normal if it weren’t for the devilish smirk on his face.

“We’re going to have a baby!” Monica cries as he takes his place by Savannah and brings her in for a kiss.

“Sorry I’m late,” he murmurs quietly, stroking a hand over her cheek.

“It’s okay. You came.”

“You’ll be coming later.”

Mason clears his throat and Logan just snickers at Savannah’s blushing cheeks.

“Where’s Christian?” Mason asks, scanning the yard. Is it bad that I find solace in the uncomfortable silence that follows because, for once, it’s not because of me? “I haven’t seen him.”

Monica hushes Mason, placing a hand on his shoulder, and pinning him with her gaze.

“What?” he asks, completely oblivious and Monica sighs.

“He left,” Mila murmurs darkly, eyes burning with something repressed I have come to know all too well. She shrugs. “Guess he got all he was after here.”

“Mila,” Monica admonishes, but Mila just shakes her head, disappearing into the house.

“What happened?” Mason asks, cocking a brow and Monica purses her lips.

“Well, you know your sister. Always wears her heart on her sleeve. He went back to New York. I guess he has family there.”

I want to ask who Christian is, but I know—for once—that now’s not a good time.

“You should go speak to her,” Monica urges, but Mason shakes his head.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’ll go,” Bailey chimes softly. “She’s going to want to hear it from a woman, anyway.”

Monica nods and Bailey retreats to the house.

“Don’t tell me . . .” Mason grumbles and Monica nods.

“Afraid so.”

“Anyone want dessert?” she asks cheerfully, glossing over the elephant in the room. “Or a drink?” she mutters, downing the rest of her champagne.

“Oh, to be young again, my dear,” Bob laughs, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

I give Mason a squeeze of my hand, who still watches the door Mila and Bailey disappeared through as if he could set it on fire with his eyes.

“You can’t stop it,” I whisper so only he can hear me.

“I can.”

“Remember when they tried to stop you from seeing me?”

His eyes find mine and I watch as the anger softens in his gaze.

He pulls me into him, pressing a kiss to my lips.

But he doesn’t say another word.