Chapter 12

12

Mason

I pushed the front door open, the familiar creak a welcome sound after a long day on the ranch. The warmth from the kitchen spilled out into the hallway, carrying with it the mingled scents of garlic and basil. My boots made dull thuds on the wooden floor as I walked towards the source of the delicious aroma.

“Look, Daddy!” Abby’s voice cut through the air, a bright chime against the background sizzle of something frying. “Chloe taught me how to make spaghetti sauce!”

There they were, my little girl and Chloe, side by side in our kitchen – a sight that had become more common but still filled me with a sense of rightness I couldn’t shake off. Chloe looked up, her hair pulled back into a messy lopsided bun, and her smile was like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place.

“Hey, jellybean,” I said, hanging my hat on the rack and watching them. Abby was kneeling on a chair to get a taller stance. Their heads were close together, Abby’s curls brushing against Chloe’s blonde hair. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“Chloe says I’m a natural.” Abby beamed, stirring the pot with careful concentration. Her gray eyes, so much like mine, sparkled with pride. “We even made garlic bread!”

“Is that right?” I leaned against the doorframe, feeling the tension from the day’s work ebb away. “Well, I reckon we’re gonna have quite the feast tonight.”

“Your daughter has quite the knack for cooking,” Chloe said, her voice soft but clear. “She’s got good instincts – knows just when to add a pinch of this or that.”

“Must get that from my mom,” I joked, unable to take my gaze off Chloe. Her laugh was low, a sound that did funny things to my insides.

“Daddy, you’re a good cook too!”

“Am I now?” I chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Guess you must’ve gotten it from me then.”

The girls laughed as they continued stirring, and Chloe helped Abby navigate the hot stove safely, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I smiled, but something tightened in my chest. How easy it would be to let Chloe into every part of our lives. Too easy.

“Today was the best day ever!” Abby declared, setting down the spoon and jumping off the chair. She sprinted toward me, nearly colliding with my legs in her excitement. “Chloe and I even made cookies for dessert!”

“Sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure here,” I scooped her up into my arms, her laughter filling the room. “And I missed all the fun.”

“We saved some for you,” Abby promised, wrapping her small arms around my neck. “You can help us eat them!”

“Deal.” I set her back down, my heart a tug-of-war of emotions. Relief that she was happy. Concern for how much Chloe’s presence meant to both of us. And something else. Something deeper that I wasn’t ready to name .

“Can we cook together again tomorrow, Chloe?” Abby asked, looking between us with hopeful eyes. Tonight was Friday, which meant Chloe was technically off tomorrow. I was going to step in, so Chloe wouldn’t feel obligated, but she answered before I could.

“Of course, Abby. We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” Chloe glanced at me, her blue eyes holding a silent conversation I wasn’t sure I was ready to have.

“Best team ever!” Abby cheered, running back to the stove, but stopping at a safe distance.

Watching them, a quiet happiness settled over me, but it was threaded with an awareness of the fragile line I was treading. This was about Abby, not the way Chloe’s presence seemed to fill the empty spaces in the house, in our lives. Not about the warmth that wasn’t just from the oven every time she looked my way.

“Looks like I came home to the best part of the day,” I said, and I meant it. Abby’s joy was infectious, and watching the two of them together had become my (secret) favorite daily ritual.

“Hey, Abby, how about we make tonight a movie night?” I suggested, leaning against the kitchen doorway. “You can pick the film, and we’ll have dinner in the living room. Like a picnic, but with a princess or two.”

Abby’s face lit up like I’d just handed her a golden ticket. “Yes! I know just the movie!” she called out, running from the room. “It’s my favorite!”

“Sounds perfect.” I caught Chloe’s eye, giving her a smile that I hoped read as grateful rather than anything . . . more complicated.

“Go on and get set up. We’ll be right behind you,” Chloe called out to Abby.

“Thanks, Chlo,” I said, as soon as Abby was out of earshot. “For everything this week. ”

“Happy to help,” she replied, a hint of color rising to her cheeks.

“Alright, I’m going to grab a quick shower and then I’ll help you set up.” My gaze lingered on Chloe for a moment longer than necessary before I turned to head upstairs. The sound of their laughter followed me, and I had to remind myself to focus on Abby. Don’t dwell on how right it felt having Chloe around.

A plate balanced on my knee, I took a bite of the spaghetti that Chloe had taught Abby to make. The sauce was bursting with flavor.

“Damn sure better than any of them jars I have in the pantry,” I said to Chloe while Abby happily focused on the movie.

On the TV screen, the sword-wielding princess defied another suitor, and Abby hooted with laughter.

“See, daddy? She doesn’t need a prince!” Abby declared with the certainty of a child who believed in the power of magic and self-rescue.

“Looks like she can handle herself just fine.” I agreed, my eyes inadvertently seeking out Chloe. Our glances collided, and something unspoken zinged between us. I quickly refocused on my daughter, who was oblivious to the silent exchange, her attention wholly on the daring princess.

Chloe tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and laughed softly at a scene, and I found myself watching her more than the movie. The light from the TV flickered across her features, highlighting the scar that traced her temple—a stark reminder of a trauma she’d endured. But there was strength there, too, in the curve of her jaw and the set of her shoulders. Strength that resonated with something deep inside me.

“Oops, sorry,” Chloe murmured as our hands brushed when she reached for the garlic bread at the same time I did.

“No worries,” I said, ignoring the fact that the brief contact sent a jolt up my arm. I adjusted my position, trying to appear more engrossed in the movie and less aware of every little thing Chloe did.

“Look, Daddy, she’s fighting the dragon now!” Abby pointed excitedly at the screen, pulling me back into the moment.

“Wow, she sure is brave,” I commented, though my words felt like they were meant for more than just the fictional princess.

Eventually, the credits rolled, the last notes of the adventurous score fading into a quieter song. Abby’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm against my side, her small hand clutching the stuffed horse she’d insisted on bringing downstairs. She’d fought the good fight to stay awake through the entire movie but succumbed to sleep just as the princess reclaimed her kingdom.

“Time for bed, little cowgirl,” I whispered, lifting her gently into my arms. Her head nestled into the crook of my neck, soft curls tickling my skin. I carried her upstairs, steps slow and even to keep from waking her. The nightlight cast a warm glow across her room as I laid her down, tucking the covers snugly around her.

“Sweet dreams, Abby,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her response was a contented sigh, fingers still wrapped tight around her plush friend. I lingered at the doorway, watching her peaceful face. These were the moments that made all the hard work worth it.

As I made my way back downstairs, the clinking of dishes pulled me from my reverie. Chloe stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing away at a skillet that had seen better days .

“Hey, Chlo, you don’t need to do that,” I said, leaning against the kitchen entryway.

She glanced over her shoulder, sending me a wry smile. “I can’t very well let you do all the work when we made the mess. Besides, it’s therapeutic.”

“Therapeutic, huh?” I chuckled, crossing the room to stand beside her. “Well, if scrubbing dishes is therapy, then I reckon we might need to get you a hobby.”

“Maybe so.” Her laughter was light, easy, and it stirred something in me that I tried to tamp down. “But honestly, it’s nothing compared to the day I had with Abby.”

“Oh yeah?” I leaned back against the counter, arms crossed as a smile played on my lips. “Tell me about it.”

She dried her hands on a dish towel, turning to lean back next to me. “Well, we built a fort out of hay bales?—“

“Classic,” I interjected with a grin.

“—and then she declared herself queen of the ranch. I was appointed royal advisor,” Chloe continued, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Sounds like a promotion to me.”

“Definitely. But the best part was just talking with her. She’s so bright, Mason. And funny! You’re doing an incredible job with her.”

“Thanks, Chloe. That means a lot coming from you.” I meant it. Knowing she saw the effort I put into being a good dad to Abby filled me with a pride that swelled from deep within. “She’s my world.”

Chloe’s gaze locked onto mine, a mix of admiration and something else—a depth I couldn’t quite decipher—shining in her blue eyes. “She’s lucky to have you,” she said softly, almost sadly.

“I’m the lucky one. And hey, we’re both lucky to have you. Abigail has been so happy this week, and the weight on my shoulders feels lighter than it has in a damn long time. I appreciate you.” We shared a smile, one of those lingering ones that felt like it held more weight than either of us was willing to admit.

“It’s been helping me, too,” she replied, “and I’m really happy to be here.” There was a promise in those words. A promise of friendship, of support, and maybe, just maybe, something more. But that was a bridge to cross another time.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s leave the rest of these dishes for tomorrow. You earned yourself a break today, royal advisor.”

“Alright, cowboy, if you insist.”

The kitchen felt smaller suddenly, charged with a current that had nothing to do with the flickering bulb above us.

“Looks like you’re comin’ over again tomorrow,” I said, hoping my voice sounded neutral.

“Yeah,” Chloe replied, her fingers brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear—a nervous habit I’d come to recognize. Her blue eyes caught the dim light, shimmering like the surface of the pond out back at dawn.

“You don’t have to. It’s your day off.”

“I know, but I’d like to. I like spending time with her.”

“I like havin’ you here.” The words slipped out smoother than I intended, and I cursed myself silently for not being able to put a lid on it all—the warmth, the yearning.

Chloe smiled, but it was a cautious one. “I like being here. Your home is warm. Safe.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. I want you to know you’re welcome in it.” It was like everything we said had subtext. Or maybe that was just me.

“That means a lot to me.”

I took a step closer, drawn by some magnetic pull I couldn’t resist. I could smell her and it made me ache. “Means a lot to me too.”

We stood there, in a bubble of silence, the space between us crackling with something unspoken. I could see the pulse fluttering at the base of her neck, a telltale sign of her nerves—or was it excitement?

“Look, Mason . . .” She started, then stopped, chewing on her lower lip.

“Chlo, we—“ I began simultaneously, and we both chuckled awkwardly.

“Go ahead,” she urged.

“Okay.” I ran a hand through my hair, buying time. “I reckon you feel something here too. But I know you don’t want anything other than friendship. And Abby’s our priority anyway. So I promise, I’m gonna try to keep things . . . professional.”

“Right, professional.” She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper as her eyes glanced down at my lips.

“Exactly.” I echoed, though every fiber in me protested. I wanted to tell her about the electricity I felt, that I suspected she felt it too—but I couldn’t. Not now. It wouldn’t be fair to her or to Abby.

We stood there for a moment. Or maybe an hour. Who the hell knew, at this point. But it was like some electrifying standoff where neither of us dared to move or else we’d do something we’d surely regret.

Then finally she spoke.

“Goodnight, Mason.” She stepped back, breaking the spell as she headed toward the door.

“Night, Chlo.” I watched her go, the air cooling in her absence.

I stood there for a long time after she left, the weight of her gaze still imprinted on my skin. I could smell the faint trace of lavender from her shampoo lingering in the air, teasing my senses. It was like the damn scent was embedded in the walls now, or maybe just etched into my brain.

“Get a grip,” I muttered to myself, flicking off the lights and making my way to the couch. The cushions still held the memory of our bodies close together, watching that princess wield her sword like it was nobody’s business. Abby had been nestled between us then, a living reminder of what mattered most.

I flopped down, resting my head back and closing my eyes. Abigail needed Chloe, I reminded myself firmly. But Chloe . . . well, she was good for me too. For my heart, which hadn’t felt this kind of tug since . . .

“Stop it,” I growled, frustrated.

But the truth was a stubborn thing; it lingered even when unwelcome. I couldn’t deny that Chloe had stirred something awake in me. Something I thought I’d buried deep alongside past hurts and missed opportunities.

The house was silent now, but the quiet felt charged, as if it were a living thing waiting for the next move. I knew sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight. Not with Chloe’s soft smile haunting me, not with the echoes of our laughter still bouncing off the walls.

But as I finally dragged myself up the stairs, my hand tracing the banister where her delicate fingers had glided only hours before, I couldn’t shake the unsettling thrill of what-if. Every step seemed to echo with the beat of my own treacherous heart, pounding out a rhythm of possibilities.

“Damn it,” I cursed softly as I reached the top, pausing outside Abby’s door. She slept peacefully, the very picture of innocence and trust, reminding me once again of my priorities. I was doing this for her. All of it. Even the keeping my distance part .

With one last glance at her calm face, I retreated to my own room, feeling the full force of the night’s events crashing down on me. The bed was cold as I slipped beneath the sheets, an empty expanse without the warmth of another person beside me—a stark reminder of the solitude I’d grown accustomed to.

And as I lay there in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, the anticipation of what might unfold with Chloe—the taste of that unresolved tension—settled over me like a second skin. I rolled over, punched my pillow, and let out a long breath, knowing full well that whatever lay ahead, this small town wasn’t big enough to hide from the truth forever.

I could keep my feelings locked down. I could.

But even as I tried to convince myself of that, I knew I was already looking forward to tomorrow, to the briefest glimpse of blonde hair and blue eyes that seemed to see right through me. And that, whether I liked it or not, meant everything was about to change.

Two minutes later, I got up to shower again and get some relief. I had a feeling I’d be having a lot of those in the coming days, too.