Chapter 8

8

Mason

The schoolyard was empty, nothing but leaves blowing across the grass as I rushed passed the gates and into the main entrance. My gut was tight, a coiled spring, and there was this hitch in my breath I couldn’t quite shake. Where was my little spitfire?

“Abby!” The word was out before I could think it through, my voice bouncing off the walls and turning heads.

“Hi, Daddy!” Her laughter dances through the air, giving me a sense of relief I didn’t know I needed.

I followed the sound through the main office door, and there she was. My girl, her brown curls bouncing as she talked animatedly with someone kneeling in front of her. Someone who definitely shouldn’t be there.

Chloe.

My steps faltered, confusion tangling up with the relief inside me. Why was Chloe at Abby’s school? No reason for her to be there that I could reckon and the sight of the two of them, all smiles together, did something to stir up a peculiar rage in my gut .

She was crouched down to Abby’s level, nodding along to whatever tale my daughter’s spinning, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Hey, Daddy,” Abby said again as she waved, all gap-toothed grin and sparkling gray eyes, so much like her momma’s.

“Hey, jellybean,” I managed to answer, but my gaze was fixed on Chloe, trying to puzzle out what brought her from Sunshine Acres to here.

“Chloe came to see me!” Abby declared, as if reading my mind. “She said you were busy with the horses.”

“Did she now?” My eyebrows knitted together while I tried to hide the surprise edging into my voice.

“Uh-huh!” Abby nodded vigorously. “We were talking about Mr. Snuggles’ new haircut!”

“Mr. Snuggles, huh?” I played along, but my attention drew back to Chloe, who stood slowly, dusting off her jeans, her scar catching the light as she moved. There was an uneasiness about her, like a deer aware it’d wandered into unfamiliar territory.

“Hey, Mason,” she said, her voice soft, almost lost in the office sounds around us. There was a hesitance there, a flicker of something in her blue eyes that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“Chloe.” It comes out gruffer than I intended, the confusion getting the better of me. “What brought you by?”

Her lips parted, maybe to explain, but we were interrupted before she could speak.

Abby’s teacher rushed into the room, her eyes locking onto me. She had that look. The one that said something was up but she’d been trying to keep it all sunshine and rainbows.

“Mr. Bridges?” Her voice was even, but there’s an undercurrent of ‘this ain’t protocol.’

“Something wrong?” I asked, my watchful gaze sliding from Abby’s bright smile to the teacher’s carefully neutral expression. She motioned with her arm to follow her out the door and I did.

“Chloe here,” she gestured with a tilt of her head, “came to pick up Abby a little while ago.”

“Is that right?” My eyes find Chloe again, who was now fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

“Thing is,” Miss Parker continued, “she isn’t listed as an authorized person for pick-up. We couldn’t release Abigail into her care without your written consent.”

“Ah.” A single word, heavy with understanding. “Thank you for that. Do you know what happened to Mrs. Henderson?”

“She had an accident, apparently. She fell and was taken to the hospital.”

“Why the hell didn’t she text me?” My anger was tinged with shame now, and I immediately regretted my words the second I saw Miss Parker take a step back.

I sighed. “Sorry. I was just worried. It’s not like her, is all.”

“That’s my fault. I told her I’d contact you to let you know. Which I did, assuming it was your cell phone. But apparently it wasn’t.” She looked at Chloe, who had joined us.

“Sorry, I just—“ Chloe started, her voice trembling like a leaf in a breeze. “I was doing laundry at your place, like you said I could, and I heard the message she left. About Mrs. Henderson and no one being there to pick up Abby. And you were?—“

“Out with the horses,” I finished for her, nodding slowly.

“Yeah.” She looked down, then back up, those blue eyes holding mine. “You were out at the ranch and I didn’t want her to be alone, stuck here, waiting.”

“That wasn’t your call to make. You don’t even know us.” My voice comes out sharper than I intended, but before I could think about it, the words spewed out. “You can’t just show up here. There are rules for a reason. ”

She flinched, like I’d struck her, and it felt like a bucket of cold water down my back. Her eyes, usually so bright, dim with an emotion I couldn’t quite place—hurt, maybe, or disappointment. I could see her retreating behind that wall she puts up when she’s scared.

“Sorry,” she murmured, her voice quivering just enough to knock some sense into me. “I was just trying to help.”

“Chlo, I—“ I started, but the words knotted up in my throat. The sight of her standing there, so small and wounded, hit me hard. I’m a protector by nature, and here I was, causing pain to someone who’d only tried to help. Someone who I just knew had been through too much already.

“Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it like that.” I reached out, wanting to take it back, make it right. But she’d drawn into herself, and I’d never felt more like a bull in a china shop. “I appreciate it, really. Just caught me off guard, is all.”

Her gaze flicked away, as if unable to look me in the eye. I felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. Abby was sweet on her, and I reckon I wasn’t far behind. Wasn’t the time to dwell on that, though. Had to fix this mess first.

“I’m sorry,” she said, backing away and turning to leave.

A lump formed in my throat, heavy like a lead weight. I watched Chloe’s back, the way her shoulders curved inward—a shield against the world, maybe even against me now.

Dammit.

The words hung, delicate and final, and she stepped forward, away from me. It was like watching the last ray of sun dip behind the horizon—something vital slipping away.

“Chloe, wait!” My voice cracked, rough as old leather. My hand shot out, an instinct I didn’t know I had, fingertips brushing the sleeve of her shirt. Contact. It’s brief, fleeting, but laden with a silent plea.

She halted, barely, a statue poised mid-stride. I couldn’t see her face, but I imagined it, those blue eyes clouded with doubt. Could she feel the raw urgency in my touch? The unspoken promise that I’m not the jerk I just sounded like?

“Chlo . . .” Her name was a prayer on my lips, and everything rode on that moment.

But then she was gone, like a wisp of smoke caught in a stiff breeze. The door swung shut behind Chloe with a click that echoed in the sudden silence of the school hallway. I was left standing there, my hand still hanging in the air, reaching for something that was gone.

I turned to see Abby bounding towards me, her brown curls bouncing with each step. She was all smiles and sunshine, unaware of the storm that just blew through. A little pang shot through me—she shouldn’t have to witness her old man messing up like this.

“Hey, Ab,” I said, forcing a grin as I scooped her up into my arms. Her tiny hands locked around my neck, pure trust and love in her grip.

“What’s wrong with Ms. Chloe?” Abby asked, her gray eyes wide with that innocent curiosity only a kid could manage.

“Uh,” I reply, setting her down and taking her hand. “She had to run off somewhere.”

“Will she come play horsies with us again?” Abby’s other hand tugged at the cuff of my sleeve, her hopeful expression doing all sorts of flips in my chest.

“Sure hope so, Abs,” I murmured, though I wasn’t so sure.

We walked to the car, the gravel crunching beneath our steps, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside me. I helped Abby into her booster seat, clicking the belt into place with practiced ease. She hummed some tune from a cartoon that was always playing on our TV, oblivious to the chaos of adult emotions .

“Strap’s too tight, Daddy!” Abby protested, and I loosened it a notch, careful not to let my agitation show. Ain’t her fault her dad’s got the emotional finesse of a wild stallion.

“Better?” I asked, and she nodded, content once more.

“Thanks!” Her smile was like a patch of blue sky on a cloudy day.

“Anytime, kiddo.”

I slid into the driver’s seat, my mind a mess of thoughts about Chloe. How do I fix this? What can I say to make it right? ‘Sorry’ didn’t feel good enough. It seemed like a word meant for bumping into someone or not holding the door long enough. Not the kind of fuck up that clearly triggered some bone-deep emotions.

“Chloe’s nice,” Abby chattered from the back, pulling me from my reverie. “She gives the best piggyback rides.”

“Yeah, she is nice.” My voice came out soft, almost wistful. I turned the key in the ignition, the engine rumbling to life, grounding me back to the present.

As we pulled away from the school, I glanced in the rearview mirror, catching sight of Abby’s happy face. She deserved a world full of piggyback rides and laughter. And maybe, just maybe, I wanted Chloe to be part of that world too.

“Can we get ice cream?” Abby piped up, a new sparkle in her eyes as she spotted the familiar parlor up ahead.

“Reckon that’s the best idea you’ve had all day,” I said, a genuine warmth in my voice now. Ice cream ain’t gonna fix what I broke with Chloe, but it’s a start—a sweet distraction while I figure out how to mend things.

“Yay!” Abby clapped her hands, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Chocolate okay? ”

“Double chocolate!”

“Double chocolate it is.”

As I park the truck, I made a promise to myself, to Abby, and to Chloe, even if she wasn’t there to hear it—I was gonna set things right. No matter what it took.