14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Cameron

Warmth from my cigarette spread through my fingers as I sat in the safety of my truck, observing the farmhouse, mustering the courage to go inside. Sunlight kissed the dark metal roof and reflected off the enormous windows. Sophia’s grandpa, Silas, used to have me clean each and every one of them twice a week before he passed. There were forty-eight in total, but it didn’t feel like that many. Around each of the windows was a set of black shutters that popped against the white vinyl siding.

In the middle of it all sat the front door, the one change Sophia had made to the exterior. When Silas lived here, he had an old, creaky door that had more scratches than paint. The first night after they moved in, Sophia said she couldn’t sleep right because it didn’t feel safe for Lucian’s kids. So, the next day, we hopped into my truck and drove to the hardware store, where she picked out a rose-red door.

“ Don’t you think that’s a little much for the old farmhouse? “ I asked her.

She gave me a knowing smile and replied, “ Of course not! Everyone who comes to our house will know there’s love inside. ”

That expedition was the first time I truly enjoyed being around her. Before then, I thought she and Luce were both spoiled rich kids with more dollars than sense. Silas sure as hell made them sound that way. He never spoke ill of them, but I’d made judgements based on the tales he’d spin of the two. Lucian was a star athlete whose folks paid for all his bills when he moved out and couldn’t find a job. And Sophia was an all-American girl. She did beauty pageants and cheerleading; she was homecoming queen. Based on her hobbies, I assumed she wasn’t the brightest.

But when I met her, she turned all my assumptions upside-down. She seemed to know everything about everyone. She said she was just good at reading people, but still, that was a talent.

As the sunlight seeped through my window and warmed my cheeks, I was surprised nobody was out on the wraparound porch. It was a nice day, probably one of the last ones we’d have before the chill of Maine claimed what was left of September. Glancing at my watch, I realized we only had about an hour of daylight left. Everyone else was probably having supper.

I’d been at the church for way longer than I’d liked. Each of the elders asked a thousand questions about the mission trip. Did I recruit anybody? What community service did I do? They were especially curious about whether or not I had done the one thing I was supposed to. I told them all no, but that was a lie.

Sophia texted me hours ago to let me know her morning with Mason went well, and that she was open to the idea of joining our relationship. She just needed time. That should’ve made me happy; Mason seemed great. But it felt dirty that she was linked to me through the baby. If that fact got back to my congregation, she’d never meet Lavender. Neither of us would.

A family wasn’t meant for me, and it was best to keep her at arm’s length... Even if that meant letting her fall for a creep like Sebastian.

I couldn’t put my finger on what was off about that boy. His presence sent chills down my spine. It was like something was missing in his gaze—a necessary component, the absence of which made him seem inhuman. But I tried to chalk my suspicions up to my hatred of cops.

As I sat there, my gaze shifted from the farmhouse to the cigarette in my hand, its ember flickering and fading. I took one last drag, savoring the bitter nicotine on my lips before flicking it through the window.

I couldn’t let myself become the anchor that dragged Mason down, but I felt more than a little guilty for knocking her up. I also felt this…warmth around her, almost too strong to ignore. Those feelings were a dangerous mix, and I knew our future was entirely in God’s hands. Unfortunately, that sadistic fuck had plans for me.

With a heavy sigh, I opened the truck door and stepped onto the gravel path leading to the farmhouse. The crunching of gravel beneath my boots echoed in my ears. I ran a few fingers along the door, reveling in the memory of Sophia before opening it. Warm light spilled out, and the sound of forks on plates stopped as I removed my shoes.

“Welcome home, Cam! How was church?” Sophia chirped as I headed toward the dining room.

I fought the urge to wrinkle my nose in disgust. I wasn’t keen on being a pastor, especially right now. But this was the life Dale had chosen for me, and it wasn’t one I could walk away from.

“Same as always,” I muttered, taking the spot between her and Lucian.

I grabbed the salad, hoping it’d been made by Lucian, and loaded my plate before moving on to the pesto pasta. Then I noticed the rest of the chairs were empty, and my brow furrowed.

“Is Mason with Sebastian?” I asked.

“Seb isn’t home.” Lucian poked at his salad, pushing food around but making no attempt to eat it.

“Oh… Then where is she?” I wasn’t exactly looking forward to a meal with her, but pregnant women needed to eat.

“In Seb’s apartment… Lucian scared her away.”

Lucian’s silverware smacked off the table with enough force to cause ripples in Sophia’s glass of lemonade.

“I did not!” he huffed. As he shrunk into his chair, I could tell he wasn’t being truthful.

“Oh, sorry. Lucian told her she’d be a bad mom,” Sophia corrected.

“I did not—” a sharp look from Sophia stopped Lucian’s protest. “If you want to get technical, I told her that James didn’t love her, which is true.”

“...Who’s James?” I vaguely remembered Mason talking about a fiancé when we met. Was that the guy?

“James Albright, her dad, who I’m sure loves Mason very much,” Sophia explained. “Even if he is a little... confused.”

“Confusion leads to getting lost, not forcing your pregnant daughter to starve herself,” Lucian grumbled.

His aside caused a full-on argument to break out between the two of them. But I was used to Lucian and Sophia bickering. She swore up and down that he wasn’t this angry when they were younger, but I had never known Lucian to be any other way. Part of me wondered if these two would have ever been able to stay together in a monogamous relationship, but now certainly wasn’t the time to bring that up.

I wanted to check on Mason, even if it was a bad idea. She wasn’t mine to take care of, but it wasn’t right for me to leave her alone with the problems I’d caused for her.

My chair squeaked as I stood, drawing their attention.

“And where are you going?” Lucian asked.

“I, uh, I’m gonna go check on Mason.”

Lucian shouted something in response, but I was already hurrying up the stairs, not wanting to talk about this more than I had to. I’d just do a quick wellness check, nothing more.

I moseyed through the massive second floor of the house, eventually coming face to face with the large white door that separated Sebastian’s apartment from the rest of the house. Instinctively I reached for the knob and twisted, but the metal didn’t budge.

Real nice move there, Cameron . What would I have even done if it opened? Apologize for barging into her apartment and leave?

I took a deep breath before threading my fingers into my hair. Nothing about what I was doing was wrong, and I needed to remind myself nothing bad would come out of simply making sure Mason was okay.

With my thoughts collected, I rapped on the door three times. And when I got silence, I knocked again.

“ Une petite seconde !“ Mason called.

Just a second.

The tension in my shoulders dropped as I exhaled. It shouldn’t have shocked me that Mason spoke French—we met in France, after all—but it was the first time I had ever heard it.

There was a subtle shuffling from behind the door, followed by the sliding of a lock. When it finally opened, Mason stood in front of me, looking like she was about ten minutes past her bedtime. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she had lilac circles under her eyes.

“Cameron.” She swayed from one foot to the other before leaning against the door frame. “Can I help you?”

I swallowed hard as I met her gaze. There was something hypnotic about her eyes, and I soon found myself lost between the bluest skies and the darkest night. My face went hot as I realized she was studying me just like I was her.

“They’re uh… Luce and Soph are hollerin’ at each other, and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with them.” My lie seemed plausible, thanks to the fact that we could hear their far-off argument.

Mason’s shoulder slumped slightly as she rubbed her neck. “They’re not fighting about me, are they?”

How the hell did she know that?

“Uh, not exactly. They’re just like this.” I forced a laugh.

The corners of Mason’s lips twitched into a small frown, one that vanished as quickly as it started.

“Can I come in?” I asked, “Just for a bit.”

“I’m not doing anything interesting. But... if you want to watch me read until I eventually fall asleep on the couch, you’re welcome to join me.”

I tried to keep the confusion off my face.

“Is this what you do every night?”

She nodded. “Either books, video games, or horror movies. I don’t like to sleep in a bed when I don’t have a partner… it feels lonely.”

That was kinda cute, especially for someone who seemed as tough as Mason. Seeing as how we met at a rock concert, I assumed she was more into loud music, sex, and alcohol.

“I ain’t much better,” I admitted. “I have a stockpile of Stephen King books on my nightstand… Man’s a literary genius.”

Mason nodded as she shifted from one foot to the other.

“Here, let’s get you off your feet.” I was trying to be helpful, but Mason swatted me away.

“I’m pregnant, not disabled,” she curtly reminded me before walking herself into the apartment.

I followed at her heels, trying not to trip over Sebastian’s dining table. He had it right up against the front door, almost. Looking around, I realized there was really no other place for it. Was this place even big enough to bring a baby home?

I tried to push the thought from my mind as Mason settled into the couch and cocooned herself in a fuzzy navy blanket. Just the sight of that thing had me sweating. It was too damn hot in this apartment for her to be cuddling up under covers.

“You get cold easy?” I asked as I sat on the other end of the couch.

She nodded. Not surprising, considering she was about five pounds away from being skin and bone.

Mason stretched out a little, letting her toes poke out of the blanket as she took up a little more of the middle cushion and grabbed her book. I had proof that she was fine; it was time for me to go.

“Do you have any cravings?” I asked.

She eyed me, shocked, like I had just asked what color underwear she had on.

“Ain’t asking for any reason other than curiosity,” I explained.

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“But satisfaction brought it back.” I finished the saying for her.

Her inharmonious gaze bore into mine. Mason had the type of face that didn’t feel real—like a painting, or an overly-edited picture of a model. But she was real, living and breathing right in front of me.

“From the pictures you showed me, your daughter is gonna be the spittin’ image of her mama.” Thankfully. “I’m just curious if she’s got any of my traits.”

“Like what? Your accent?” She laughed like I’d said something dumb, but I let her weak attempt at venom roll off me. I was used to dealing with Lucian’s mouth, and Mason was a saint compared to him.

“Well, I once read that it’s not uncommon for mothers to crave foods that their… sperm donors—” Was that a good way to say that? “—like to eat. I got one hell of a sweet tooth.”

A look of embarrassment twisted her features before she buried her nose in her book. “That’s not true.”

I shrugged. I’d pulled that fact out of my ass, so I wasn’t bothered if she didn’t believe it. “Thought you’d be a good way to test that.”

Mason ignored me as she tried and failed to turn the page in her book. She then licked her finger before flipping the page. What a gross habit.

My mouth went dry as I tried to search for a topic that would help her open up instead of shutting me down. I studied the cover of her book, I Think My Neighbor is a Vampire! , and I realized it was the same one Sophia had bought on our last trip to the bookstore. I thought it sounded dumb, but to each their own. I didn’t really take Mason for someone who would read romance novels, so I wondered if she was settling for whatever books we had on hand.

“If ya want, we can make a trip to–”

“Do you like ice cream?” she interrupted, putting her book down to look at me.

“I uh… yeah, but only soft serve.” The regular stuff gave me heartburn, but I wasn’t keen to tell her that.

“... Do you like ice cream?”

Mason looked at me like that was a trick question, and I remembered Luce saying something about her dad making her starve herself. Usually, I took everything Lucian said with a grain of salt; his heart was good, he was just dramatic. But, as she shifted uncomfortably under the weight of my question, I wondered if there was any merit to his comment.

“Can I be honest with ya?” I asked.

“Preferably.”

I took a deep breath as I prepared myself for what I was fixing to say. Going out in public with Mason was a bad idea, but my congregation usually only gathered in Hartwood. It wasn’t like I was gonna ask her on a date or anything, either. I was just taking care of my baby mama.

It was the right thing to do.

“Soph’s been really gettin’ on me about my eatin’ habits, but there’s an ice cream stand about forty-five minutes out… it’s seriously the best soft serve you’ll ever have.” I tried to emphasize the truth of my statement, rather than the lie that preceded it. “I’ve been wantin’ a vanilla cone from there for the last three months.”

“... Then go get one? You’re an adult.” Mason lifted her book, and while I knew she was tired, the nagging voice in my head was begging me not to leave tonight at this.

“If I go by myself, I’m gonna get a real stern talkin’ to when I get back…. But if we go, it’ll look like I’m just takin’ care of you.”

Part of me thought she’d tell me to fuck off, but there was a small sparkle in her eyes.

“So, you’re asking for my help?”

That idea seemed to excite her, and I wondered if this was an uncommon experience for her. Still, I didn’t mind letting her think she was being helpful. I nodded, and a fleeting smile took over Mason’s lips. It wasn’t big, but it gave me the chance to appreciate the small gap in her teeth.

“Let me get dressed. I’ll pay, so don’t even think about bringing your wallet.”

We made it to the shoreside ice cream shop just before sunset. Mason asked for a hot fudge sundae, and I ordered the same. Then, we rested at a nearby picnic table and watched the sky fade from salmon to violet. Stars began to appear, poking through the impending darkness.

Before I was barely halfway into my ice cream, Mason had finished hers. The plastic spoon in her hand scraped the cardboard cup as she dug at the remnants of chocolate and sweet cream.

“Here,” I said, extending my bowl to her.

Instantly, she flushed to match the remnants of red streaking across the sky, shaking her head as she sucked on her spoon.

“I had mine, I’m okay,” she assured me, but I shook my head.

“I don’t think I can finish it. You’d be helpin’ me out,” I lied, knowing damn well I could eat two more bowls myself. But the way she smiled as she accepted my offer was worth the lie. Mason was a cutie, that was for sure.

I watched as she picked up one of the salt packets she’d scattered on the table. She shook the paper packaging and before tearing off the top and pouring it on the ice cream like sprinkles.

Mason was a bit… odd, as I had come to find out. I figured the eccentricity came with being an artist.

“So…what’s it like being a c-celebrity?” I choked on the last word, trying to get my mind around it.

She shrugged. “It’s just a job.”

“Wait, ain’t you like… the best at it?” That’s what the person on the radio had said. Mason was a powerhouse, allegedly.

“It’s not hard to be good at something when you’re given enough instructions.”

Mason spoke like she was talking about knitting, not actual stardom.

“I don’t feel like that’s true...” If there were a foolproof guide for fame, we’d have more celebrities and less doctors. Why work hard when people pay you just for existing?

“How could anyone give you a guide to becoming a pop star?”

A bittersweet half-smile made itself at home on her face. She started to pick at the rim of her cup, unrolling it slightly as she thought. That was something else I noticed: Mason spent a lot of time in her head. Nothing was ever a quick response. After living with two chatterboxes and a pair of endlessly talkative toddlers, it was nice to speak to someone a little more thoughtful.

“Are you sure you don’t know who I am?” she asked.

“Well, of course I do. You’re Mason Albright, and well—” I gestured to her rounded stomach. Under the sundress she wore, her bump was barely visible. I wondered if that was intentional.

“I don’t mean that.” Her voice somehow got softer, then softer still, and then she asked again: “You have no idea who I am, celebrity-wise?”

Would it have mattered if I did?

“Not at all, why?”

“Because the more you understand Mason the popstar, the less you’ll understand Mason the person.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant, but maybe that was for the best.

“I’d like to get to know Mason, the person, if that’s alright with you.”

“Why? I’m annoying.”

My eyebrows raised as I took in her response. That sounded like something Lucian would say about Mason, not something she’d say about herself.

“I uh, well. We’re living under the same roof, and even if I ain’t sweet on you like Soph, it’s best if I get to know ya.”

“You were supposed to forget about us when we stepped off the plane. That was the deal.” There was a nervous edge in her words, one that made me wonder if Lucian had said something to her.

“We made that deal before I knew you’d be living with me.” I wiped the sweat off my hands and onto my shirt. A nervous flutter filled my chest, I just couldn’t pinpoint why.

“And even if I’m not real interested in her, I’m interested in you.” I pointed at her stomach just in time for the black cotton of her dress to wriggle.

My daughter did that . The thought almost made me shiver.

“How old are you?” I asked, trying to ignore the flock of butterflies in my stomach.

Mason finished what remained of my ice cream just as fast as she did hers. She set the cup down before turning around and leaning back onto the table, lacing her hands over her stomach. The long twilight shadows accentuated her soft features: pouty lips, button nose, porcelain skin, and a perfect dusting of freckles across her cheeks. Mason was beautiful, but it didn’t seem like she knew it. Something about her humility made her more approachable, so I joined her in laying on the table. Stray splinters of wood poked into my shirt, and I hoped the same wasn’t happening to her.

“I’ll be twenty-four on October thirteenth… How old are you?”

Too old to be sleeping with a twenty-three-year-old .

“I’ll be forty on Halloween.”

Mason scrunched her nose. Not like I’d do any different in her shoes.

“You’re old enough to be my dad.”

“Not quite,” I laughed, hoping to break the tension.

“And you’re a Scorpio .“ She spat my zodiac sign like an insult.

And just like that, I found common ground.

“Hey, at least I’m not a Libra. Y’all can’t make a decision to save your life.”

“I’d rather be indecisive than hoard secrets like Scorpios do… so tell me, what are you hiding?”

All the oxygen disappeared from my lungs. Her smile told me it was a joke, but it hit too close to home.

“No secrets. I’m an open book.”

Mason eased into my lie. “I can tell. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have told a perfect stranger about your relationship drama… but I’ll keep an eye on you.”

She winked, her smile growing a little larger as she did. I had a feeling that if I caught her when she was well-rested or in a good mood, she’d be a handful. It was a good thing she wasn’t interested in me—I wasn’t sure I had enough energy for a partner like that.

“So, I know you like books, horror movies, video games, and ice cream, and that you hate Scorpios. What else do you like?”

“I don’t hate Scorpios. That’s reserved for male Aries and female Taurus,” she clarified. “But I really like the stars.”

I blinked twice before focusing on the sky. More and more tiny twinkling lights were appearing, and I pointed up at them.

“Those stars?”

She nodded. “I’ve spent most of my life traveling, either for work or because of my mom forcing me to move in the middle of the night. There wasn’t much I could depend on for stability. Cities, languages, and places change. The stars never do.”

She fell silent, gazing longingly at the sky she’d found a home in, and I tried desperately not to fall in love.