Fallen Crest Alternative Version Page 42

She gasped as I turned and left.

When I pulled the door closed behind me, I heard James murmur, “I think you look beautiful, Analise.”

Then it shut and I no longer cared. She wasn’t my concern. No one was.

When I got in my car, I drew in a deep breath. Where the hell did I go? I found myself driving past the two houses to Garrett’s house. The lights were lit and as I drew closer, I could smell the chili from outside. When the door opened, it was another matter. Raised voices blasted my ears and I no longer remembered the chili.

“I can’t believe you!”

Garrett’s voice chided, “Oh come on, Helen. What were you thinking? I never proposed to you and you laid it all out.”

My feet quickened their pace and I stopped in the kitchen’s doorframe. It was open and led to the small dining room and the right side of the house. They saw me. Helen’s mouth had opened, a finger was in the air, and she looked ready to deliver a scathing retort. It fell flat at my appearance.

“Sam?”

Her chest deflated when Garrett saw me. The raised finger fell to her side and she turned her back to me.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Sam.” Garrett stepped from around the kitchen island. “Come on. You look like crap. Have you been crying?” Then a different idea came to him and he growled. “Did Mason do this?”

That brought a laugh from me. “No.”

“Why do you blame him?” Helen crossed her arms over her chest.

I chuckled. “I’m going to go downstairs. Carry on.”

“Sam, wait.”

But I shook my head and gave him a small wave as I went to my room first. With all the drama and emotions that coursed through me, the need to run was full force inside of me. So I chucked my phone to the side, changed into my running gear, and grabbed my iPod. Since it was close to midnight, I went to Garrett’s gym in the basement and climbed onto the treadmill.

I kept the television off. I turned the fan on. I had only one light turned on from the back wall. Then I started my music and started running.

I never checked the time. I just ran. I had missed it and for some reason the urge to go hadn’t been with me. Because of that, I felt it come back twofold. It was trying to contain me, suffocate me, and I went longer because of it.

When I did stop, it was close to three in the morning, and I was panting. My limbs were rubbery. The numb feeling had taken over everything. It seemed like sheets of sweat dropped from me when I left that room and headed to my own. But when I opened my door and turned the light on, I stopped short.

Mason lifted his head from my bed and gave me a small grin. “Hey.”

“Hey.” The door slipped from my fingers. I flinched as it shut louder than I would’ve wanted. “What are you doing here?”

He grinned and pushed up to sit on the edge of my bed. “What do you think, Sam? I’ve been worried.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Then he chuckled and ran a hand over his face. “What time is it? I fell asleep in here.”

“You were waiting for me?”

“Yeah.” His eyes held mine and I felt the old intensity. He was searching inside of me. I flinched again.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He said it so softly, chills went down my back. My own truth slipped out. “For being stupid and selfish.”

“How were you being selfish?”

“I didn’t go to you guys at the game. I couldn’t.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “I didn’t want any help from Kate or from your friends. I hate that they think I’m weak.”

“They don’t think you’re weak.”

“Yes,” I laughed. “Yes, they do.”

“Sam.” He started to stand.

I waved him back down and went to my closet. “When did you get here?”

“Ten minutes after my dad called. He said you were upset.”

I sighed as I grabbed the silk robe he’d given me for Christmas. With it in my hands, I felt even more foolish. I should’ve called him. I should’ve told him what was going on with me, but I didn’t. I refused. I ended up snapping at my mother because of it. If I had called, maybe none of it would’ve happened. I wouldn’t have gone to David’s. I wouldn’t have seen the box. I wouldn’t have gotten so angry at her.

I swallowed a knot in my throat. “I got mad at my dad’s, at David’s, whatever. I don’t know what I’m supposed to call him, but I got mad. I saw a box that had—it’s stupid. There were things important to me in there and I remember that my mom kicked it away. She didn’t take it with her and that hit home, I guess. I feel stupid now.”

“Come here.”

I shook my head. “I smell. I should shower.”

“So let’s shower.” He gave me a smirk as he stood and went to the bathroom.

“Mason?”

I followed, but he had already stripped off his shirt before he tested the water temperature. His jeans were on, but the zipper was undone. His black boxers were visible and I swallowed for another reason. My lips were dry. My stomach fluttered and my knees went weak, weaker than from the running.

I almost groaned out loud. It’d been two days. I hadn’t seen him in two days.

My voice came out hoarse. “Did you see your mom downstairs?”

He glanced at me and rolled his eyes. “Come on.” Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me underneath the shower spray.

I gasped from the sudden movement, but the water pounded down in a warm torrent. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling, of being with him, of being cleansed, and of the feeling from his fingers as he stripped my clothes away. He bent down and chucked his jeans next. When we were both naked, I grinned at him. His eyes were already dark as he pulled me against him. Then he asked with his lips on mine, “What were you saying about our parents?”

Our eyes held. My hands lifted to his arms and I clung to him. My lips moved against his, “Nothing. They don’t matter.”

“No,” he whispered back. His hand pulled me closer. “They don’t.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

When I woke at eight in the morning, I rolled out from underneath Mason’s hand. It was settled on my breast and I fought back a snort. It was his favorite sleeping position. I dressed in new running gear and grabbed my headphones again before I went to the door.

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