Reckless (The Mason Family Series Book 3) by Adriana Locke (no david read aloud .TXT) 📕

against the bar and pour myself another drink.

I don’t know if he’s right.

I don’t know if he’s wrong.

But I know he probably made sense.

If I can remember what he said tomorrow, I’ll ponder it.

If not, I’ll be miserable forever.

Twenty-Four

Jaxi

Rosie throws her arm across my chest.

It’s the sixth time she’s done it tonight, and I give up trying to remove it.

I count stripes on the comforter. I made it to forty-seven the last time before a shadow crept across the room, and I lost my place.

My heart is so heavy. I now know what that saying means. It feels like it could tumble right out of my body and roll across the floor.

I wonder if it did, would it hurt any worse than it does right now?

“It’s not possible,” I whisper into the night.

Rosie rolls onto her side. She curls up against me and whispers incoherently.

“Where’s Boone?” she asked a million times tonight. “Boone!”

I didn’t have it in me to tell her he wasn’t coming home. I told her he was still at work and tried to distract her with finger paints and playing school. And a movie. And Play-Doh.

At least she was happy for a while.

I, on the other hand, am miserable.

Tears are hot against my cheek as I lay in his bed, in his house, and miss him.

He’s a good man. He’s everything I envisioned when I had the audacity to dream about meeting a guy who would look at me like I was the most interesting woman in the world.

Like he looked at me. 

It’s just so hard to believe that it could work out between us. That we could end up being a family.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

It’s better off this way anyway. Even if by some miracle we drift back together somehow, he’ll have had some time to evaluate if he’s in this for the long haul or not.

He should have that chance. He couldn’t have that with us being here.

I blow out a shaky breath.

“I’m trying so hard, Nettie,” I whisper as I pull Rosie in closer. “We went through a lot of crap with Mom and Pete. I know you hated how Mom chose Pete over us every time. It never changed. But I’ll always choose your little girl. I’ll always put her first.”

My stomach twists, and I try to ignore it. I try to force the unpleasantness out of my mind. The niggle has been there for hours now, ever since we laid down for the evening. It refuses to be still.

“That’s exactly what this is. You think I’m going to go all Shawn or whatever the fuck’s name was that made you feel unworthy. So you don’t just think—you expect that to happen with me.” 

“You’re not wrong,” I say softly.

I did expect this to go wrong. Maybe by expecting it, it encouraged the universe to make it happen.

What if I hadn’t answered the door? What if Danny hadn’t been early? What if I misinterpreted why he was coming over?

The tiniest stroke of hope touches my heart. It feels like a feather, brushing gently against the raw edges of my wounds.

It might’ve been worse. Awkward, embarrassing, put-on-the-spot. Or it could’ve been enlightening, and I could’ve seen things differently.

I really hope that would’ve been the case.

All I know is that I couldn’t take the risk. I’m not up for that kind of pain, and I don’t want to be a hindrance to a man who won’t ask me to leave. That only ends up a disaster in the long run.

I’ll be fine anyway. I’ll make things work. I’m strong and resilient, and I won’t fail Rosie.

I won’t fail me. 

Even if Boone said he loves me.

No, I can’t sit around and wait for the other shoe to drop. I have to be proactive. I have to keep moving because if you keep moving, it makes you a harder target for the world to destroy.

Twenty-Five

Boone

The heavenly scent of biscuits and gravy welcomes me to the day.

I stretch over my head, and my hands don’t hit the headboard.

What the hell? 

I open my eyes.

It’s a mistake.

The sun pours through the windows and bathes the room in light. I snap my eyes back closed and try to sit up.

That’s a mistake too.

A bolt of pain fires through my head, and I’m reminded of the whiskey.

And that I’m at Oliver’s.

Because of my fight with Jaxi.

Shit. 

Suddenly, a lot more than my head hurts.

I ponder lying in Oliver’s guest room and never getting up. I wonder how long it would take for someone to find me? Before I will myself back to sleep, the breakfast aroma wafts into the room again.

Why is Oliver being nice? 

I groan as I roll out of bed, wincing as I slip on my pants. I curse the sun as I try to get my bearings and a clear head. When I glance at my phone, I somehow manage not to throw it at the wall when I see no calls or missed texts.

What a wonderful new day. Not.

The stairs are steep as I head upstairs. We’ll need to put some safety gates or something so it’s safe for Rosie here. Or, actually, she likes Wade so damn much, so we just won’t let her play at Oliver’s.

That makes me chuckle, imagining Oliver’s put-out expression.

Then I stop. I close my eyes and let the reintroduction to heartbreak snap through my chest.

I grip the banister and see Jaxi’s face.

I wonder if she slept well. I wonder if she missed me. I wonder what she told Rosie.

“This is going to suck,” I mutter as I get to the top of the stairs.

My watch says it’s almost eleven in the morning, and I kick myself for missing work. Hopefully, Oliver told Wade I’d be late, so he’s not waiting on me to meet with the legal department over Greyshell.

I round the corner into the kitchen and stop in my tracks.

My mother is standing in the middle of Oliver’s kitchen with a no-nonsense look on her face.

That’s never good.

“Good morning,”