Wide Spaces (A Wide Awake Novella, Book 2) Page 2

  Two days later I took Emma back to the hospice. She got to see all the nurses, especially Mrs. Betty, and I got razzed to no end about being a sweetheart for getting fired because of a girl. I took her back to the rehab room. She was facing away from me, leaning against the parallel bars. I could tell in her peripheral that she was far away as she remembered and relived her time there. When she smiled at some memory, I knew it was safe to go in full speed.

  "Em." My voice had been so low it was unrecognizable. She noticed the tone in my voice, too, and goose bumps spread across her skin under my hand. She turned, just her head, to look at me.

  She smiled sweetly. "Yeah?"

  I moved in slowly, letting one arm slide across her back to settle on her opposite hip and the other moved up to hold her face as she faced me. I let my forehead rest against hers, looking into her wide eyes as she waited for whatever I was about to say. When they fluttered almost shut, I knew I couldn't wait another second. I didn't have any pretenses prepared, nor did I want to use any. I wasn't interested in foreplay in this situation, no buildup. I went all in.

  "Em, marry me," I whispered against her soft, white cheek. I felt the quick breath she sucked in all the way to my bones. I stayed right there, letting my thumb swipe across her cheekbone over and over. "In this room right here was the first time I fell in love with you, and I fell a little bit more every day. And then you showed me how you adored my mother and I adored you for it. Now…I want you to be mine. Not only do you make me a better man, but you make me happy. Marry me."

  She turned her face quickly, further into my palm, and slammed her mouth on mine, pushing up on her toes. I took that as a yes and we tangled ourselves in a fashion that wasn't proper for a rehab room—in public—but that wasn't important. When I tasted her tears in our kiss, I wasn't worried. I knew her tears were from happiness because I knew she loved me. She showed me a million times a day in a million ways and I never doubted that.

  It was the biggest compliment, those tears.

  We had stayed in that room for far too long kissing the sense out of each other. When I finally pried myself away, I pulled the ring I'd gotten her from my pocket. She smiled at it lovingly and up at me. "I love you so much."

  You, she said. Not I love it so much. You. That right there was why she was amazing.

  Back to the present and out of my memories, I looked down at my Emma. "You want to say hi to Mom while I warm up some potato soup?"

  She nodded before kissing my chin and making her way into the den. She pulled my jacket tighter around her and sat on the couch, going through the normal spiel with Mom that we did every day. I watched her from the doorway.

  I watched the way she loved my mom.

  She pulled the blanket around my mom's lap closer and gave her the remote, asking her if she wanted some hot tea, took out the photo album and tried to ready my mother for the way I'd look when I brought the soup in to her.

  I loved Emma with my very being, and I didn't deserve her, but by God, she was mine. And I wasn't giving her up for anything.

  Every day, more money is printed for Monopoly than the U.S. treasury.

  Emma

  I put the albums back on the shelf after Mason put his mom in bed for the night. I looked around the place and realized how hard Mason was trying to make it look nice. It was a cute little house. Small, but cute. It did need some work, but it was by no means unlivable. He had painted the outside and fixed the porch, ripping out all the bad wood and replacing it. He'd even wanted to paint in the living room, but knew his mom needed to have everything the way it was to not scare her every time she opened her eyes. She needed to be eased into the new truth every day. I knew he was doing it all for me, because he thought it was some great chore for me to go from living in that beast of a house my parents called home to moving in with him after the wedding.

  But it wasn't.

  I felt like a small-town girl with small-town needs in my heart. I was so ready for our life to begin together. He worked on the outside of the house and the yard on the weekends and said he'd been slacking on his duties for too long anyway. He'd gotten a new truck, the beater long gone. The shop was doing really well. I got that. I just hoped he knew that it wasn't a sacrifice for me. I loved his mom, I loved their little house that she built with love for her boys, and I loved the fact that Mason took care of her himself instead of sticking her into some facility. It kind of irked me that he didn't see how I lit up when I came to see them.

  I knew that my living there was going to be different. His mom needed things to be as close to her old life as possible, her doctors said, otherwise she could freak out and hurt herself or have a mental breakdown if she looked around and her entire surroundings were different. If she went to a facility, they'd pump her with meds to keep her sedated so she'd be in a constant state of 'calm'. No. I didn't want that.

  I let my eyes settle on the photos on the mantle. All different frames, yet all blended perfectly to fit together in the small space. One of Mason and Milo on skateboards together on the street—Mason so much taller and a little ahead of Milo. Another one of all of them at Christmas in front of a small tree, grins on all their faces as they held marshmallow topped hot chocolate. Milo was a completely different person than the boy I met.

  Then the one on the end was Mason when he was about sixteen. He had an acoustic guitar in his lap as he strummed something, sitting on the picnic table out back. I picked up the picture to look closer and could see half a record sticking out from under his pant leg along with pages of tabs. It was an LP of The Wallflowers. I felt my smile spread. He was so adorable.

  Warm hands reached around my middle and the even warmer lips followed on my neck. I sank back into him and placed the picture back gently. "Who's that nerd?" he joked.

  I slapped his hand. "Shut up. That guy's adorable."

  "Back when he thought he had it all figured out." I heard the way his tone changed, but when I turned to look up at him, he was smiling. "I made hot chocolate and the DVR is paused and ready."

  "Ooh…what is it?"

  "Well…" he smiled tenderly, "we've breezed through the Austin Powers movies, The Breakfast Club and the rest of the Brat Pack movies, Ron Burgundy, and anything involving Ben Stiller included but not limited to Dodgeball, so I figured we could do a chick-flick this time."

  "OK," I told him and looked over at the mugs on the side table. "Ooh, hot chocolate."

  He laughed. "You don't even care what the movie is?"

  I took a cautious sip. "I trust you." I licked the foam from my lip.

  He watched me with that Mason smile that I remembered from the very beginning. "What?" I asked quietly.

  "Gah, just…" He shook his head slowly, and looked at me as he said, "I love you being here."

  I smiled—unable to do anything but—set my cup aside and took his hand, pulling him toward the couch with me. "I love being here."

  "This is what it will be like," he started. He watched and waited, I guess to see if that idea thrilled me or not. "This is what it will be like after the wedding. You, me, movies, Mom, dinner, normalcy."

  "I can't wait," I breathed.

  "New Years isn't that far away," he countered.

  "Not soon enough for me." I wrapped my arms around his back and looked up at him. "I'd marry you right this second. You have to know that."

  He leaned closer. "You'd really be fine getting married without all the crazy things your mom has planned for us? I mean, she has doves, Emma. Doves."

  I giggled. "Of course. I'm not going to remember most of those people anyway." He twisted his lips. "Not self-deprecating, just saying."

  "But I want those things for you," he countered and seemed to gather steam. "You deserve all those things. You've earned it."

  I smirked. "And I win a prize?"

  "You get me." He smirked back.

  I laughed. "That's what I wanted. What a coincidence."

  He grinned, shaking his head, and leaned down into my sp
ace. His big, warm, loveable hands took my face between the palms. I closed my eyes and remembered what those hands felt like on my hips as he helped me learn to take steps and manage my weight.

  He tilted my head to the side a little, his thumb rubbing across my lips. I opened my eyes to an adoring, but sizzling look that made my heart thump harder.

  "I love how you're so trusting with me," he murmured and leaned in. His lips brushed my cheekbone as he said, "I used to hate it." He sighed, long and meaningful and sexy. "I used to think it was a bad thing to give me so much, but now, when you close your eyes and just hang on for the ride, for whatever I have planned for you?" He took my earlobe between his lips and I gripped him tighter. "That makes me absolutely burn up when you do that."

  I smiled and shivered. "My eyes are closed right now, Mason," I lied.

  "What do you want me to do?" he asked. The back of the couch hit my butt. I hadn't even realized we'd been moving. "What do you want to trust me with tonight?"

  A sigh escaped forcefully, waving the white flag that I was a melted, scorched woman at those words.

  "Anything," I whispered back.

  He lifted me to sit on the back of the couch, but left his arm hooked around my middle to keep me upright. He lifted my chin just as his hips slid between my knees.

  "Emma," he spoke against my lips. He brushed his lips against mine several times. He had to know how on fire I was and yet he took his time and inched closer with every sweep. He must have heard my huff of frustration because he chuckled huskily before settling on my mouth fully.

  I opened to him immediately, sighing with relief when he took over completely and tortured me with his powerful tongue. He cupped my hips to bring us together, so I slung my arms around his neck to keep me there.

  The clock ticking in the background was the only sound except our kissing.

  "Em," he groaned and took a long pull from my mouth. "Em, you're making that whole running away to get married thing sound really appealing right now."

  "Don't tempt me, Mason." I tugged a little on his hair in my fist.

  He groaned and moved his hot, agonizing mouth to my neck. "Gah, why do you always smell so amazing?"

  I sighed into his hair. "Mason."

  I moved my hand under his shirt to trace the tattoos I couldn't see. It made me feel as though I knew his body, every curve and line, without even having to look. But when I moved my hand to his chest and encountered a bandage, I froze.

  "What's this?" The pre-wife in me took over and the concern jumped out of me in commands to know his welfare. "What happened?" He bit his lip a little and then cursed with a guilty smile on his face. "What?"

  He sighed and leaned his chest back just a smidge, enough for me to see, but still close enough for me to be connected with him. He lifted his long-sleeve thermal shirt over his head. I gasped at what I saw. He had plenty of tattoos covering his body, but this was a new one.

  He had "Em" tattooed over his heart in a pretty, swirly writing and "189" under it. I wanted to run my fingers over it, but the clear bandage was there to let it heal because it was so new. "Mason," I sighed.

  "The Em," he explained, "that part should be obvious. 189 is the number of days you were in my care, the number of days I moved and exercised your legs and arms, the number of days I knew I'd get to see you, the number of days I watched your closed eyelids, waiting and hoping that you'd wake up."

  I didn't even realize the tears that I felt burning had spilled over until he wiped one away. He continued, knowing I was overwhelmed. "I was going to show you on Christmas."

  I sniffed and looked at it without looking away. "You didn't do it yourself, did you?" I teased.

  He chuckled softly. "I got Jax to do it."

  I finally looked up and licked my lips. "Did he call you a big softy?"

  "Among other things." He leaned forward and kissed my nose. "It was worth it."

  "Well…now my Christmas gift for you just sucks."

  He laughed and held my face gently between his palms. "Baby, I don't care what you get me. I'll be happy. You could get me a blender as long as I get to spend Christmas with you."

  I smiled a little, letting my palms settle on his sides under his shirt. "Of course I'm going to spend Christmas with you." I licked my lips again. "Thank you, Mason."

  "You're welcome."

  "No…" I pulled a move from his playbook and took his face in my hands. His cheeks were deliciously scruffy. He took my hand and kissed my palm before putting it back to his face. "I don't know if I ever said thank you for taking care of me."

  He looked down and shook his head. "It was nothing—"

  I moved his face back up. "I mean it. Thank you."

  He watched me. "You're welcome, Em."

  When his fingers went around my back and inched into the waistband of my jeans, I knew he was imagining my tattoo, just as I always did to his, the fever pitch was back on point. He leaned in so close I could almost feel him touching my lips. The pause was weighted and heavy, so reverent that I opened my eyes to see what his face would look like. He was in that awed state of disbelief that he seemed to be saturated in, usually when I was practically begging him to kiss me. Like right now.

  I moved forward to capture his mouth, but he backed away a small inch to evade me.

  "Mason," I complained.

  He smiled. It was a cross between a sexy grin and a smile of just happiness and nothing more. I couldn't help but smile at him when he was in this mood. He thought he was grateful to have my love, but I was just as awed at the way he loved and cared for me. I bit into my lip and tilted my head a little. I took a deep breath and let my eyes flutter a little with the passion that was currently coursing through my veins.

  It wasn't very hard to show him how he was affecting me.

  "Text your mom," he commanded softly. "Let's go to bed."

  My heart beat entirely for that statement. He chuckled and moved to let his nose touch mine, just a little. "Emma?" he tried to coax me from my stupor.

  "OK," I supplied and did as he asked. When I was done, I tossed the phone onto the chair a few feet away. I looked back up at him and eased my arms around his neck. "Now what, Mr. Wright?"

  He returned back to pressing against me and kissed my nose. "No classes for two weeks, right?"

  I shook my head. "Nope. I'm yours for two whole weeks."

  He smiled. "For now. Soon, you'll be mine forever."

  "I already am." Admiration bathed him, but I wanted more than that. I pulled his neck down to me and kissed him, showing him how insane he made me. He pushed my belly a little. It was too late when I realized what he was doing. I laughed as my lips let go and I fell backward onto the couch cushions. I giggled even harder as he climbed effortlessly over the top to land on me gently. He pushed my knees apart with his big hand and settled onto me easily. I lifted my knee and put my heel on the back of his leg, so comfortable and happy with him.

  I felt his warm fingers on the skin just under my shirt as he slanted his mouth over mine slowly. When I pushed both of my hands into his hair, he sighed, bathing my neck with warm, sweet breath. "So…I thought we could start moving some of your things in this week if you wanted."

  I opened my eyes to find him watching me closely. My heart thumped happily. "Well…this is my home now, isn't it?"

  His grin was immediate and gorgeous. "Right here." He leaned the inch between us and kissed me hard. "This is your home, Em," he growled happily and kissed me harder.

  His palm skated down to my leg and he pulled, tugged, and gripped my thigh through my jeans. I had a feeling that Mason had a thing for legs because he paid an awful lot of attention to mine. He made me feel so loved, so welcome, so needed in that moment.

  And he was completely right.

  I trusted him, closed my eyes, and hung on for the ride.

  Only 24% of Americans do not have a tattoo.

  Mason

  I woke with my arms around her. I groaned at the feel of it and c
ouldn't wait until this was a daily occurrence. I glided my hand down her side, past her hip to her leg, and back up again. She was so real in my bed—not a dream, not a cruel hoax my mind played on itself.

  She was real.

  She was here.

  She was mine.

  She trusted me.

  She wanted me.

  I closed my eyes and leaned over her, smelling her hair, knowing my pillow would smell that way after she was gone. That smell was imprinted in my senses. I'd know it anywhere.

  I leaned back a little to see her face, brushing her blonde hair back, unable to stop the smile at the way she breathed and slept so soundly in my bed next to me. Even though my comforter was from Target and not Macy's, she still slept so soundly.

  Christmas was tomorrow. I looked around my room. We had plans to go and bring a load of her stuff here. My room wasn't too bad. It had a bathroom attached and two big windows. I'm sure she was going to make it a lot cozier than I ever had. And we had decided that Milo's room wasn't needed anymore, so that was going to be cleaned out after the new year to make room for…whatever. I grinned at the thought that there might be another little boy in that room in a few years. This house that was always my home…

  It was a shame we couldn't decorate for Emma's first Christmas here, but we kept everything the same for Mom so she wouldn't freak every time she couldn't remember.

  But Emma's parents' house had enough decorations for an entire village, so that didn't really matter. Her brother and sister were coming the day after tomorrow, and we were all going to spend Christmas dinner together. And exchange gifts. It made me shiver with unease just thinking about that. I had no idea what to get people who already had everything, so that should be an interesting night.