I Wish You The Best

13 - Delilah

I think I've officially gone crazy.

It's the only logical explanation for why I'm on the doorstep of Mason's childhood home clutching a Barnes and Noble bag. The only logical reasoning for why I feel like I need to be here doing this is—well there is none.

I came to the conclusion approximately two hours ago after my shift ended that I wasn't going to sit by and watch someone I used to know to go down a dark path. His whole demeanor at the hospital screamed dark and gloomy, the look in his eyes losing the light they always had.

I know it's just a shoulder injury and he'll bounce back, but I can't help but feel like he has no one. Maybe I'll hurt myself in the end, maybe this will end badly but at this moment it feels like the right thing to do.

I watched my mother go to her lowest surrounded by people who loved her. Taking away pain isn't always possible but being there for someone can make all the difference.

I grip the bag and wrap my knuckles around the large front door.

Mr. Jones always was one for style and expressing his wealth. If his mansion wasn't a reflection of it, then it was the well-manicured lawn even in the dead of winter. He always was a force to be reckoned with whenever I was in the same room as him.

I'm ripped from my thoughts at the creak of the door opening and a very shirtless Mason standing there. I watch as several different emotions pass through his face, finally settling on surprise.

"What happened?" I ask, zeroing in on the blood on his cheek and the towel in his hand.

I realize that maybe that shouldn't have been my first words to him, seemingly stunned to silence.

"Uh, shaving." He clenches his jaw and shakes his head. "Are you okay? Why are you here?" He asks, looking down at the bag in my hand and raising his brows.

"Can I come in?" My heart is racing as the words tumble from my lips.

I haven't been in this house in years. The last time was for Marie's birthday. I still remember that night and the way we stayed up well past two am talking about our futures.

I think it was the last time before everything ended.

"Uh, yea. Of course." He stands back, still confused.

I pass him in the doorway, hyperaware of the heat radiating off his naked chest, and force myself to look anywhere but the well-worked muscle stretching with his every move. His arm was still in the sling and I mentally thanked him for doing what was right.

"I just thought you could use something to keep your mind busy." I trail my eyes over the pristine furniture and the empty feeling that always follows it.

A house but not a home.

"Del, you didn't need to do that. But thank you." Mason comes around from where I stand in the middle of the entryway. He takes the bag from my tight grip and we both pause at the contact. His fingers brush mine, sending sparks up my arm.

Abort.

"Um, yea. After seeing you today I figured the recovery process can get pretty lonely." I step back, dropping my hand.

"A good book can always help." I smile hoping it covers the anxiety I feel at being so close to him. My heart is racing faster than normal and all I can smell is that rich cologne he's worn for years.

"I'm sure you're right." I follow him down the hallway and into the large kitchen. He stops at the marble island dropping the paper bag on the white top. He takes a seat at the stool and I watch as he winces.