Trying

by Heather MacKinnon

  I noticed he flinched slightly when I said Bryson’s name and my frown deepened.

  “It figures he would leave you home alone,” Mason muttered as he scanned the interior of the house.

  “Hey,” I grabbed Mason’s elbow and tugged until he was facing me. “Bryson wanted to stay home with me, but I made him go to work.”

  Mason scoffed. “I wouldn’t have let you get away with that.” I opened my mouth to argue again, but he kept talking. “Where’s your kitchen?”

  I pointed wordlessly, and Mason turned to head in that direction. I shook my head and followed him. What had gotten into him? I know he’s never been a fan of Bryson, but I’m surprised he still has such animosity after I explained why he’s not here.

  I walked into the kitchen to find Mason unloading the food he’d brought. My heart thumped an extra beat when I saw he’d brought my favorite soup, the kind with the noodles in different shapes. I picked up the can and turned to him. “How’d you know?”

  He smiled ruefully. “I practically had to torture Josie to get her to tell me.”

  I set the can back down and reached out to rub Mason’s arm. “Thank you. That was really sweet.”

  Mason’s eyes softened, and he smiled before gesturing me to a seat. With my direction, he found a pot and began heating up the soup while we chatted about what had been going on in the office since I’d been gone. When the soup was steadily cooking, and Mason had crackers laid out on a plate, he finally turned and met my gaze.

  “Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

  My face heated, and I looked away.

  I’d been avoiding him.

  It was as simple as that.

  Things had been so great with Bryson, I hadn’t wanted to jeopardize that by talking to someone I knew he didn’t like. But that wasn’t fair. Mason was my friend, and I’d treated him horribly.

  I turned back and looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry, Mason. Things have just been so hectic, I’ve hardly had time to look at my phone.” Which wasn’t a lie. There were more than a few texts from Josie that had gone unanswered as well.

  Mason’s jaw tensed, and he looked away before speaking through gritted teeth. “And you’ve moved back in. When did that happen?”

  I cocked my head in confusion. “Right after the accident. Bryson took some time off to take care of me. It was better than being a burden on Josie.”

  His eyes flared as they met mine. “What about me?”

  “What about you?” I frowned.

  “I would have taken care of you.”

  My shoulders slumped. “I know you would have, Mason. And that’s really sweet of you. But, I had Bryson. Everything worked out.”

  Mason scoffed and shook his head. “So, you’re back here. For how long this time?”

  My shoulders stiffened again. I didn’t like his tone or what he was insinuating. “Hopefully for good,” I answered simply.

  Mason shook his head again. “I thought I had more time,” he mumbled. I didn’t think his words were meant for me, but I heard them anyway.

  “More time for what?”

  My belly clenched uncomfortably. I didn’t like where this was going. In fact, I didn’t like where it started so I sure as hell knew I wouldn’t like where it ended up.

  Mason sighed and walked over, kneeling in front of where I sat. “More time to convince you. To win you over.” His eyes were so blue, his face so earnest, my heart ached for him.

  “To convince me of what?” I whispered.

  But, I knew.

  I knew exactly what he was talking about, but I was desperately hoping he wouldn’t go there. That by asking him to clarify, he’d realize his words had no place in this house and he’d take them back. Swallow them up and pretend they were never spoken to begin with. But he didn’t do that.

  Of course, he didn’t.

  “That we should be together.” I opened my mouth to argue again, but he spoke over me, his words rushing out like a rapid river. “That I would be so much better for you than him. That if you just give me a chance, give us a chance, that we could be great together.”

  “Mason, you know that isn’t possible.”

  He stood abruptly and began pacing in front of me.

  “Why? Because of him? Who cares about him? He doesn’t care about you! I watched for months while the life in your eyes dimmed because of him. I would never do anything like that to you. I’d never take you for granted. If you’ll just give me a chance, I can show you how good I can be to you.”

  I stood and held out my hands, momentarily at a loss for words. Here was a man who I’d come to love deeply as a friend who was pouring his heart out to me in my kitchen where I’d just had breakfast with my husband only a few hours before. There were so many things wrong with this picture on so many different levels, I didn’t even know where to begin.

  “Mason, I don’t even know what to say,” I admitted.

  He stopped pacing and turned to face me, his eyes blazing. His hands came up to cup my elbows, and he took a step closer. “Just give me a chance. Please. Tell me I’m not too late.”

  “Mason,” I started, but didn’t know how to finish. What do you say to something like this? How do you break a heart? “I’m married. I’m going to work on my marriage. It’s what I want.”

  He spun around and threw his hands in the air. “You don’t know what you want!”

  “I do too! And who are you to tell me I don’t?” I yelled back at him.

  He turned and stalked toward me until there was barely an inch between us. “I know, because I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. When you were in my arms the night of the office party. I saw the passion in your eyes and I know it was for me. You want me. I know you do.”

  I was shocked speechless.

  What do you say to that?

  He wasn’t entirely wrong.

  I had danced with him, and I had felt something. I know I had. But what he didn’t understand was that it paled in comparison to what I felt a few moments after dancing with him when Bryson was dragging me out of the party. Even angry and barely touching me, he ignited a fire in my veins no man has been able to match.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Mason. I’m sorry I gave you that impression. It was wrong of me to lead you on that way and it was wrong of me to dance with you when I’m married. I’ve made a lot of mistakes I’m not proud of, and I’m sorry for them.”

  He took a step closer until there was barely any room to breathe. “You’re calling what we have a mistake?” he asked slowly, his voice deep and rumbling through the air between us.

  I had a feeling my answer wasn’t the one he was looking for, but I needed to be honest with him. I had to be one hundred percent truthful from here on out if I had any hope of salvaging both my marriage and my friendship with Mason.

  I nodded slowly. “Yes, Mason. It was a mistake. I’m married. I’m sorry if you felt I led you on.”

  What more could I say? I’d made a mistake, but it was over. However, the fire burning in Mason’s eyes let me know this conversation wasn’t even close to being finished.

  One second, he was scorching me with his blue gaze, and the next, his mouth had come crashing down on mine.

  I gasped in surprise as Mason pulled me closer, moving his mouth against mine. My hands came up to push at his shoulders, and he inched backward, his mouth pulling away from mine. Instead of walking away though, his lips traveled down my jaw to my neck, his harsh breathing loud in my ear.

  “Mason, you have to stop.” My voice was as firm as I could make it, but it still cracked on the last word.

  He pulled back and looked at me, his chest heaving.

  “Don’t you feel it?” he asked. I stared at him silently, wondering how we’d gotten to this point. “Admit you want me, Kenny. Just admit it.”

  And in another life, maybe I would have been with a man like Mason. He was smart and funny, attractive and sweet. He was all the things I’d ever looked for in
a man, but he wasn’t Bryson.

  I’d never been more sure of my connection with my husband than in those few seconds Mason’s lips were on mine. I couldn’t lie, I’d felt something. But it was like the flame of a match in the face of a raging inferno. Mason barely sparked anything at all in me while Bryson set me on fire.

  “I don’t, Mason. It’s over. Please, just stop.”

  “What the hell is going on in here?”

  My heart stopped as my blood turned to ice in my veins. Because I recognized that voice. I knew every nuance of the sound and could pick apart each emotion hiding in those words.

  My husband had come home for his lunch hour and found me with another man.

  Chapter 34

  I pulled out of Mason’s arms and spun to face Bryson.

  My husband was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his suit jacket open and his chest heaving. My gaze traveled up to his face and I almost wish I hadn’t looked.

  There were so many conflicting emotions there, I was having trouble keeping up. Anger, betrayal, possessiveness, rage, hurt. They all flashed by and were gone in the next instant.

  I took a step forward, but Mason grabbed my arm and yanked me back to face him. His face was equal parts pained and angry. I watched his eyes flicker from me to Bryson before landing on me for good.

  “Please, Kenny.”

  I didn’t know exactly what he was asking me in that second, but I knew I couldn’t give it to him. When faced with the choice of placating my husband, or my friend, I’d choose Bryson every time.

  I pulled from Mason’s grasp and turned to face a very angry Bryson. It seemed he’d decided on an emotion to run with and I needed to intervene before he acted on it.

  I held up my hands and took a few steps in Bryson’s direction. “Brys. It’s not what it looks like.” I winced at the cliché words coming out of my mouth, but I’d never understood them better than I did in that moment.

  “I don’t know what it looks like, I just heard you asking him,” he sneered, jabbing a finger in Mason’s direction, “to stop. And I want to know what.”

  I took another step closer until I could reach out and place a hand on Bryson’s trembling chest. “I’m sorry. Please. I’ll get him to leave if you’ll just give me a minute and then I’ll explain everything.”

  Bryson looked down at me incredulously. “You want me to leave you alone with him?!”

  I nodded slowly. “He’s not gonna’ do anything. I promise. Just go in your office and I’ll come in and talk to you in a few minutes. Can you do that?”

  Bryson’s eyes darted back and forth between mine, seemingly searching for something. Finally, he let out a shaky breath. “I’ll do this for you, Mack.”

  I opened my mouth to thank him, but he pulled me into his chest and slammed his mouth against mine in a passionately punishing kiss. I kissed him back just as fiercely, making sure he understood where my loyalties lay.

  Finally, he pulled away and turned his fierce gaze in Mason’s direction. He jabbed another finger at him and spoke in a low authoritative voice that even I’d be afraid to ignore. “I don’t want you in my house ever again. You hear me?”

  I didn’t catch Mason’s reaction, but Bryson nodded once and spun on his heel. He stomped down the hall, and I jumped slightly when the sound of his slamming office door echoed through the silent house.

  I dropped my head, chin hitting chest, as I tried to examine the pile of shit I’d just landed in. Bryson and I had worked so hard these past few days rebuilding the trust that had been broken between us, and in one moment, it could all be over. I didn’t know what I’d find when I went in and spoke with him, and I was almost too afraid to find out.

  But, before I went in there and tried to salvage my marriage, I needed to deal with Mason.

  I spun around and found him already halfway toward me. I shot him a glare, and he stopped in his tracks, his hands up in the air in a placating gesture.

  “Mason. This has to end.”

  He took a tiny step closer. “It doesn’t, Kenny. It can’t. I’m in love with you.”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head at his confession. “You don’t love me, Mason.”

  He took another step closer, and I glared at him again. “I do. I know I do. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I think about every night before I fall asleep. All day I wonder how you’re doing and what I could do to make you smile the next time I see you.”

  I shook my head again. “That’s infatuation- not love. You don’t love me,” I repeated, hoping I’d get through to him.

  He ran a frustrated hand through his dark hair before meeting my eyes again, his blue gaze pleading with me. My stomach clenched uncomfortably, and I felt sick. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to hurt him, and I didn’t want to disillusion him.

  But this couldn’t go on. That meant the texts needed to stop. The coffees in the morning had to stop. Walking me to my car in the evenings had to stop.

  I realized in that moment that if I was going to get Mason to believe me, I was going to have to cut him completely out of my life. He wouldn’t understand anything less.

  “Kenny, please, give me a shot. I can make you happy. I know I can.”

  I needed to be clear. That’s the only excuse I had for the next words that came out of my mouth.

  “The answer is no.”

  “No?” he asked quietly.

  I shook my head. “I’m married. Things haven’t always been perfect, but we’re working on them. I took a vow to stay by his side until the day I died, and I take that very seriously. I’m not willing to give that up. I love him.”

  “You love him?” I nodded slowly and watched as the fight drained out of his eyes and his shoulders slumped “So, it’s over?”

  I sighed. “It never began, Mason.” And then, because I felt like such a shit person, I added, “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

  I didn’t know what else to do next, but I knew I needed to get to Bryson. I needed to explain what had happened and hopefully fix whatever just broke. I can’t imagine what he must be feeling after what he walked in on.

  I took a step back and spoke up once more. “I think you should go.”

  Mason nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  We walked silently to the front of the house in what felt like a death march. I opened the door and for a moment, Mason stood there, his eyes on the floor. Finally, he sighed deeply and lifted his head until his eyes met mine.

  They were sad but resigned.

  “I would have been good to you,” he said quietly.

  My heart clenched in my chest and I felt the tears pricking at the backs of my eyes. I just nodded and when I felt like I could speak again, I told him, “I know you would.”

  Mason’s lips tilted into a small, sad smile before he turned and walked out the front door.

  I closed it behind him and leaned back against the sturdy wood. It felt like I had mental whiplash from everything that had happened in the past thirty minutes. Because that’s all it had taken. Half an hour and my entire world was upside down.

  I looked down the hall toward Bryson’s office door and knew the worst wasn’t behind me yet. I still needed to talk to my husband and not only get him to believe that I hadn’t cheated on him, but also get him to forgive me for banishing him from his own kitchen.

  There was no time like the present and I had a feeling that the longer I left him in there to stew, the worse it would be when we finally spoke.

  I made my way down the hall and knocked quietly on his door. When there was no response, I opened the door and slipped inside.

  Bryson was pacing the floor in front of his desk. When he saw me, he paused and let out a deep breath, his gaze traveling up and down my body like he was searching for anything wrong with me.

  “Brys?” I called tentatively.

  “Is he gone?” His voice was deep and quiet.

  “Yes.”


  “Then, come here.” I paused for a second and he added, “Please.”

  I swallowed past my dry throat and made my way slowly toward my husband. His gaze was hard, but the look on his face was resigned.

  “I want to be angry, Mack.”

  I swallowed again.

  “I want to yell and scream and knock that asshole the fuck out.”

  I nodded that I understood but kept quiet.

  “But, I’m not going to do that.”

  “You aren’t?”

  He shook his head. “I promised you that I would fix us. That means I need to listen and trust you. I heard a little bit of what happened when I came in the door, but I want you to tell me and whatever you say, I’ll believe.”

  I blinked a few times. “Just like that?”

  “Do you plan to lie to me?”

  I shook my head quickly. “Never.”

  He nodded. “Then I’ll believe whatever you tell me.”

  Could it be that simple?

  I didn’t question it for long. Instead, I dove it to telling him everything that had happened since Mason showed up on the doorstep until Bryson had interrupted. When I got to the part about him kissing me, his jaw tensed, and his eyes flashed dangerously.

  “Did he hurt you?” he asked quietly.

  “No,” I whispered.

  “But he kissed you.”

  It wasn’t a question, and with the murderous look in his eyes, I didn’t want to answer, but I nodded anyway.

  Bryson’s shoulders rose and fell with a harsh breath and I watched as he tried to compose himself. “What would have happened if I hadn’t come home?” he asked, mostly to himself I think, but I answered anyway.

  “He wouldn’t have hurt me. He wouldn’t have,” I gulped, “forced me.”

  Right? I couldn’t believe that he would have gone any further than he had. Then again, I never thought that he would kiss me like that, or confess to love me, or ask me to leave my husband for him. All of those things were like small slashes of a very sharp blade to my heart. I didn’t know what would have happened without Bryson’s interference, and I honestly didn’t want to.

  “Come here,” Bryson commanded.