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Harper had to give herself a pep talk over breakfast. Today was the day she would take that letter to Mason. The last week had been a disaster, to put it mildly. Her painting still wasn’t coming together. Her ads weren’t churning up any sales. Her mother seemed to take great joy in calling and checking up on her. Every. Single. Day.
And that stupid letter sitting on the coffee table was almost all Harper could think about. She knew it wasn’t that important, but in her falling apart world, it seemed like one thing she could control. She was at the mercy of her skills when it came to her art. She had absolutely no control over her mother. She couldn’t force patrons to buy her paintings, but she absolutely could take the mail down to Mason’s and say her personal goodbye.
“Because you’re an adult,” she told herself in the bathroom mirror as she wadded her hair up in a bun on top of her head. “That’s what adults do. They do hard things.” She stared at the dark rings under her eyes and sighed. There was no makeup in the world that would be able to cover the fact that she wasn’t sleeping well.
On the plus side, her pants were a little looser than they had been before. Apparently, going stark, raving mad was good for the waistline.
Closing her eyes, she shook her head. This was as good as it was going to get. She wasn’t trying to impress Mason. She was simply giving him his check and walking out of his life. End of story.
A half hour later, she was driving down the street to Mason’s house. Unlike last time, she could see the lights on and the garage was open, his large truck half in and half out. She frowned as she stepped out of the car, hearing loud screaming coming from inside.
It was so different than what she would have expected that Harper looked around, double checking she had pulled into the right driveway. It sounded like a pack of hyenas were loose inside and Harper almost climbed back into her car and left him to whatever chaos was going on. It didn’t sound like a good time to knock on his door.
Before getting back in the car, Harper hesitated. She couldn’t keep putting this off. She needed to get at least one weight off of her shoulders and this was the only one available to her. It had to be done.
Squaring her shoulders, she shut the door and headed up the front steps. Whatever was going on in there would have to wait for just a moment so Harper could say what she needed to say.
She knocked, loudly, then clasped her hands in front of her, squashing the envelope between her fingers.
“Hold on!” Mason bellowed, causing Harper to stumble back a step.
There was more shuffling inside and another loud scream before the door was yanked open. Mason stood in a T-shirt and jeans, looking worse than Harper had ever seen him. His eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot. His hair stood up on end and his beard looked like it hadn’t been trimmed in several days. “Harper?” He blinked and scrubbed his face. “What are you doing here?”
Harper’s eyes widened and those shaking hands went straight to her hips. “Um...” She had no idea what to say. What in the world had happened during the time he was gone?
Mason continued to stare as if he wasn’t sure she was real.
Harper threw up her hands. “I came to give you some mail that was accidentally sent to my house. I wasn’t expecting to have my head bitten off.” Though, maybe it’s for the best, she had to admit. It made it easier to think of leaving if he was being rude.
Mason deflated and he rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I didn’t...” He sighed. “It wasn’t...” He shook his head, seemingly unable to finish a full sentence.
Harper waited, but he didn’t seem to have an explanation for her. “Whatever.” She held out the envelope. “Here. See ya around.”
“Harper...”
She paused, part of her hoping he would say more, but he didn’t. She shouldn’t want him to say anything else. This was the perfect way for her to leave without any leftover attachments.
Then why is this so hard?
She was fighting her nurturing instincts. Almost every part of her wanted to rush up and envelop Mason in a hug. He looked like he needed help, even more than she did. She wanted to listen and brainstorm and help him overcome whatever had him tied in knots, but it wasn’t her place.
It’ll never be my place.
With her heart in her throat, Harper began to walk away, but turned when she heard another scream. Looking over her shoulder, Harper almost stumbled to the ground when a toddler approached Mason with her arms up and tears pouring down her cheeks. She looked to Mason, who appeared so weary he was going to fall over.
He picked up the little girl and propped her on his hip. “I’m sorry, Harper,” he said tightly. “It’s not a good time.”
“What in the world?” Harper’s feet moved toward the house before she could stop herself. She stopped in front of Mason and put a hand on the child’s back. “Whose baby is this?”
Mason closed his eyes. “This is my niece, Layla.” When he opened them again, there was such a depth of sorrow that Harper almost burst into tears on his behalf. “My...sister was killed...in an accident.”
Harper gasped, her hand covering her mouth. “No.” It really was a family emergency.
“And I’ve been appointed Layla’s guardian.”
Harper froze. “You what?”
Mason sighed. “I know,” he said, bouncing the little girl slightly. She laid her dark head down on Mason’s shoulder and her eyelids drooped. It was definitely naptime.
“Look, why don’t you go put her down and then you can tell me what happened,” Harper suggested. Her thoughts of leaving and saying her own mental goodbyes were gone. This whole situation wasn’t about her anymore. Mason didn’t just need help, he needed an intervention. What was his sister thinking by handing the baby over to an unmarried brother who had no experience with children?
Mason shook his head. “I appreciate the thought, but I can’t. She won’t sleep unless I’m holding her.”
Harper frowned. “You can’t do that, Mason. You’ll never get sleep yourself. Just put her in her crib. She’s exhausted, she’ll fall asleep.”
“A crib? Is that what children her age sleep in?” He huffed. “I thought she would be too big for that.”
Harper blinked, trying to process his words. “Mason...” she said carefully. “You do have a crib, right?”
He shook his head.
Harper looked around, noting the mess in the family room. Torn diapers, tipped over glasses, plates and cups, small broken toys, and shredded paper littered nearly every surface. It looked like a pack of monkeys had been let loose. She turned back to Mason. “Do you have any baby equipment?”
Mason shook his head. “Don’t they only use special stuff for newborns? She’s two. I thought...” He trailed off. “I’m guessing I was wrong.”
Harper nodded and patted his arm, ignoring the thrill that gave her. “Listen. You’re both exhausted. Lay down and take a nap...both of you.” She gave him a tight smile. Looked like she wouldn’t be doing any more painting today. “I’ll be back soon.”
*****
MASON SHUT THE DOOR, not fully comprehending all that had just happened. He’d been home for less than forty eight hours and his life was in complete shambles. What in the world had Aimee been thinking?
She was thinking you were too demanding, but kind.
Those had been her words and they still sort of stung. He always thought of himself as fairly laid back, but his sister seemed to think otherwise. All those years he’d thought he was taking care of Aimee, trying to help, but apparently, she’d taken it as more control.
Although, who could blame her? Spending time with their mother for the first time in years had opened Mason’s eyes to things he had never noticed before. And it wasn’t pretty. All those times Aimee was upset and sneaking out of the house made much more sense. Mason had always just thought she was the wild child, and maybe it was partly true, but the other part surely had to do with their overly controlling mother.
The revelation that anyone thought he was similar had been a hard slap in the face and had given Mason a determination to make sure he never drifted that far off the direction he wanted for his life. Well, he’d be determined about it as soon as he had the energy. Right now, he needed sleep more than he needed air, but unless Layla was going to fall asleep, he wouldn’t get any either.
He had no idea what to do with a child. He didn’t know Layla, she didn’t know him. She wouldn't sleep. Didn’t eat anything he set in front of her. He couldn't keep up with her messes or keep her out of his stuff. In other words...he was slowly drowning. And he had very little hope that Harper’s sudden appearance would change anything.
“It’s just as well,” he told himself as he took the crying child farther into the house. He winced as he stepped on a toy and had to physically stop himself from kicking it in anger. This was not supposed to be his life. Harper probably ran away and had no intention of coming back. He wouldn’t blame her.
“Do you want something to drink? Some juice?” Mason carried Layla to the kitchen and offered her a small, plastic cup.
She grabbed it eagerly, only to dump almost all the contents down the front of her shirt and subsequently on him, since he was still holding her. The action set off another round of crying.
Mason bit back a curse and refilled the cup, then tried to hold it for her. He would have to wash off the stickiness before too long, but that could wait...maybe. The next ten minutes consisted of him fighting with her for him to hold the cup so she could actually drink the juice while Layla screamed to be the one in charge.
“I think your mom had the in control thing labeled on the wrong person,” he muttered.
Finally, Mason walked to the couch and collapsed, Layla still sniffling against his shirt. He leaned his head back, wishing away the migraine that hadn’t left since he’d heard his dead sister’s words announce that he had become an instant father.
The sniffling quieted and Mason let out a slow breath. This seemed to be the only way that Layla slept. On him. In the middle of the day. He had always assumed he’d have nieces and nephews, even kids of his own, but Mason had had no idea that this was what it would be like. How did anyone survive to adulthood if it was this hard to deal with them? For that matter, why did anyone have more than one kid?
His mind wandered back to the shock on Harper’s face. Yeah...he was positive any possible future chance for the two of them was gone. He’d held off for a long time, trying to find his sister, but now he was raising a little girl. What woman would want to take that on?
Layla shifted and squirmed, causing Mason to hold his breath until she quieted down again. Moving meant waking her up and he was going to avoid that at all costs. He rubbed his eyes. They were so gritty he could barely see. Keeping them closed, he blew out a couple of breaths.
As his body quieted, his mind began to wander and it instantly went back to the reading of the will and everyone’s reactions. His parents had been just as shocked as Mason and Crew. Apparently, they hadn’t known about their granddaughter either, and getting Layla out of Virginia and back to Oregon had taken a feat of Herculean proportions. Without Crew’s interference, Mason was positive he would still be at his mom’s home, fighting off his mother’s demands to keep Layla there.
He might not like it, but Aimee had left Layla to him for a reason. And the more time Mason had spent with his mother, the more he realized just how difficult she was to live with. He didn’t know Layla yet, but after hearing some of what his sister went through, Mason found himself determined to save her from that fate. He owed Aimee that much. He hadn’t been there when she needed him most. She hadn’t felt like she could turn to him when she was a lone teenager under their mother’s unfairly strict rules and regulations. She had felt so alone that she had disappeared halfway across the country and never contacted a single one of them for fear their mother would find out.
His hand flexed on Layla’s back. No...he couldn’t save Aimee, but he could save her daughter. Or he could at least try. And if that cost him sleep, a clean house and...his love life...then that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
His head flopped to the side. If Layla was sleeping, he might as well catch a couple of winks himself. It was his only shot. And maybe it would help ease the ache in his chest of losing something he’d never even had.
Harper would simply become the one who “got away”.