Abigail stood at the kitchen counter and attempted to pour iced tea into plastic cups with trembling hands. One look. It only took one look for Mason to work out that Ollie was his.
She had no idea he’d show up there. There hadn’t been any time to warn him or talk to him before the bus had pulled up. Abigail had been too stunned to see him to speak.
But still, he knew. She wanted to scream and cry and howl her pain to the entire world. Here was the one man she’d ever loved in the entire world, and he’d looked at her with such a seething hatred the second he’d realized Oliver was his. Not that she blamed him. Still, her heart froze in her chest.
Mason was as furious with her as he was delighted with his son. And Oliver. Well, he’d just looked at her and then at Mason and jumped into his father’s strong arms. Of course, Ollie had known who he was the second she’d said his name. She’d had no secrets from her boy. She never would. Secrets hurt.
“So, can I call you dad?” Oliver’s dark eyes darted from her to Mason as he asked his question. She couldn’t help the tear that escaped her eye, his sweet little voice was so full of hope she swore she’d throttle Mason if he refused.
“Uh, yeah, I guess you can. Can I call you son?”
“I like Ollie best.”
“Okay then, I’ll call you Ollie. I’m, uh, sorry, I didn’t know about you sooner I would’ve,” Mason cleared his throat and Abigail’s heart broke a little for him.
He would have been a terrific father. He’d never forgive her for this, nor would he understand what she had to do next. She had no choice. She wouldn’t subject her son to the kind of scorn and rejection she’d faced at the hands of her own father. Mason would really hate her now.
Not that he didn’t have a right to. She didn’t deserve his understanding or forgiveness, but dear God, what else could she do? She’d have to find a way to get some money and leave as soon as she could with Ollie. They could have today, but no more.
She couldn’t afford to let her son grow attached to Mason when he could never share in their secret. It would be terrible to fill him with hope of acceptance from a father who could never and would never know them. She wasn’t sure she could live with lying to Mason again. But she had to, for Ollie’s sake.
“What’s your full name, Ollie?” Mason’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
“It’s Oliver Mason Lane. Like yours!” Mason’s startled eyes met hers. Uh oh. Now, the questions would begin.
“Hey Ollie, why don’t you go take a bath and then get ready for dinner, okay?”
“Okay, Mom!” He smiled at her, then at Mason. He’d almost left the room, but he ran back and threw his arms around his father in a tight hug.
Mason’s eyes closed as he held his son and breathed him in. It was a tender moment, but it hurt Abigail to watch them. She could never give her son what he wanted more than anything. A father. His father.
Mason was still as handsome as ever. He wore his chestnut brown hair slightly overgrown that suggested he only got it cut when he remembered. That wasn’t far from the truth. She remembered always teasing him about it.
His nose was straight and his lips full and soft. He had high cheekbones and a firm jaw with only the slightest hint of stubble. He’d told her once he shaved twice a day otherwise, he’d have a full beard in just a week. She smiled at the memory.
He was well over six feet tall with wide shoulders and long legs. He looked more like a professional athlete then the businessman he now was. She’d caught glimpses of him online over the years. He’d really made something of himself, not that she’d expected any less.
He’d always been determined and hardworking, not to mention incredibly smart. She tried his whiskey in a bar in Oregon once when she’d been on assignment. It was lovely. She’d been raised on the stuff and had a discerning palate. Mason used the best quality ingredients and flavored his whiskey with hints of natural essences.
She’d missed him, she realized. He’d been so much a part of the girl she was. She could not help the tightening of her chest. How could she survive leaving him again? I still love him.
Mason ran a hand through his hair before he stood up and turned to face her. His dark eyes held none of the warmth and love that they used to when he’d looked at her. He uncrossed his arms and stalked over to where she stood, his lips set in a tight line, his brow furrowed.
He was angry. Still, Abigail didn’t back down. She’d faced real monsters in the dark of night. Vampires that had lost all semblance of humanity and were more nightmare than real. She’d hunted them, fought them, and killed. Men held no fear for her. Especially, not this man. He would never hurt her physically, though he still had control of her heart. Maybe that was worse.
“How could you not tell me I have a son?” His quiet demand made her tremble the way the implied violence in his features couldn’t.
“You wouldn’t understand, Mason,” she turned her back to him. This was proving more difficult then she’d thought.
The second his large hand covered her almost bare shoulder as he turned her towards him, she felt that familiar sizzle of attraction between them. Nothing had changed. And yet, entire worlds had been created and destroyed in the time she’d been away.
He felt it too. She was sure of it. She sensed it in the way his breathing changed. He dropped his eyelids, but he didn’t release his hold on her.
“I had a right to know.”
“Yes.”
“You gave him my name?”
“Yes.”
“He knows about me already?”
“Yes.”
“Oh God, Abby, why? Why did you leave?”
“I had no choice. Dad made me go.”
“No, that’s not true. Your father said you left on your own. He wasn’t lying, Abby. I’d have known it.”
“I guess in the end I did. I got on the plane, but not because I wanted to. There are things you don’t know.”
“Then tell me, goddammit!”
“Mason, I had no choice!”
“There’s always a choice and you left me to go off galivanting around the world like the heiress you thought you were. And what now? Back for more money? Well, I’m not going to give you one penny of that twenty percent I gave to your father when I bought him out. I will fight it, Abby. You might as well accept that right now.”
“What? What are you talking about? What twenty percent?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. I got an email a few weeks ago from a lawyer telling me my father died. That was it. I assumed he left me the house and whatever money he had as his only living relative.”
“Your father died in debt. I paid the mortgage on this house and the back taxes. This property is mine.” He looked around the cleaned kitchen and Abby felt sick to her stomach.
“Yours? You mean, he, he lost everything?”
“He lost you. After that he didn’t give a shit about anything else. Abby? Abby!”
She sunk to the floor. What was going on? Her business savvy father had sold the company and then lost his home? How could he have let that happen? And what did she have now? They’d have to leave now. They had no choice. But where? Back to Alaska?
“Abby, take a sip of this.” Mason held a glass of water to her lips and she took a sip. The fire that burned her throat told her it wasn’t water in her cup, but liquor. Whiskey. Good whiskey too. Must be his.
“What is this?”
“It’s mine. I made it. It’s Cinnamon Bite, one of my more popular flavors. I sent your dad a couple of bottles last year. Take another sip.”
She did. It was smooth and spicy with a kick that teased her tongue and throat. Not unlike that first taste of blood when she fed. Damn, she’d need to find a live source soon. She drank again, finishing the glass.
“This is good. Thanks. I tried Bite once, but it was not flavored. I liked it. You did good, Mason.”
He sat down on the floor next to her. His broad back against the cupboards. He held the bottle to his lips and took a long slow pull. She watched his throat work as he swallowed.
He was so good to look at. A small stream of whiskey dribbled out of the corner of his mouth and she wanted to lick it off so damn bad. She had to stop herself from leaning over and doing just that.
“Mason, look, I don’t know anything about any of this. I just assumed I’d have the house and some cash. I never thought he had a piece of your business and I certainly don’t want it-”
“What do you mean you don’t want it? Isn’t that why you’re here?” he looked at her through skeptical eyes and she hated the way it felt. He really thought the worst of her.
“No, it’s not. I just, I wanted to come home. I couldn’t while he was alive. He didn’t want me here. He didn’t want to know anything about Ollie. It was hard being away for so long, you don’t know what I’ve been through, but I never wanted to hurt you. We’ll be out of the house by tomorrow night, okay?”