Reckless (Mason Family #3) - Adriana Locke Page 0,33
it was crashing down on me.
That time with my dad? It kind of did.
But the one thing I’ve never done—not even got close to doing by accident—is offering a woman to stay with me. A night? Sure. A weekend? Occasionally. But an open-ended commitment that I verbalize to a third party, for fuck’s sake?
With. A. Child?
Never.
She lives with me.
My words ricochet through my brain. I sit perfectly still and await a rush of alarm to sweep through my body. I search Jaxi’s wide and slightly panicked eyes and hold my breath.
Shera smiles at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”
“I’m Boone Mason.”
“Great,” Shera says, satisfied. “Let me grab some papers that we’ll need you to sign, and I’ll get the child.” She heads for the door. “She is such a delight. I’d take her home myself if I could.”
Jaxi forces a swallow. “Thank you.”
The door squeals and then clicks shut again. The sound echoes around the room.
Jaxi collapses back into her chair. Her shoulders slump forward as she bites the inside of her lip. I can’t imagine what she must be thinking.
She sucks in a deep breath that shakes when she releases it.
“Are you okay?” I ask her. “That was a lot of information to throw on you.”
“I don’t know where to start in trying to wrap my brain around this.”
Her voice is weary but also resigned. She’s stuck—not just with the kid now but with me, at least for a while. And despite being fully cognizant that this whole thing might just blow up into a freaking nightmare, the alarm bells haven’t sounded in my head. Yet.
I’m fairly certain they’re blasting in hers, though. How could they not be?
“I’m sorry about your sister,” I say. “I can’t imagine what you must be thinking.”
“Thanks. I … I wish that I would’ve known her better. She was just so much older than me.” She gazes into the distance. “We bonded over our hatred of our stepfather when I was a little girl. But then she left, and I was still so young that … I guess I didn’t really matter to her, you know?”
Her jaw sets.
“I bet that’s not true at all,” I contend. “She probably just had to focus on her life and lost track of things.”
It’s a shitty response, a pathetic explanation for a woman who walked away from her family. But I wasn’t there, and I don’t know what happened so that’s the best excuse I can make for Jeanette.
“Yeah …” Her voice trails off. “You’re right. I mean, look at me. I lost track of my life and look where I ended up. I now have a child I’m responsible for and am squatting in a man’s house that I only met a couple of days ago. Fun times.”
“If you don’t want to stay with me, you don’t have to,” I tell her. “I know I blurted that out, but I didn’t know what else to say.”
None of this is coming out right. None of this is helping.
I twist in my seat to face her. “What I mean is that I kind of just said that because I know you don’t really have a permanent place, and I saw the panic and didn’t want them telling you that they couldn’t place the kid with you because of it. I was just trying to help, and I’m sorry if I just complicated things.”
She nods as she turns toward me too. “I appreciate you doing that.” She smiles faintly. “It seems like you just keep bailing me out of problem after problem, huh?”
I smirk. “I have always seen myself as a hero.”
This gets a real smile from her. That, in turn, gets me a reprieve from the tightness in my chest.
“I hate seeing myself as some damsel in distress,” she says.
“We all go through times in our lives when we need help. My grandma Annabelle used to tell us that if we didn’t help when we were needed, no one would be there to help us when we were down. That the universe took notes.”
She sighs. “Then you have some favors coming, buddy.”
The room grows quiet. The only sounds are the ones from the hallway outside. Each noise—clamoring of keys or buzzing of alarms—seems to be miniature reminders that we’re in a police station.
“Hey,” I say. “Did you lock Libby’s door?”
“I have no idea. I don’t think so.” She laughs sadly. “She’s probably going to get robbed, and that will be my fault.”