When we got to Mason’s house, the same woman who had opened the door the first day I came was in the kitchen, setting down a cup of coffee. Mason thanked her, and she disappeared right after.
He picked up the cup and handed it to me, the heat seeping through my fingers. “Drink it. Then go take a hot shower. It’ll help.”
He glanced around the kitchen, said nothing else, then walked away.
I let out a quiet breath as he left, watching the set of his shoulders until he turned the corner. Something in my chest pulled tight. He hadn’t really looked at me since we got in, and the distance felt intentional.
I cradled the cup and took a careful sip. Heat spread through my hands, then my throat. My mind went back to the drive, the way his hands gripped the wheel tight, his jaw set the whole time
