Page 63 of Raised On It

Her.

Leaving her today was excruciating. After three nights and two full days living and breathing nothing but Mason, there were moments when I thought there was no way I would ever be able to leave.

Or walk again for that matter.

I was always pretty dang sure there was a heaven, but wondered what it might be like. Since Mason O’Brien walked into Eastlyn, I’ve been getting glimpses of it every time I see her face, but last night, she fortified my belief. I’ve been floating in heaven for the past couple of days, and all I want right now is to get back to it.

Don’t get me wrong, today has been a blast. Drinking and dancing with my friends is always a good time. I just wish Mason was here with me.

When I told Scheana I would take her to the wedding, I thought for sure it was a promise I wouldn’t have to keep because she and Adam would be back together, and they are. But he got a job out of town, and it includes working weekends, so here I am, at Brittany and Jason’s wedding with Scheana instead of Mason.

Scheana’s a fun girl, and we’ve had a great time, but the toasts have been made, cake has been cut, dancing has ensued, and I’m itching to get the hell out of here and back to my city mouse.

My city mouse who has hopefully had enough hours away from me to fill that journal of hers. I can picture her with her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, wearing herRomance Writers Do It Betteroversized T-shirt and nothing else.

If our time locked away in Katie’s house impacted her the way it did me, she can still feel me inside her and still smell me—not just on her sheets but everywhere. There hasn’t been a moment of champagne and celebration when she hasn’t been on my mind. Most prominent, though, is the space she’s taking up in my heart.

I need to get out of here.

Back to Mason.

“Rach, you won’t be gone forever, and we’ve still got tomorrow night. No goodbyes just yet,” Amelia says, finishing the last sip of her bubbly.

“She’s right,” I confirm even though it will be a bummer to see her go. It always is when one of us leaves Eastlyn. “Tomorrow night, you can get sloppy drunk and tell us how much you love us, but right now, one of you needs to catch the bouquet.”

Yes! A sure sign the festivities are coming to a close--he throwing of the bouquet.

The DJ asks all the unmarried ladies to gather, and they swarm like bees to honey.

“1…2…3!”

The flowers float through the air, and just as they should, they land in Rachel’s hands. She blushes, the girls high-five her, and the guys pat Reece on the back.

“Now it’s time for all those single men. Line up, gentlemen.”

The first thing that crosses my mind is how good it feels not to be single. However, not many actually know this new bit of information. Since I’m not married, I find myself being dragged out to the middle of the dance floor where the girls just pushed and shoved each other for the bouquet.

We’re given our own countdown, and when the silk elastic flies in our direction, my hand reaches up on instinct, and I snag it out of the air.

Like Reece, I’m met with pats to the back and hoots and hollers. Before Mason, I wouldn’t have wanted the thing anywhere near me. Today, I shove the garter in my pocket, hoping it’s a sign of things to come.

I hopeit wasn’t obvious that I was trying to drop Scheana off in a hurry. I know I’m an asshole, but I couldn’t get her out of mytruck fast enough. I tried my best not to be rude, but damn, did we have to recap the entire day on her front porch?

Fortunately, she lives only a few blocks from Katie’s place, and I’m running up a new set of front steps in a matter of minutes. She’s never seen me in a suit, so I’m looking forward to her reaction when she opens the door.

Knocking on the door and waiting for her to answer are a feat when all I want to do is barge through the damn thing so I can take her in my arms and tell her how much I missed her. Still not answering, I knock again, and when there isn’t a reply, I’m about to do just that but relief washes over me when the door begins to open.

Thank God!

“Look what I got,” I say, spinning the garter on my index finger. “Think it’s a sign?”

My relief is quickly replaced by anxiety.

Her face.

The glow from this morning is a distant memory.

“What is it? What’s happened, Mase?”

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