Page 12 of Christmas With The Broken Mountain Man
I tilt my head back and gasp. Without city lights to drown them out, the stars are spectacular.
"I've never seen so many stars," I whisper, suddenly aware of my insignificance in the vastness of the universe.
"Perspective," Mason says. "Whatever you're facing, the universe is bigger. You're a tiny speck in an infinite cosmos."
"That's... not as comforting as you might think."
He laughs, the sound warm in the cold night. "My point is, you're free to reinvent yourself. The stars don't care about your past. Neither does Whisper Vale."
"Do you?" The question escapes before I can stop it.
Mason studies me for a long moment. "I care about your safety. And your future."
Not the answer I was hoping for, but an honest one. I shiver, the cold finally penetrating my thin pajamas.
"You're freezing," Mason says. "Let's go inside."
Back in the warmth of the cabin, he stokes the dying fire while I curl up on the couch. He joins me, keeping a careful distance.
"You never finished telling me about your family," I prompt, not ready to return to my empty bed.
Mason settles deeper into the couch. "Not much to tell. Parents died when I was in college. Freak accident. It's just me and my sister now. She's happily married and determined to see me paired off too."
"Hence Sealed, Signed, Delivered," I conclude.
"Hence the ambush, yes." He runs a hand through his hair. "She means well."
"Family usually does." I think of my own parents, still baffled by my sudden career change and cross-country move. I told them it was about wanting adventure, not running for my life. One more lie in a growing collection.
"What about your family?" Mason asks.
"Typical suburban setup. Dad's an accountant, Mom teaches yoga. I have an older brother who's a software engineer in Seattle." I pick at a loose thread on my pajama pants. "They don't know about Greg. At least, not the bad parts."
"Why not tell them?"
I laugh without humor. "My mom's favorite phrase is 'everything happens for a reason.' What possible reason could there be for a man breaking my wrist because I talked to a male colleague at a school function?"
Mason's jaw tightens. "He broke your wrist?"
Shit. I didn't mean to reveal that particular detail. "It was a hairline fracture. I told everyone I fell."
"And they believed you?"
"People believe what they want to believe." I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant though my heart races. "Greg was charming, respected. No one wanted to think the beloved principal was abusing his girlfriend."
Mason's expression darkens. "Did you report him?"
"I tried." The memory still burns. "Filed a police report, had medical documentation. Two days later, the report mysteriously disappeared. Greg's brother is a detective in San Diego PD."
"Jesus," Mason mutters.
"That's when I knew I had to leave. Disappear completely." I wrap my arms around my knees. "I thought I covered my tracks, but then his PI friend showed up at my Reno motel room three days ago. Hence the black eye."
Mason's stillness is unnerving. When he finally speaks, his voice is dangerously calm. "This man assaulted you."
"He said he just wanted to talk." I touch my bruise gingerly. "This happened when I tried to run."
"Did he..." Mason hesitates. "Did he do anything else?"
