“I know, I know,” he says, waving me off as he walks back over to the coffee maker and fills his mug. “We’ll talk. Just let me get some coffee in me, otherwise I can’t be held accountable for whatever unintelligible nonsense comes out of my mouth.”
He replaces the carafe on the hotplate and takes a big whiff of his coffee.
“All right,” he says before taking a sip, “let’s discuss the terms of my provisional residency.”
I have a feeling he’s going to be here for a while.
Chapter Six
Driving the Train
Ash
Mason’s been hiding something.
Ever since that night I called and he said his brother was passed out on his couch, Mason tenses up whenever I so much as bring up the notion of going over to his place. Maybe it’s something to do with his brother or maybe his brother’s not even there. Either way, he’s been going to increasing lengths to keep us from ending up there.
Present moment, Mason and I are taking what he pitched as “a long walk through the city.” It sounded great until we got out here and I remembered how old, ugly and run down so much of this town is.
“So,” I start when we reach a gap in the conversation, “tell me more about your family. How many siblings do you have?”
It’s best to be tactful in situations like this.
“Just Chris,” he says. “You?”
A car drives by, rattling loudly as the muffler dangles, barely held in place at the back.
“Why are you trying to keep me away from your house?” I blurt.
There goes the tactful approach.
“I told you,” he says. “My brother’s been staying there and things aren’t exactly stable with him.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Chris is one of the more complicated parts of my life,” I tell her. “I’ve found it best to keep people away from him as much as possible. He has a way of separating the kindhearted from their money.”
It’s starting to look like Mason’s not as single as he’s making himself out to be.
“I don’t like being the jealous type,” I start, but I don’t know how to finish the thought without flat out accusing him of something.
“You’re the only woman I’m interested in,” he says.
“But am I the only woman that you’re seeing?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says. “I’m really not the two-timing type.”
“I guess I’d just feel better if you weren’t so adamant about keeping me away from your home,” I tell him.
“Well,” he says, “if it’ll help, we can go there now.”
That was easier than I’d expected—maybe a little too easy.
“Why are you okay going there now when you weren’t before?” I ask.
“You know,” he says, “I’m really starting to get the feeling you don’t trust me.”
“It’s not that,” I tell him. “It’s just that I’m not sure I believe you.”