Boarlander Beast Boar (Boarlander Bears #4)(22)

“How?”

“She had something to say that was worth listening to, Mason. Georgia and Harrison? They’re here because Tessa warned me Georgia was in danger from those poachers. You remember that. You were there. Damon’s mountains went to battle, and it was Tessa who told me to Change Georgia to save her. To save me. I didn’t hate her in the end because, it turns out, she was there for a reason.”

Mason sighed and dangled his beer bottle over the side of the porch. “So you think Esmerelda is here for a reason. Because she has something she needs to say?”

“Does she have words?”

“Only two, but they’re getting stronger. Tonight at dinner, Beck heard her.”

“Beck? The publicist?” Jason’s lips twisted in a slow smile. “You bangin’ her?”

Mason looked away to hide a smile. “None of your damned business.”

“So, no. Zero pecker strokes for the sad pig.”

“We aren’t there yet, jackass. I want to be. She’s all I think about…”

“But Esmerelda?”

“But lots of things.”

“Like what?”

Mason gritted his teeth. He hated exposing himself to anyone, but he’d come here for Jason’s help, and he owed it to Beck to try. “Like she has a kid. And an ex who hurt her badly. Who still hurts her. And I’m…” Mason took a long swig of his beer, stalling. “I’m not good for anyone right now, and I don’t want to add my baggage to her already complicated life.”

“Who wants an uncomplicated life? I’m serious, man. Who wants a boring existence?” Jason arched his dark eyebrows. “The complications? The little blips and hiccups and heartaches? Those are what add texture to a life and make it good. They make people strong, make them able to appreciate happiness. And someday, when you get your head out of your ass, you’ll be grateful for where you’ve been. Hell, you’ll even be grateful for the time you had with Esmerelda because, in her own way, she’s prepared you for this.”

“For what?”

“For seeing the life you want and leaving the grit behind so you can go and get it. What does Esmerelda say, Mason?”

He stared at Jason, utterly shocked by how insightful the Gray Back jokester was being. “She says, ‘they’re coming.’”

“They’re coming,” Jason repeated softly. “Beck and her kid.”

Mason swallowed over and over, afraid his voice would crack when he spoke. “You think Esmerelda’s telling me it’s okay to move on?” God, what was this feeling coursing through his veins? Hope? He almost didn’t recognize it. Hope had eluded him for a long damn time.

Jason gripped his shoulder and shook him slowly. “Yeah, man. She’s letting you go. It’s time to let her go, too.”





Chapter Eleven


Beck sniffed and wiped the last of the dampness from her cheeks as she shoved her legs into her jeans. The air had cooled up here in the mountains of Wyoming, chilling the floor boards of 1010’s front porch, making the soles of her feet tingle.

“I saw you,” Clinton said.

Beck gasped and pulled her pants up as fast as she could. Mortification blasted heat through her body in a wave before it landed in her cheeks. “Great, you pervert. You saw me.”

Clinton frowned. In the dim porch lighting, he stood leaned against the rail near the bottom stair like he’d been there all night. It was eerie how quiet he’d been. She wasn’t snuck up on easily, but her shame at what she’d done to Mason had her head spinning like a top, distracting her from the dangers of the Boarlander woods.

“I didn’t mean I saw you naked. I meant I saw your animal. I knew you were a flight shifter. Just didn’t know what kind. A snowy owl.” His natural hate-filled scowl had morphed into an expression that looked almost impressed. Clinton cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, which had lightened to silver. “You’re sad. Why?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” With Clinton or with anyone else. She would need to leave this place. Run. Flee back to her old life where she felt steady. Here, she dared to want things that would never come to fruition for a person like her.

Clinton looked off into the dark woods. “You know, I had a girl once who was sad. She thought bottling up hurt meant she was strong, but it didn’t.” Clinton dragged his inhuman eyes back to her. “Silence will hurt Mason, and it’ll hurt you, too.”

Warily, she approached the side railing and looked down on the normally furious bear shifter. “Why do you care? I thought you didn’t like me.”

Clinton snorted. “Don’t matter who I like, Beck. It matters who Mason likes. He’s a jackass.” He twitched his head behind him toward the trailer park. “They all are.” Shrugging one shoulder up to his ear, he lowered his voice and murmured, “But they’re my jackasses. Mason’s known that quiet sadness before. It brought a strong man to his knees, and he hasn’t learned to stand yet. I can see him trying with you, though. Don’t break him before he gets there.” And without another word, Clinton ripped the one remaining rosebush out of her landscaping, threw it in the middle of the yard, roots up in the air, then sauntered to his trailer next door and disappeared inside.