When I'm Gone (Rosemary Beach #11)(12)

Mase closed my door, and I watched in appreciation of all his male beauty as he sauntered around the front of the vehicle, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. The stubble was back on his face today, and I decided I liked him best when he hadn’t shaved.

“You worked today,” he said, glancing down at my hand. “Your hand feeling better?”

It was. Much better. I hadn’t had that much trouble with it today. I’d worn rubber gloves and had been able to clean without it slowing me down. “Yes,” I replied. “Were you going somewhere?”

He shook his head and pulled back out onto the road. “No. Just finished lunch at the club. Jimmy mentioned that you worked today and that you were walking home,” he explained.

So Mase had run off to come find me? If he’d been going to the Carters’, he would have turned a few blocks back. My stomach did a fluttery thing.

Before I could think of anything to say to that, a phone started ringing. Mase leaned back and pulled a flat smartphone from his pocket.

“Hey, everything good?” he said when he answered, looking concerned. “Sure. I’ll be back by then. I think I can fit it in. They say how long they need to board?” I tried not to look at his face as he concentrated on the road and the conversation he was having. “Yeah, give it to me,” he said, then reached over and opened the glove compartment. “See if there’s a pen in there, Reese.”

I quickly did as he asked and found a black pen and handed it to him. He pushed it back at me and picked up a piece of paper sticking up between the seats. “Here, write this down,” he told me.

Oh, no. Not this.

He would see what I wrote. And it was hard for me to write things down when they were dictated to me. I had to concentrate. My letters got turned around, and I often started to panic when I felt pressure to write without enough time. I had to be alone, and I needed to focus.

“Three-three-three,” he started, and I quickly wrote down the numbers. I could do that. It wasn’t hard. “Berkley Road,” he added, and my heart began pounding so loudly I couldn’t hear anything else. “Fort Worth,” he said, before I had even managed to write the B or what I thought was the B. My hands were shaking so badly I wasn’t sure I could write anything else.

I sucked in a deep breath and tried hard to get myself under control. Berkley. I had the B. Then it was E. I started to write the E, and it looked like the 3 I had written before. I paused and glanced back at the 3s. Why did they look alike?

His gaze was on me. A cold sweat broke out all over my body, and I forced myself to keep going. It was an R next. I blinked rapidly, as the words I had written twisted and my head began to throb.

“Text it to me,” I heard him say. I knew he wasn’t talking to me.

I closed my eyes tightly, wanting nothing more than to jump out of the moving vehicle. This was not happening to me. I had lived here almost a year without anyone knowing I was stupid. That stigma had been left behind. I had used the spell-check on Jimmy’s computer to fill out my application for the cleaning service.

My grip on the pen had turned my knuckles white, and I looked down at it through the frustrated tears gathering in my eyes. Now Mase Manning knew just how stupid I was. Of all people to have figured this out, why did it have to be him? The universe hated me.

Mase’s large hand reached over and took the pen from my grasp. I let him have it. Then he tossed it into the glove compartment and closed it. I couldn’t look at him. He wasn’t saying anything, and I refused to meet his gaze. I would see the pity or, worse, the disgust.

The car stopped, and I sucked in a breath, then reached for the door handle. I would just bolt. The chances of me seeing this man again were slim to none. He didn’t say anything as I climbed out of the car. That hurt, even though I was thankful. He wasn’t opening my door or telling me good-bye. He was just letting me run away like the idiot I was.

I didn’t look back at him as I dug for my apartment key in my backpack.

My hand was shaking so badly I couldn’t get the key into the lock. The tears were blurring my vision, and I let out a sob of frustration before trying once again to open my front door.

Suddenly, his hand was covering mine, and I watched as he plucked the key from my weak grasp. I stood in horror and confusion as he unlocked my door and pushed it open. Why was he out of the car?

I didn’t move. I was frozen in my spot. Then his hand touched my back, and he gently nudged me inside. Unable to think for myself, I went. He kept his hand on my lower back until we were both inside, and the door closed softly behind us. He’d followed me inside. He was going to ask me questions. Questions he already knew the answers to. I had proven in the car how my brain didn’t work right. He had seen it first-hand. I just needed him to go away now.

“What happened?” his voice was gentle and kind. There was no ugliness to his question. I almost felt safe. Almost.

Mase

My thoughts were all over the place as I tried like hell to figure out what had happened in the car. I’d never seen anyone do that before. It had been hard to drive as I watched Reese struggle with writing down a simple address. I hadn’t realized she was having a problem until she made a soft panicked noise in her throat like she couldn’t breathe.

My gaze had gone to her face, and I’d seen she’d gone pale. Glancing down at the paper, I’d also seen three Es instead of three 3s. Her backward B had been enough for me to know something was off. She had to have an explanation. One that made sense.