Page 21 of Please Open Me
Mattie extended a hand. I stared at it, then at the mismatched tattoos cobbled into a chaotic sleeve on her arm.
Her narrow lips curled into a crooked smile, and I looked at her outstretched hand like touching it might spark a second pandemic.
Mason nudged me—probably to remind me I was being rude. Unfortunately for her, I didn’t care.
Her safety came before her—
I paused, brow furrowing as I gave Mattie another once-over.
“How do you know Mason?” I asked flatly.
She didn’t flinch. Her hand dropped to her thigh like she’d expected this reaction.
“We met at the gym. I’m her personal trainer,” she replied smoothly.
Mason shot her a vaguely offended look, and all that arrogance Mattie carried deflated like a popped balloon. I could’ve sworn I saw a faint blush creep into her cheeks.
“Mason is my girlfriend,” Mattie added. “We’ve been seeing each other for two months... you knew that, right?”
I blew an unsteady breath through my nose and looked at Mason.
I wanted to cause a scene. Tell her undernocircumstances could this continue.
But she looked happy. Tired, but happy.
And she’d followed all the rules. She asked us first. Never hid anything. I, on the other hand, had plenty to hide.
So, while Icouldraise hell later... Now wasn’t the time.
Not in front of Mason.
Mattie was a cultist; that much was obvious. But she did have at least one redeeming trait: she cared about Mason.
While we waited for the drinks, I noticed Mason looked pale. Not just tired—off.She wasn’t as talkative as usual. Even accounting for her usual demure nature, this behavior set off alarms.
When I asked, she brushed it off. Said she was fine, just tired.
Mattie said otherwise. Apparently, Mason had passed out at the gym.
If I wasn’t ready to argue before, I was now.
Fortunately, my job came with some flexibility. As long as I clocked my apprenticeship hours eventually, I could come and go. So no one batted an eye when I said I needed to leave.
Mason was supposed to pick up the kids, but we’d all agreed: no fighting in front of them.
So the argument had to wait.
I blew out a slow breath, white-knuckling the steering wheel as I drove.
Our conversation might not happen at all, given that Mason was asleep in the passenger seat, and the kids were out cold in the back. We'd been a few minutes late to pick up, which meant we'd interrupted nap time for all three of them.
Jasper and Juniper didn’t even stir when I buckled them in. Rosie babbled for a bit, but the minivan's stillness eventually knocked her out too.
I glanced in the rearview mirror, just to look at her. My chest ached at her utter perfection.
Chubby cheeks flushed from sleep. Hands wrapped tight around a stuffed moose. One of its antlers was soaked in drool—I made a mental note to wash it tonight.
Then I turned my gaze toward Mason. She and Rosie evensnoredthe same. The only difference?
