Page 62 of Shamed
A few minutes later, I’m flicking the lock open, then closing the door behind me as I carefully tread down the snowy steps.
Mase turns to look up at me, then at what I’m carrying, a surprised and questioning look on his face.
“I made you some hot tea,” I tell him, holding out a mug. “And I brought you a small blanket.”
Slightly hesitant, he takes the mug from me, along with the blanket, no doubt curious about me initiating this interaction. “Thank you.”
I settle onto a higher step after brushing it clear of snow, then bring my mug close to my mouth, blowing at the steam. “Why do you sit here after walking me home?”
Bringing a hand up, he ruffles his wavy black hair, shaking off some of the snow. “Oh, just keeping the riffraff away.”
“But why bother? It’s late. Or early, depending on how you look at it. You could be at home in a warm bed right now.”
Mase’s shoulders lift and drop, like it’s no big deal. But itisa big deal.
“Do you remember that night you ran into me on the sidewalk?”
I stare at the back of his head, curious as to what he’ll say. I had wondered if he remembered that incident: that Halloween when I raced away from him like my life depended on it.
“Halloween,” I respond quietly, thinking about how scared I had been when I saw him and thought he was going to hurt me.
“You looked like you were two seconds away from having a panic attack, and were white as a ghost . . . and not from a costume.” He turns to look up at me. “That’s why I went after you. Probably wasn’t the best decision, but I was worried.”
My stomach turns. Is this his way of telling me he’s worried now?
I swallow, not really knowing what to say, apart from that he shouldn’t worry about me. “Why would you care, though? You didn’t even know me.”
“Do you have to know someone to care?”
I lick my lips, knowing the answer all too well. “No.”
After taking a sip of his tea, Mase leans back to look up at the sky again. “Why do you go by Jayne now?”
My eyes drop to the snow gathering on my shoes, and I absently flick it away. “It’s my middle name. I just prefer it.” Not a lie, just half the answer.
A soft hum rumbles from his chest. “I like it.”
Something warm settles beneath my breastbone, and I look at him again, wondering how someone can be a stranger, yet not feel like one at the same time.
“Do you like the snow, Jayne?”
At the weird change in subject, I take my eyes off him and watch the snow falling around us, light and fluffy. “I love the first snowfall,” I answer. “I love how pretty it looks, almost ethereal. And all the noise and chaos just seem to go silent. Kind of like right now.”
I can’t help but wonder if Jacob gets to experience the snow or a storm on a summer afternoon.
Has he gotten to see the stars and moon on a clear night?
I suck in a slow, cold breath, then release. “But I get over it pretty quickly, especially when I have to commute to and from work in it.”
Mase turns sideways to look up at me with those dark eyes, his big body folded on the old wooden steps. Snow is starting to gather on the shoulders of his black canvas jacket, but theplaid blanket I gave him draped across his legs is keeping his lower half dry.
“You said you’ve been working there for two years; where were you before that?”
An ache forms in my chest at the thought of my dad, though I’m not sure the ache is ever truly gone, just buried away amongst the muck.
I bring my warm mug up and press it to my heart in a poor attempt to ease the pain. “I was working for my dad at one of his offices in the city and volunteering at an animal shelter.”
“You were working for your dad?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “Why not now?”
