Page 131 of This Beautiful Lie
Mason’s grin widened, slow and knowing.
“Oh, lots of things,” he said, leaning his weight against the hood of the jeep like he had all the time in the world. “But the one he’s said twice—maybe three times—is that you’re glowing.” He tipped his chin, eyes crinkling. “And now that I’m seeing you in person… I get it.”
Heat rushed up my throat, my pulse skittering, as my gaze pulled toward the lodge almost involuntarily—that’s when I noticed the open door and heard the faint sounds of voices drifting out from inside.
When I looked back at Mason, there was a flicker of mischief tugging at the corners of his eyes. Not teasing—more like he was keeping a secret he couldn’t quite contain.
“What?” I asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing,” he said too quickly. “Just—if he’s taking this long, maybe you should go in there and find out why.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Mason McHenry, what are you up to?”
He raised both hands, feigning innocence. “Me? Absolutely nothing. It’s Dean you have to worry about. Go see for yourself.”
Suspicion fluttered in my chest—but so did curiosity. With one hand resting over my belly, I started toward the lodge doors.Gravel shifted under my feet as Mason fell into step beside me, whistling low like he knew something I didn’t.
Inside, the temperature dropped. Cool air wrapping around me as the scent of cedar and brewed coffee filled my lungs. The soft hum of conversation echoed through the wide lobby—until I stepped onto the tile.
Then the noise dimmed.
Not entirely—but enough that I felt it. Like the room shifted its attention toward me without realizing it.
My eyes scanned automatically, drawn toward the wall of tall windows overlooking the lake.
That’s where I saw him.
Dean stood near the far side of the room, sunlight pouring over him in long, golden stripes. One hand tucked casually into his back pocket—his head bent forward in that soft, attentive way he had when he was really listening.
And beside him stood someone small.
Not someone.
A boy.
Maybe twelve. Sandy blond hair that fell across his forehead. Thin shoulders. Hands twisting nervously in front of him as he shifted from foot to foot.
At first, I didn’t think anything of it. Just assumed he was another McHenry cousin I hadn’t met yet. This family seemed to multiply by the minute.
But then?—
The boy turned.
And I froze.
Because staring back at me were my own blue eyes.
The exact shade. The same shape.
My breath stuttered. The floor swayed. My hand flew to my mouth as a sharp sound—half gasp, half something broken—scraped up my throat.
My pulse rushed loud in my ears.
The world narrowed to just him… that twelve-year-old boy my heart remembered instantly.
And the impossible truth reflected in his eyes.
Dean looked over, his expression soft and loving. Then he nodded once—gentle, steady—and there was no more doubt in my mind. It was Griffin.
