Reckless (The Mason Family Series Book 3) by Adriana Locke (online e reader .txt) 📗

Ted is coming home tomorrow. 

I cover my face with my hands.

“I know this is a mess for you,” she says, her voice clogged with unshed tears again. “I—”

“Do not apologize to me. Don’t. I’ll be fine. I’ll … I’ll go get a hotel room for a few days. It’s not a big deal.”

“I know you were saving money by staying there. And I know you needed to save that cash too.” Her voice breaks with the weight of everything that has just been placed on her. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry I’m not there with you.” I start pacing again. “Want me to fly to San Diego? It’ll be closer to Hawaii anyway.”

She coughs. “No. I’m getting a flight out of here first thing in the morning. But thank you.”

I bite my lip and make a path against the tile floor. I wish there was something more I could do to help her.

“Is there anything else you want me to get out of here?” I ask her. “Clothes? Jewelry? Books?”

“My brain is so scattered right now that I don’t know. The trunk, for sure. It’s full of my grandmother’s things. Maybe my Bible if you can find it. Um … there are a couple of suitcases under the bed. Just shove some of my clothes in there too if you can.”

Her voice wavers, the tone softening as the shock starts to wear off.

I have so many questions.

How did he tell her? How long was this going on? What’s she going to do when she doesn’t even have a job? Is he going to cut her off so she has no money?

But I don’t ask them. They don’t matter.

“Of course, I can,” I tell her. “Just text me if you think of anything else.”

“Ted will be out of here on the first flight too, I think. I got a different room for tonight. The concierge was all too happy to move me out after the people next door complained about us fighting to the front desk.”

“I’m sorry that happened.”

“Me too.” She cries softly. “He should land in the early afternoon. So …”

“I’ll be gone. And I’ll have your things gone.”

“Thank you.”

I look around, feeling helpless.

“I’m going to go,” she says.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you alone right now. I’m happy to talk you through all of this or just sit here and listen to you cry. I’ll cry too. We can be criers together.”

She laughs through her sniffles. “I need some time alone. I need to make some calls too.”

“I get it. Text me if you need anything. Call me. Anytime.”

“I will. Love you.”

“You more.”

She hangs up without another word.

I set the phone on the counter again and take in a long breath.

While Ted would not be my choice of husband—for me or Libby—I am shocked that he wants a divorce. Libby seemed so happy. And, in his own Ted way, he seemed happy too. But how could he not be? She’s wonderful and beautiful, and her kindness runs as deep as the ocean.

They were planning for the future. They had a five-year plan for crying out loud. I once heard Ted say that every couple should attend therapy regularly so they could avoid problems and keep their marriage strong.

I shake my head.

If Libby and Ted can’t make it work—if Ted couldn’t be faithful to someone as lovely and lovable as my cousin, there’s no hope for any of us—

Least of all me.

Nine

Boone

Ding!

The microwave stops whirling. I open the door and take out the bowl of spaghetti, cursing under my breath as the heat of it burns my fingers.

The kitchen is filled with the midmorning weekend sun. It always seems brighter on Saturdays.

Steam pours off the leftovers, and I blow across the bowl to quicken the reduction in temperature.

It’s not that I’m starving. I ate more when I got home from Wade’s last night than I’ve eaten in a long time. I must’ve forgotten to eat lunch yesterday. That or I was just up later than normal trying to wrap my brain around Jaxi Thorpe.

My gaze drifts to the window toward Libby’s, but there’s no sign of life. There hasn’t been since a light came on briefly in the middle of the night.

I swirl some spaghetti on my fork, willing to risk eating with my mouth open if it’s still too hot. My phone rings before I can take the bite.

“Hello?” I say, letting the fork rest inside the bowl.

“Hey, Boone. What are you up to today?” My cousin Larissa seems way too chirpy for ten in the morning.

“Having breakfast. What about you?”

“What are you having?”

“Spaghetti.”

“Odd choice, but okay.”

I walk around the kitchen aimlessly. “It’s all I have, to be honest. But it’s also really fucking good.”

“Where’s it from?”

Jaxi’s face sweeps across my mind. I grin.

“My neighbor’s cousin is staying over there, and she made me dinner last night. But Wade called in the middle of it and made it sound like he was going to lose his business or something if I didn’t help him. So, Jaxi left a bag on my porch with dinner.”

“That was nice of her.”

“It was.” I stroke my chin. “But I really think this is from Hillary’s House. They have that weird oregano-y sauce that I love, and this is it. It has to be. That or she’s a crack cook, and if that’s the case, I need to put a ring on it.”

Larissa laughs. “You? Put a ring on it? Okay, buddy.”

“Anyway,” I say, laughing too, “what about you? What are you up to this morning?”

She blows out a sigh, and I know I’m in trouble.

Besides Coy, Larissa is my best friend. We grew up playing in the creek behind my parents’ house, and she stayed with us more than she didn’t. We were a three-person wrecking ball our entire lives—well, until Coy took off to Nashville a few years ago. Then it was Larissa and me for the most part.

I know her well. By the delay in response,