Letting Hearts Heal (13 page)

“Come on, Wyatt. Time to go inside.”

Even before he finished the sentence, he knew something wasn’t right. When had he last seen Wyatt? Or heard him? He ran down the middle aisle, but there was no sign of him. Had he even been at the greenhouse? Dean couldn’t remember. Panic swept over him like a wave as he ran outside.

“Wyatt!”

Chapter 10

M
ASON
HUMMED
as he made himself a sandwich. He’d gotten back from town later than expected and was starving. It was only a cold sandwich, but he was enjoying putting the flavors and textures together. Or maybe hunger was making him crazy. Either was possible.

He’d just sunk his teeth into his little masterpiece when he heard a crash and quick, heavy footsteps. Moments later a frazzled-looking Dean appeared in the door.

“Have you seen Wyatt?”

“No. I just got back from town.” Mason put his sandwich aside and wiped his hands on a dishtowel. “Where’d you last see him?”

“In the brewery building, but I already looked there. And in the stables, the polytunnels, and the greenhouses. Fuck. Why the hell didn’t I keep a better eye on him? I forgot my own son!”

“We’ll find him.” Mason hoped he sounded calmer than he felt. “How long ago was it that you guys were in the brewery building?”

Dean winced. “A few hours. God, I’m a horrible father.”

Taking a deep breath, Mason forced himself to think clearly, since Dean obviously had lost that ability. “Okay, quit that shit right now. You can beat yourself up later if you really think it’s necessary. I’ll check the house. You get a hold of Joe and everyone else so we can organize the search. Go!”

Dean ran out, and Mason began a thorough search of each room in the house, yelling out Wyatt’s name. The boy was smart, that was in their favor. But he was also only four years old. Mason tried not to think of the horror stories about kidnapped kids and freak accidents, but he was only halfway successful.

“Wyatt?”

When he felt absolutely certain that Wyatt was not in the house, Mason grabbed his jacket and ran outside. Dean had everyone gathered outside the bunkhouse, even Joe’s elusive wife Anna, who still hadn’t managed more than a shy smile for him.

“No sign of him in the house,” Mason reported. “His jacket and boots aren’t there either, so I don’t think he came inside.”

At that moment, Dean punched the side of the house, and swore when
that
obviously hurt.

“Need me to get you an icepack?” Mason asked.

“I’m fine,” Dean muttered, though it was clearly a lie.

Joe was more level-headed, and he gave everyone instructions about where to go. “Call me or Dean if you find him. Otherwise we meet back here in an hour. It’ll start getting dark soon, so we should probably call the sheriff if we haven’t found the boy by then.”

Mason’s heart constricted as he watched Dean leave. It was so tempting to run after him and offer whatever comfort he could, but Mason also knew that finding Wyatt was more important than comforting Dean.

“Wyatt?” Mason kept calling as he ran down the path to the structures furthest from the house. He didn’t stray from the path because the smooth snow clearly showed where someone had been walking and where not. Some of the buildings were locked, but the ones with open doors he searched from top to bottom—with no sign of Wyatt.

When the hour was up, it was, indeed, starting to get dark. Mason made his way back with a grim taste in his mouth. Where the hell was Wyatt? Everyone was already gathered at the bunkhouse. The light in Dean’s eyes died when he saw that Mason came back alone, and it just about killed him. He pulled Dean into a quick hug. “We’ll find him,” he whispered. He told himself that he truly believed it, but Dean didn’t react.

“I’ve called the sheriff,” Joe told them. “He’ll be here shortly. Until then, we keep looking.”

Mason and the others left with new instructions on where to search. This time they had flashlights. Mason was starting to get cold, and he hoped that wherever Wyatt was, it was somewhere warm. And safe. And where Mason would find him in the next two minutes.

After another hour it was completely dark, and Mason was making his way back to the bunkhouse. He tried to imagine where a four-year-old boy would go on his own. Maybe he was cold. Maybe he was sad that his dad had forgotten him. Maybe he was angry about it. Wyatt liked peas, but there weren’t any of those, except in the freezer. He liked to color and race his cars, but he did that in the house, and there’d been no sign of him there. He liked horses, but Dean had already checked the stables. Mason decided to check them anyway.

“Wyatt? Are you in here?”

Mason checked each stall, letting the beam of light from his flashlight fly over the hay and the horses in the semidark building. Even with the light on, there were shadows everywhere. He was almost on his way out again when he spotted something. In the middle of the hay in the last empty stall, Sweet Pea stood as if he were a real horse. Mason walked into the stall and picked up the stuffed toy.

“Wyatt?”

A little head peeked over the edge of a bale of hay. “Yes?”

“Oh, thank God.” Mason ran over, grabbed Wyatt, and hugged him close. He’d never known relief like that before. Then he pulled away and took a good look at him. He didn’t appear hurt or cold. “Are you okay, kiddo?”

Wyatt nodded. He looked as if he’d been sleeping, which would explain why he hadn’t heard them all yelling for him outside.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Mason picked up Wyatt, and with a tight hold on both boy and horse, he walked outside. “We were so worried when we couldn’t find you.”

“Daddy was working, and then he left. I couldn’t find him, so I came here so Sweet Pea could say hello to the other horses.”

Mason felt like crying—crying for a little boy and his daddy who just hadn’t gotten it right yet. The similarities between Wyatt and his dad were striking—man and boy on their own against the world, yet a million miles apart.

“Your Daddy’s going to be so happy to see you.”

“He’s not mad?” Wyatt sounded so vulnerable that Mason wished he never had to let go of him.

“Not at all.” Mason hoped Dean wouldn’t make a liar out of him by expressing his relief in the wrong way.

It only took a couple of moments to come within shouting distance of the bunkhouse. “Dean! I’ve got Wyatt, and he’s okay!”

D
EAN
’
S
VISION
was blurry as he ran to meet Mason. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whispered, grabbed Wyatt from Mason’s arms, and hugged the boy as hard as he dared, raining kisses on his cheeks and the top of his head. He nearly fell to pieces when small arms encircled his neck. He didn’t deserve it. “I’m so sorry.”

Looking up he saw Mason, and without thinking, drew him into the hug as well. “Thank you for finding him.”

It was as if the world faded for a moment. Even the relief and the shame evaporated. Dean learned the meaning of contentment right there—forming a unit with his boys. But then reality checked back in when Joe and the hands came over.

“Is the boy okay?”

“Where did you find him, Mason?”

“Is he cold?”

Dean reluctantly let go of Mason but kept Wyatt in his arms and let Mason answer the questions.

“Wyatt’s fine,” Mason replied. “He was in the stables taking a nap after introducing Sweet Pea to the other horses. The introduction really was long overdue.”

Feeling giddy, Dean buried his face in Wyatt’s hat and hoped he wasn’t as close to going insane as he felt. He was grateful that Mason had looked in the stables again—and clearly done a better job of it than Dean had himself—and that he wasn’t making a big deal out of it in front of Wyatt.

Dean cleared his throat. “Thank you, everyone. It means the world to me that you dropped everything tonight and helped out. I won’t forget it.”

Joe put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezed. “The only thing that matters is that the little guy is safe. I’ve already let the sheriff know.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

Everyone started to scatter, and Dean took Wyatt inside. “Are you okay, buddy?”

Wyatt nodded and let Dean help take his jacket and boots off. “Are you mad at me?”

“No. Shit. I mean…. No, I’m not mad at you. Not at all. I’m mad at myself for not paying attention.” Looking at the serious little face, there were a million things Dean wanted to say. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat. I bet you’re hungry.”

Intending to grill some sandwiches for a quick dinner, Dean was more than surprised to see Mason already cooking. He sent Dean and Wyatt a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sit down, boys. I’ll have the food on the table in a minute.”

“You didn’t have to,” Dean said softly.

“I know.” Mason kept his back turned, his full attention on the stove. “But I wanted to.”

“Thank you.” Dean helped Wyatt into his chair and went to get milk from the fridge. “Want a beer?” he asked Mason, who nodded.

True to his word, Mason placed three steaming plates on the table shortly after Dean sat down. “Beef, mushroom, and snap pea stir fry. Hot, quick, and easy.”

“It looks delicious.” Dean watched with a smile as Wyatt poked a piece of snap pea and looked up at Mason, confused.

“Try it,” Mason said, looking a lot less tense now that the stove was off.

Dean held his breath and wondered if it would be like the time Lydia from the diner had served pea soup. Mason was smarter, however. He’d cut up the snap peas so some of the small peas had fallen out. Wyatt started with those, humming his approval, and then finished his plate like he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Dean realized that he hadn’t and once again felt like the world’s worst dad.

Later he tucked Wyatt into bed and watched him sleep for a while. He’d never felt terror like he had when Wyatt was missing, and he was afraid that if he took his eyes off him, he’d disappear again.

“I promise I’ll do better,” Dean whispered, pulling the covers tighter around his son. “Can’t do much worse anyway, huh?”

After a while, he went downstairs and collapsed on the couch, feet hanging over the armrest. He closed his eyes and let the dark silence wrap itself around him like a blanket. It was like he’d aged ten years in just a few hours, and he was more exhausted than he could ever remember being.

“I’ve lived a thousand lives and died a thousand deaths tonight,” he said into the darkness, knowing Mason was curled up in the chair nearest the cold fireplace. “I never told my son that I love him. I never told you.”

“It was written all over your face tonight how much you love Wyatt.”

Dean sighed. Had he been unclear or had Mason misunderstood on purpose? It wasn’t Mason finding Wyatt that had made the penny drop for Dean. It was holding him afterward. He hadn’t thought about love in years, but the evening’s events had driven home that he loved Wyatt and he loved Mason.

“Do you think he was scared out there?” Dean asked after a while when the universe had made it clear that it wasn’t going to be a night for declarations.

“Nah. He’s a bright kid. He knows where the house is, so he could have come in anytime. In his mind, it made perfect sense for a stuffed horse to meet real horses. You should have seen it.” Mason chuckled. “If I hadn’t been so frantic when I found him, I might have laughed. He put Sweet Pea in one of the empty stalls, standing right there in the middle as if he was a real horse.”

Dean allowed himself a smile. “And he was sleeping?”

“In the hay, yes.”

“I didn’t see him. I checked the stable, and I didn’t see him.”

“Dean, that was hours before I found him. He might have been somewhere else by then. Don’t beat yourself up for nothing. Wyatt’s fine.”

Easier said than done. Dean didn’t say it out loud, as he knew Mason meant well, but he thought it. The words resonated around his brain until he felt the beginning of a headache coming on.

Mason rose from his chair. Dean swallowed a sigh, not quite ready to be alone yet. He was surprised when the seat next to his head dipped as Mason sat down. It was dark, so Dean couldn’t see him, but he could feel him. The air sizzled, and he wanted to push his scalp into Mason’s thigh just to touch him.

“I was terrified out there.” Mason’s admission was only just above a whisper, and because Dean was distracted by the fingers weaving into his hair, he had to repeat the sentence in his head four times before he registered what Mason had said.

Wishing he’d turned the light on, Dean looked up at the dark outline that was Mason. “Me too.”

Mason’s fingers moved slowly through Dean’s hair, almost as if he weren’t aware he was doing it. Dean did his best to lie still, afraid that if he moved, Mason would stop.

Eventually Dean lost track of time and gave himself over to Mason’s touch. He was almost in a dream state when Mason pulled his hand away and leaned down to softly cover Dean’s lips with his own.

“Good night, Dean.”

M
ASON
WOKE
up much earlier than he wanted to because something was prodding at his eyelids. When he swiped a hand across his face, he heard giggling. Opening his eyes revealed an already dressed Wyatt with crazy bed hair. In the light from the hallway, the big smile on Wyatt’s face was impossible to miss.