Letting Hearts Heal (14 page)

“Can we give Daddy his present now?”

Mason peered at his watch and groaned when he saw that it was only a little after five in the morning. He’d completely forgotten about Dean’s birthday. “Too early.” He grinned to take the sting out of his words. It was great to see that Wyatt wasn’t traumatized after the previous day’s events—and that he wasn’t upset with Dean either.

“Please?”

Mason sat up in bed and grabbed Wyatt. Maybe tickling the kid into surrender would work. Lots of giggling and an epic tickle fight later, Mason got out of bed. So he was a master tickler, but he was also a big sucker for Wyatt’s pout—something the boy had already discovered.

“Can we make breakfast for Daddy?” Another little pouty face and there was no way Mason could refuse. At this rate Wyatt would soon be able to make him do anything. If a pout could make Mason cook, a pout could also make him run into a burning building. He shuddered.

“Sure, kiddo. What should we make?”

“Um… pancakes?”

“Pancakes it is, but only if you help me stir the batter.”

“Yay.”

Wyatt hurried into the kitchen, leaving Mason to smile at the gradual changes he’d seen in the boy since he arrived at the ranch. The quiet, serious little boy who wanted to rescue Mason’s baseball cap was becoming better and better at breaking out of his shell and acting like a regular little boy.

Making pancakes was a fun, but slightly messy, affair. Although Mason had secured a kitchen towel around Wyatt’s waist, he had to send him to change his clothes when the batter was thoroughly stirred.

By the time he came back—this time with his clean shirt on backward—Mason had set the table and was in full swing, baking the pancakes. He realized he’d almost forgotten to be anxious about the stove. A smile bloomed on his face.

“Daddy’s in the shower.”

“Okay. I forgot the presents in my room. They’re in the dresser—the bottom drawer. Can you get them?”

“Yep!” Wyatt ran back upstairs, full of energy Mason wished he could bottle and sell.

Wyatt put the three presents on the table. He had also made a colorful drawing and asked Mason to help him wrap it. “Daddy’s coming down now.” The boy was bouncing, more excited than Mason had ever seen him. He wondered what Wyatt would be like on Christmas or his own birthday.

“Morning, guys.”

Mason’s gaze shifted from the bouncing boy to the still-damp-from-the-shower man and swallowed hard. The bold kiss from the previous night filled Mason’s mind. He’d spent an hour in bed trying to figure out what the hell he’d been doing, kissing Dean like that and had fallen asleep without coming up with an answer.

“Morning, Daddy. We have presents for you and we made pancakes. I stirred the batter and got all messy, but now I’m clean again.”

Dean grinned and hugged Wyatt. Apparently father and son were finally on the same page. Dean sent Mason a devastating smile and Mason’s stomach did somersaults.

Chapter 11

D
EAN
WAS
still trying to catch up when he sat down at the kitchen table. He didn’t know who to look at—a grinning and bouncing Wyatt or a sexy Mason willingly cooking. Both were a feast for Dean’s eyes, and both were surprising. He hadn’t expected Wyatt to just forgive the previous day’s abandonment or Mason to consider Dean’s birthday important enough to battle his kitchen fears again. Dean had been up less than an hour, and already it was the best birthday he’d ever had.

“Happy birthday,” Mason said softly as he put a plate full of pancakes and syrupy blackberries in front of Dean, along with a cup of coffee and a glass of juice.

“Thank you.” Dean was barely able to get the words out. Mason’s nearness brought back the memory of the kiss from the night before.

“Daddy, will you open my presents now?”

“You bet.” Dean let Wyatt’s hopeful face tear him away from the thought of Mason’s lips.

“Mason helped me wrap them,” Wyatt informed Dean as he started to open one of the presents. “I got tape stuck in my hair.”

Dean bit his lip. “Ouch. Did it hurt to get out?”

Wyatt shook his head. “Mason fixed it.”

Meeting Mason’s gaze across the table, he smiled. They would have been screwed without him.

When Dean pulled the frame from the wrapping paper, his heart stuttered. The frame had three sections, each showing off a gorgeous photo of Wyatt. In the top one, he looked almost serious. The next showed him smiling, and in the third one, he was laughing. Dean couldn’t remember receiving a more perfect gift, and it shamed him to realize that they were the first photos he had of his son. He had to take a deep breath before talking.

“Thank you so much, Wyatt. It’s the best present anyone has ever given me. Do you want to help me find a good spot for it after breakfast?”

Wyatt nodded and smeared blackberry syrup up to his ears as he happily ate his pealess pancakes.

The second present from Wyatt—a drawing of three figures the kid proclaimed were himself, Mason, and Dean, along with a big blob that was supposed to be Sweet Pea—was equally moving. Wyatt liked to color, but he’d never given Dean one of his masterpieces before. And the figures on the paper, one small and two big, were as precious to Dean as the photos.

“Thank you, kiddo.” He hugged Wyatt, not caring one bit that his shirt was going to get sticky.

“Open Mason’s present now!”

With a shrug and an almost-embarrassed smile, Mason handed over a gift. “It’s not much.”

Dean nodded subtly toward the photo frame, knowing Wyatt hadn’t secretly gotten a job bagging groceries to pay for it. Mason shrugged again and smiled.

At first Dean thought Mason was giving him something he already owned. And not only owned, but filled with secrets no one knew about. Not even Mason. It looked like the leather binder he’d found in a box of his mother’s things when he was a kid and which he had used when he started corresponding with Mason in college. It contained more than just Mason’s letters, though. Secret thoughts and mementos had found their way to the binder over the years. But this wasn’t the binder. It was a notebook that looked a lot like it.

“For all your ideas,” Mason said softly. “If you don’t write them down, your head might explode one day.”

Dean smiled at him, knowing that Mason remembered the one time, a decade before, when Dean had showed him the binder. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Perfect like his birthday and the two people who were celebrating it with him. Dean couldn’t remember a better morning—ever.

They all drove to town after breakfast. Dean needed to talk store business with Karen and Pete, and Mason was meeting a woman about some pottery. They agreed to meet at the diner for lunch.

With Wyatt in one hand—suddenly the boy didn’t mind that anymore—Dean went into the store. It was changing every day due to Mason’s talent for finding new products, and it looked more and more like the vision Dean had had all along.

“Morning, boys. Happy birthday, Dean.” Karen smiled and ushered them inside.

“Thanks. How’re things?”

“They’re great. I’ve got a mile-long list I need to go over with you. How about we take it to the office out back? Wyatt can test those new wooden jigsaw puzzles we got the other day, while we talk. Would you like that, Wyatt?”

Reverting back to his old self, Wyatt merely nodded.

While they talked business, Dean kept a watchful eye on Wyatt. Not because he was scared the boy would run off, but because he owed it to his son to be a better parent. When Wyatt began to look bored, Dean quickly ended the meeting and told Karen they’d cover the rest over the phone later.

Dean took Wyatt for a walk down Main Street until it was time to meet Mason. He’d never really spent time with him before. Sure, they’d been together a lot, but Dean was always working and left Wyatt to entertain himself.

When it got too cold to walk around aimlessly, they stopped to buy groceries and a couple of new movies that Wyatt picked out.

“Aren’t they too ’spensive?”

Dean frowned down at a worried-looking Wyatt. Had Diana not had enough money for a movie once in a while? “No, not at all. Go ahead and pick some out. Did you not have movies before?” Dean asked, hoping that talking about Diana wouldn’t upset him.

“No, just the ones on TV. I liked Babar the best, but then it stopped.”

“Is that like a cartoon?”

Wyatt nodded. “About elephants.”

Dean realized he needed to brush up on his cartoon knowledge. “Let’s see if they have that here, then.”

Four new movies later, it was time for lunch at the diner with Mason. After dropping off their purchases in the truck, Wyatt eagerly led an amused Dean toward the diner. But the amusement evaporated as soon as Dean caught sight of Mason waiting outside the diner. He wasn’t alone. Next to him stood Tyler Martin.

Tyler Martin was the biggest idiot in Montana. At least that was Dean’s opinion. They’d met through friends—the high school friends Dean had all but lost contact with because of his professional drive and inability to let his true self show. Tyler’s gaydar apparently worked perfectly. He made Dean half an hour into a wedding they both attended. Dean had been terrified. And it hadn’t helped that Tyler had stalked him for five months, not able to understand that Dean wasn’t the least bit interested. And now the nightmare on two legs stood next to Mason with a hand on his arm—and apparently superfunny, as Mason’s head was thrown back in laughter. Dean’s blood was boiling.

He stalked down the road and cursed under his breath when Tyler leaned in close to Mason’s face and said something that made Mason laugh again. Dean didn’t stop until he was right in front of Mason, whose eyes lit up.

“Dean. Long time, no see.”

Tyler continued talking, but Dean didn’t hear him. He leaned in and claimed Mason’s lips in a bruising, possessive kiss. For a moment, everything but Mason ceased to exist, and Dean lost himself completely. The softness of Mason’s lips, the hardness of his body, and his familiar taste. Dean curled his hand around Mason’s neck, fusing them together, and it wasn’t until he tried to bring his other hand into the game that he realized he was still holding Wyatt’s hand.

Shit.

Breathing hard, Dean pulled back. Mason had a dazed look on his face, and all Dean wanted was to lean in again. He still had Mason’s taste on his lips and he didn’t want to let it go. He swallowed a sigh and shot a quick glare at Tyler. It was all his fault. If he hadn’t been pawing at Mason, then Dean wouldn’t have seen red and kissed Mason right there on Main Street while holding his son’s hand.

Shit again.

“Umm….” Dean didn’t know what to say, just that he felt like he had to say
something.
Mason’s dazed look was fading, as was Wyatt’s wide-eyed look.

“You’re always spoiling my fun, Walker. Not cool.” The look in Tyler’s eyes softened when he turned to Mason. “You can find me every weekend at The Clover if you change your mind.”

Dean watched him leave and then looked down at Wyatt. “How about some lunch?” His voice caught near the end of the sentence, but he wasn’t going to explain in the middle of the street. He’d done enough damage in public for one day. “Mason? Lunch?”

“Yeah.” Mason looked almost amused.

The minute they entered the diner, Lydia appeared and started fussing. It took a while before she was finally satisfied they had everything they needed and left them alone. Wyatt was busy separating peas and carrots on his plate while Mason hid a smile behind spoonfuls of mushroom soup. Dean stared at his burger and tried to figure out what to say. How to explain to Mason why he’d mauled him in public and how to explain to Wyatt why his daddy was kissing another man. Nothing came to mind.

“I’ve always loved this mushroom soup—never once tasted a better one anywhere.” Mason hummed as he took another spoonful. “I tried to copy it from memory in New York but couldn’t. I think it was the herbs I got wrong.”

Dean stared at him. “Herbs?”

Mason nodded. “Maybe I went a little overboard with the thyme.”

“Thyme. Right.”

Chuckling, Mason shook his head and kept eating. Dean noticed that Mason looked longingly at the counter and the kitchen area behind it.

“So I should probably explain. About what just happened outside, I mean.”

“No need to explain anything to me. I think I got the point. Thoroughly. But maybe….” Mason gestured to an oblivious Wyatt, who was making a carrot pile on his plate.

“Yeah.” Dean frowned, wondering how to go about that. He was glad Wyatt didn’t seem to be traumatized or anything, but who knew what was going on in that little mind of his. And only the day after being lost for hours. Dean obviously hadn’t gotten any better at the whole parenting thing.

When they’d finished their meal, Lydia tried to talk them into dessert. “I’ve spent all morning baking pies.”

“Sorry, Lydia,” Mason said quickly. “I’m sure they’re delicious, but we’ve got stuff to do.”

Frowning because he could have eaten a slice of pie—or two—Dean tried to think of what stuff they had to do. He came up with nothing. “But w—”