Letting Hearts Heal (20 page)

“So we’re not breaking up, just… cooling it for a while?”

Dean looked so confused and frustrated that Mason felt bad for not being better at communicating his thoughts. “We’re building the foundation of something that will hopefully last forever. It’s gotta be done right. If you want to, that is.”

“I want that more than anything.”

The lighting wasn’t good, but Mason was sure Dean’s eyes were shining with unshed tears. More than anything, Mason wanted to melt into Dean and forget the world, but he had to stay strong. He was pretty certain that he was doing the right thing, so caving in wasn’t an option if it was to work.

Mason stood, still holding Sweet Pea, who had been his anchor since Wyatt knocked on his door and gave the toy horse to him. He had claimed it would make Mason feel better. “We can talk about the chef thing in the morning. I think we both need a couple of hours of sleep.”

Dean nodded. Mason wasn’t entirely convinced that Dean saw or understood what Mason wanted to achieve. The fact that Dean was going along with it anyway told Mason everything he needed to know. Mason wanted Dean forever—Dean and Wyatt. Nothing had changed that. But he needed something solid, so a hand dropped in public wouldn’t ever freak him out again. Just like Dean and Wyatt needed someone who wasn’t afraid.

“Good night, Dean.”

“Good night.”

Mason went upstairs. He left Dean alone in the living room and headed for the guest bedroom, where he’d already put his things back in the dresser. He wasn’t sure either of them would get any sleep, but he had to at least try. If he were going to cook for a living again, he needed all the mental strength he could get.

Chapter 16

D
EAN
’
S
BODY
felt as shattered as his heart and his sanity did when he dragged himself out of bed the following morning. He wasn’t sure he’d slept after he finally went to bed just before dawn, but there was no way he’d be able to handle Wyatt’s energy without a shower and a bucket of coffee first.

“Daddy, are you awake?”

Okay, no coffee first. “Yeah. I’m just going to shower before I come down and make breakfast. Go watch cartoons for a while.”

“Okay.”

Dean dragged himself into the shower and let the hot water spray into his face. Cold probably would have been better, but he felt abused enough already. No need to make it worse.

His thoughts drifted to the previous day and night. It was difficult to believe that a dropped hand in public had made the whole house tumble down. It was hard to blame Mason, though. Dean could understand how bad it made Mason feel to think that Dean was ashamed of him. And it also wasn’t hard to understand that Mason wanted to regain the part of himself that he’d lost. Dean tried to imagine an obstacle that would keep him from doing what he loved best. He was sure he wouldn’t feel whole either.

Yet…. Dean sighed and vigorously scrubbed the shampoo into his hair. He knew he’d be beating himself up for a long time. Everything had been going so well, and then he just had to fuck it up. He wasn’t convinced that everything was going to work out between them, but he did know that he was going to fight for Mason. And for now, he’d follow Mason’s lead. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for him.

The sound of laughter met Dean when he made his way downstairs after his shower. After everything that had happened, the sound was soothing and gave him hope.

“Daddy. Mason is making waffles.” Wyatt was running around, doing a bang-up job of impersonating a dog chasing its own tail while he set the table.

Dean looked at Mason and raised his eyebrows. He sure as hell wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to conquer his cooking fears. This was the first time he’d willingly cooked without there being a special reason.

Mason looked tired too, but he offered Dean a small smile that fed his hope that things would somehow work out.

After they’d eaten and Wyatt had run out, Dean cleared his throat. “So, are you sure about the whole chef thing?”

“I am. And I have some ideas. You said you wanted to put the produce boxes together to go with a recipe each week?”

“That’s right. I’m experimenting with new and rare kinds of vegetables, and I think it would be easier for people if they had a recipe when they use them.”

Mason nodded. “How far ahead do you plan what goes into the boxes? I’d like to get started, and possibly also get ahead so I can do other stuff. Maybe we could do catering in the long run?”

The enthusiasm Mason showed fed Dean’s, and for the first time that day, he felt fully awake. Maybe working together was the first step toward what he really wanted.

“I only plan ahead so I know I have enough variety for the boxes, but we can go outside and take a look at what we have so you can get the specifics.”

“Great.” Mason stood, picked up his notebook, and grabbed his jacket.

Dean followed. It was only because he knew Mason as well as he did that he could see that the enthusiasm also acted as cover for his fear. Dean worried that Mason was pushing himself too much. Wanting to overcome your fears was a good thing, but so was pacing yourself. Dean vowed to keep an eye on him.

Outside, Wyatt played in the dirt and Mason scribbled into his notebook while Dean went over when the various vegetables would be ready to box. He patiently answered Mason’s questions about what kind of meat and dairy products they could add to the boxes and what they might have stored. The business was about to take a giant leap, thanks to Mason, and Dean could feel the enthusiasm catching.

“Mind if I use the kitchen in the house for practicing? I think I’d be more comfortable there right now than if I used the Meat House.”

“Of course not.” Dean stopped, making Mason stop as well, and raised his gaze to meet Mason’s. “The ranch is your home.”

The smile he got in return was enough to save Dean’s day.

“H
EY
, M
ASE
?”

“Yeah?” Mason looked up from the recipe he was working on to see Dean in the doorway. He liked to write down what sounded good in his head before taking the practical approach in the kitchen.

“Karen called. I need to head into town for a few hours. Can Wyatt stay here with you?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks. I’ll call if I get held up.”

Dean stomped upstairs, yelling for Wyatt, and Mason closed his eyes, trying to envision the dish he was creating. It was good to do his thing again. At least on paper.

“Mason?”

Mason look up from his notebook, and his neck told him he’d been at it for too long. He came face to face with a fidgeting Wyatt. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“Are you and Daddy mad at each other?”

Mason pushed away from the table and picked Wyatt up to sit in his lap. “No, what makes you think that?”

He leaned against Mason’s chest and grabbed a fistful of his sweater. “You don’t talk as much. Or smile. Sometimes when Mommy was mad, she was quiet too.”

Whenever Wyatt talked about his mom, Mason always felt like someone was crushing his heart. He couldn’t imagine being a little motherless boy, unable to understand loss and grief. He hugged Wyatt close. “I promise you that Daddy and I are not mad at each other. We’re just…. Well, you see, a while ago I was working in a restaurant that burned down. Then I started working somewhere else, and there was another fire. I got so scared of cooking that I stopped completely. And I miss it. While I’ve been here, I haven’t cooked much, but now I’m going to cook a lot, all the time, so I’ll stop being scared. And that makes me unhappy, at least for a while.”

“But then you’ll be happy again?”

Mason nodded and kissed the top of Wyatt’s head. “You bet I will. As soon as I stop being scared.”

“And Daddy will be happy again too?”

“I hope so, kiddo. I hope so.”

“I’m scared too.” Wyatt’s voice was soft, and Mason hugged him closer.

“What are you scared of?”

“That you and Daddy will go away too. Like Mommy.”

Mason knew his fate was sealed. No matter what happened, he wouldn’t disappear out of Wyatt’s life. “No one’s going away, kiddo.”

Wyatt said nothing, just snuggled closer and refused to move. Mason let him be and just worked around him, jotting down his recipe ideas with Wyatt in his lap. Pretty soon the boy was asleep.

Mason had planned to try out and adjust the recipe, but he couldn’t get himself to move. Wyatt was giving him the perfect excuse to postpone the next stage of facing his fears by using him as a mattress.

That night, after they ate the baked potatoes and steak dinner Mason had prepared, Dean roped Wyatt into helping him decorate the house with the Christmas stuff he’d found in the attic. Mason sat on the couch with a notebook and watched. At first he pretended to scribble down recipes, but he gave up to watch Dean and Wyatt have a tinsel war.

“There’s something to be said about not doing any Christmas decorating for almost thirty years.” Dean held out a vintage glass angel dangling from a bow. “You find yourself with decorations that are so old that they’re actually cool. None of that plastic shit they have in stores, nowadays. This would have broken years ago if it had been up every year.”

“There is that.” Mason didn’t see the point of having things just for show. Like Dean’s train that had been on a shelf instead of on the floor where it belonged. He was happy Dean was apparently not overly concerned about them breaking the ornaments and let Wyatt handle them.

Christmas in the Schneider household hadn’t been much more festive than on the Walker ranch. His dad was against the heathen aspects of the holidays, which meant that Mason and his siblings never got the chance to believe in Santa Claus. It wasn’t until Mason got older that he realized his father had stolen something from him by denying him something so fundamental. He looked at Wyatt and hoped that whatever kind of person his mom had been, she hadn’t denied him the same.

“Hey, Wyatt? What are you going to ask Santa for this year?”

Wyatt stopped digging in the box of decorations and frowned at Mason. “I can’t ask Santa this year.”

“Why not?” Mason sat up straighter, hoping to hell that Wyatt didn’t mean what he suspected. Dean stopped hanging the garland of evergreens Anna had made and looked over too.

“’Cause Santa is at the mall at my old house where I lived with Mommy. I can’t go see him.”

Letting out a relieved breath, Mason smiled at the worried-looking boy. “Santa comes to all the malls. Remember the one where we bought Daddy’s birthday presents? He’s coming there.”

“Really?” Hope shone in the blue eyes that looked so much like his father’s.

“You bet. Daddy can take you there, and you can even draw something for Santa if you want. I’m sure he likes drawings. And if you want to write him a letter, Daddy or I will help you.”

“I wanna write him a letter.” Bouncing over to Dean, the boy was all sunshine and smiles. “Can we go see Santa tomorrow, Daddy? Can we, huh?”

“Maybe not tomorrow. We have to check when he’s there, first.” Dean mock glared at Mason over Wyatt’s head, but Mason just grinned. “But we can write the letter tomorrow. As well as finish decorating. I think it’s bedtime now.”

“Okay.” Bouncing up the stairs, waving good night as he went, Wyatt gave off enough energy to power up the entire ranch for a week. Mason had to wonder if he was ever going to fall asleep.

Dean came back down an hour and two tentative soup recipes later. “Thanks for that. Mentioning Santa just before bedtime is hereby not allowed in this house. I thought he’d never fall asleep.”

Chuckling, Mason moved his legs so Dean could sit down on the couch. “I didn’t think about what time it was. I was just thinking about how my dad rejected all parts of Christmas that weren’t religious, meaning that Santa wasn’t something we ever got to believe in. I was afraid Wyatt might not believe either. Some of the things he says about his mom….”

“Yeah, I know. Makes me wish I’d actually known Diana.” Dean sighed, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back.

Silence fell, and although Mason didn’t find it particularly comfortable, he didn’t know how to break it. Mason was free to let his hungry eyes roam. He had never known it was possible to miss someone who was right next to him, but he missed Dean. He missed the closeness, the ease, and feeling like he wasn’t on his own anymore—missed being able to sneak a kiss and a grope whenever he wanted. Missed being two instead of one.

“You okay?”

Mason had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Dean opening his eyes and looking at him. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About the recipes?” Dean sat back up. “Do you know when you might be ready with the first one?”

“Shouldn’t be long.” Mason looked down at his notebook and wondered if Dean missed him too. “I need you to proofread them. Pierre used to make fun of me because no one could read my recipes. I didn’t think they were that bad, though.”

“I’ll look them over,” Dean promised. “The product descriptions you did for the website weren’t half bad, you know.”