Intercepted (New Hope #1)

CHAPTER TEN

Mason

Something changed between me and Mallory on Halloween.

I thought our argument would heighten any animosity between us, but the opposite occurred. We both needed to lay our feelings on the table. Not all of them, but just enough to take the edge off. Just enough to understand each other a bit more.

It's true, I wanted to stay with Mallory and the kids, but she insisted I go to college. She said we needed time apart. For her, it would be a chance to rediscover herself in the confines of motherhood. For me, it would be the opportunity to get an education and pursue a career in football. It made sense. God's sake, her parents were paying for diapers. We needed the money.

So, I moved to Georgia, and Mallory moved on with David. She did what she thought was best. She thought about her relationship with David logistically, not emotionally. She didn't use him, but she did rely on him. His protection, his presence, his love. That's what hurt the most.

I've been with many women, but I knew better than to try to love them. I knew it would never work—not with Mallory's name carved into my heart. But Mallory tried. She tried to love David until, eventually, she did in some capacity.

There's nothing I can do about the past, but I'm not about to let my present or our future slip away. She said she doesn't want to be my second choice. Doesn't she know? If she'd given me the opportunity, I would've chosen her and the kids first. Without hesitation and without regret.

With our newfound understanding, we've carved out a routine. She takes the kids to school, then goes to work at the studio. I spend the day doing chores and getting beaten to smithereens by my physical therapist, then gather the kids from their afterschool activities. I make dinner and clean the kitchen while Mallory helps them with their homework. After she tucks Blake in, we watch mindless television.

We argue over the outcome of Survivor and attempt to predict the ending of White Lotus. She always knows who's going to get voted off or murdered, respectively. I'm too busy staring at her to notice anything else.

Around ten, Aidan and Grace come downstairs to say goodnight. I get a hug from Aidan, but Grace just nods in my general vicinity. Like her mom, she's a tough nut to crack. Banishing demons or being a designated driver isn't going to work with her. It's my hope that her trust issues lie solely with me, and don't affect her in other areas of her life moving forward.

I'm not invited back into Mallory's bedroom, but that's not a surprise. My nights are filled with self-reflection and cold toes, my feet dangling off the edge of the guest bed. I toss and turn for a few hours, then drift into deep sleep. I dream of white-blonde hair wrapped around my fist and the silky ribbons on pointe shoes. I dream of colicky babies and the smell of freshly cut grass. I dream of the little moments that make up our lives.

But mostly, I dream of Mallory. Even in sleep, I can't escape her, and I'd never want to.

***

At eight o'clock on a Tuesday night in November, I jog into the kitchen to make a protein shake. Blake is alone at the island, scowling as he repeatedly stabs a piece of broccoli with his fork.

"What'd that poor vegetable ever do to you?" I joke, pouring milk into a plastic cup and dropping the blending ball inside.

Blake glances up but doesn't smile. "Momma says I have to finish my broccoli."

I furrow my brow.

We ate dinner at six, which means Blake has been sitting here for two whole hours. Mallory encourages the kids to eat their food, but she never forces them. Then again, she's been uncharacteristically insufferable today. When I said good morning, she replied with a snort and, "Is it?"