Letting Hearts Heal (15 page)

“Yes.” Mason interrupted and put a small stack of bills on top of the check. “We do need to go. Come on, Wyatt.”

“Bye, Miss Lydia.” Wyatt waved, and helped herd Dean out of the diner. Or at least that’s what it felt like to Dean.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Mason grinned. “Wyatt and I have something we need to pick up. If there’s nothing else you need in town, can you meet us over by the gas station in fifteen minutes?”

Knowing he’d been dismissed for the time being, Dean nodded. “Okay.”

“I
S
IT
a big cake? Is it chocolate? When can we taste it, huh?” Wyatt was bouncing as they entered the bakery, and Mason chuckled when he asked for his order.

“It’s big enough to give you a tummy ache if you eat it all on your own. And yes, it’s chocolate. You chose it yourself, remember?”

Wyatt frowned before bouncing again. “Yes. In the picture it had sprinkles.”

“That’s right.” The bakery lady came out with the cake and showed it to Wyatt before putting it in a box.

“I think it tastes good.” Wyatt nodded. Then he got distracted by the cakes in the display.

Mason paid for the cake and picked up the box. “Come on, kiddo. Your daddy’s waiting.”

“Cake, cake, cake,” Wyatt sang as they made the short walk to the gas station where Dean was waiting. Mason was glad the boy seemed happy after the previous day’s drama and the earlier excitement on Main Street.

The incident was a mystery. Mason had been waiting for Dean and Wyatt when a guy he vaguely remembered from school approached him and started talking about some bar where he spent his weekends. He easily pegged Mason as gay, which was nothing new. In New York, Mason often felt he wore a sign on his back advertising his sexuality, and he felt lucky he’d never taken any heat for it. That had been reserved for his family.

The guy—and Mason couldn’t for the life of him remember his name—made a joke about gaydar, and Mason laughed. Then the guy put his hand on Mason’s arm, ignoring the concept of personal space. Mason took a step back and saw Dean and Wyatt walking toward him—his very own saviors, in so many ways.

Of course he never saw the kiss coming. Mason felt his temperature rising just thinking about it. It wasn’t hard to see it for what it had been—jealousy. But when jealousy was
that
hot, Dean could bring it anytime he wanted.

“Daddy, we have cake.” Wyatt tugged on Mason’s hand when he spotted Dean.

Mason suddenly wished he’d faced his fears and made a cake himself, instead of buying one from what was probably still a mediocre bakery. The sprinkled chocolate concoction Wyatt had chosen suddenly seemed like it wasn’t enough for Dean’s birthday. Had Mason been his old self, he would have made the best cake Dean had ever tasted. However, if Mason had been his old self, he would probably still be in New York.

“Cake?” Dean looked so much like Wyatt when he was excited.

“Wouldn’t be much of a birthday without one, would it?”

Dean snorted. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve had cake for my birthday.”

“By all means then—go be excited.” Mason forced a smile while he mentally cursed Mr. Walker to hell. Though that was probably a short trip, considering he should already be there.

Back on the ranch, Wyatt wore himself out and was tucked in for a nap. He made Dean and Mason promise not to eat cake without him. Those Walker boys took their cake—and their peas—seriously.

Dean’s cell phone rang, and he retreated to the office to take it. Mason put the cake away and dug out the ingredients for hot chocolate, determined to brave the stove later when Wyatt woke up for the few minutes it took to make it. Birthday cake without hot chocolate seemed like almost a crime.

Mason plopped down on the window seat in the living room. Outside, the sky was gray and looked like it might release more snow. What a day it had been. A smile played on Mason’s lips when he thought again about the kiss. He hoped it wouldn’t be the last—and that they’d happen more often.

Mason didn’t have a lot to offer. He owned next to nothing except a load of mental baggage, and even the skills he’d worked so hard to hone were partly cut off from him. But even empty-handed, he still hoped he was enough for Dean. He wanted what they used to have—and more. A secret teenage romance wasn’t enough. Mason wanted forever with Dean.

“A piece of cake for your thoughts.”

Mason chuckled and turned to look at Dean. “You sure my thoughts are worth a piece of your birthday cake?”

“I’ll risk it.” Dean sat in the other end of the large window seat.

“I was thinking about how to get back what I’ve lost,” Mason paraphrased his thoughts.

“The cooking?”

“That too. It’s been on my mind a lot, and I don’t think there’s any other way around it than to force myself past the fears holding me back. But it’s scary as hell. It takes a lot out of me every time.”

“Is there anything that might make it easier?”

Mason shrugged. “Yes and no. Like when I cook with Wyatt, he’s able to distract me a little, but I’m also more tense because I’m worried about his safety.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“You already are.” Mason smiled and boldly grabbed Dean’s hand. “You’re giving me a relaxed environment where I can test my boundaries. I could never take things at my own pace in a professional kitchen. I’d either have to cook or get out.”

“My kitchen is your kitchen.” The words were spoken softly, and Mason sensed a lot more meaning behind them.

They sat quietly for a while, both looking out the window and holding hands. Mason couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so relaxed.

“When I tucked Wyatt in, I tried to explain about… well, about why I kissed you.” Dean rubbed his neck, looking a little awkward.

Mason chuckled. “Damn, I’d have loved to hear that go down. What did you say?”

Dean shrugged. “I was so flustered at first that I don’t remember half of what I said, to be honest. How do you explain being gay to a four-year-old?”

“No idea.”

“Exactly.” Dean grinned and squeezed Mason’s hand. “But Wyatt and I came up with an explanation together. He’s too smart for his own good sometimes, that kid.”

“And what’s the explanation?”

“You kiss the people you love.”

Chapter 12

“A
LL
RIGHT
.”
Mason didn’t hesitate getting up and leaning into Dean. “You kiss the people you love.”

The kiss seared Mason’s soul, embedding itself in more than just his memory. It was the first kiss between them in almost a decade that was unrushed and honest. Dean pulled Mason closer, and Mason followed willingly until he was straddling Dean’s lap. There was hunger, exploration, and familiarity in the mating of their lips. Mason took advantage of their position and ground himself into the hard body beneath him. Dean moaned his approval into Mason’s mouth and anchored them together with one arm. They explored with their hands while their mouths stayed fused together. It was heaven and home wrapped into one delicious ball of love.

“God, Mase….” Dean’s breath was choppy, and he slid his stubbly cheek down Mason’s neck.

It made Mason want to melt in a puddle right there in Dean’s lap. “Can you… oh God…
yes
… right there…. Shit.”

Dean chuckled against his skin, and Mason decided to shut him up—or at least get him to make other sounds. He ground into Dean again, hardness meeting hardness, and there they were—the glorious Dean Walker moans.

D
EAN
PUSHED
Mason away, smiling apologetically as he tried to catch his breath. “Sorry, babe. I hear Wyatt on the stairs. I think kissing is a big enough step for him to get used to in one day. I don’t know how to explain
this
to him.”

Mason chuckled breathlessly and pecked Dean’s lips before crawling to the other end of the window seat. “You’re kinda hard to resist.”

“Kinda right back at you.”

Adjusting himself through his jeans, Dean took a deep breath and tried to go from sexually deprived mode to daddy mode. It was extremely hard, he decided, and then rolled his eyes at his lame pun.

Wyatt ran in and wriggled between them in the window seat. “Did you eat cake yet?”

Mason laughed and tickled him. “Yep. We ate the whole thing. There’s not a crumb left for you.”

The boy chortled until Mason stopped the tickling. “No, you didn’t.”

“You’re right. We didn’t.”

“Good.” Wyatt bobbed his head a couple of times before getting to his feet on the seat. He kissed first Dean’s cheek, then Mason’s. “Can we have cake now?”

Amused and more than a little bit touched, Dean nodded and pulled Wyatt in so he could return the cheek kiss. Then he watched his son run off. “You kiss the people you love,” he said softly.

“You know, there’s been a couple of times where I’ve really hated the kid’s mom, but I guess she did a good job raising him.”

Dean leaned forward. “Why have you hated Diana?”

“The day I took Wyatt shopping and he got Sweet Pea, he acted like he’d never seen the inside of a toy store before. You should have seen the awe on his face.”

Dean sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I guess I’ve had enough time to take him too.”

“She had much longer.”

“Yeah, I guess. He was kind of the same when we were shopping for movies today—asked if they weren’t too expensive.”

Mason groaned. “That might be my fault. Sorry. When I asked him what he wanted to get you for your birthday, he suggested a horse, and I had to tell him it was too expensive.”

Dean chuckled. “I appreciate the pictures a hell of a lot more than I would a horse too.”

“They were his second idea.” Mason smiled. “He’s so bright. He said you had lots of pictures, but none of him. And he picked a chocolate cake for you because of a certain drawer in your desk you think is a secret.”

“That little sneak.” Dean chuckled. He had one hell of a boy, and he was only just starting to appreciate him.

“Daddy! Mason! I can’t reach the cake!”

Dean stood and held his hand out for Mason. “I think we’re being summoned.”

“I think you just want to avoid talking about your drawer full of chocolate. But look at the bright side—at least Wyatt didn’t stumble across your drawer full of sex toys.”

“I don’t have one of those.” But damn, the images that filled his head at the thought. Maybe he
should
have a drawer like that. With a big padlock.

Mason cackled and let Dean pull him to his feet. “Come on, birthday boy. Cake time.”

The look on Wyatt’s face when he saw them entering the kitchen said
finally
, as did the fists at his sides.

“Hang on while I make hot chocolate,” Mason said and headed for the stove.

“Mase, you don’t have to.” Dean grabbed plates and cake forks and sent Mason a concerned look. Dean hated the idea of Mason pushing himself unnecessarily for his sake.

“I know.” Flashing a quick grin over his shoulder, Mason did his thing as if he’d never done anything but make hot chocolate. “I want to.”

“I like hot chocolate.” Wyatt was staring longingly at the cake on the table.

Mason chuckled. “I think you’re a chocolate boy like your daddy.”

“Yep, that’s us.” Dean pulled Wyatt into his lap and kissed the top of his head. “Walker boys need their chocolate.”

“Lots and lots of chocolate,” Wyatt agreed.

“Well, then.” Mason poured his concoction into three mugs, one of them a small plastic one for Wyatt. “Don’t let me stand in the way. Here you go.”

“Yum.” Wyatt crawled back on his own chair.

“Thank you.” Dean smiled at Mason, who was cutting the cake. Thoughtful gifts, lots of chocolate, and the company of the two people in the world he loved the most? Best birthday ever. He took a bite of cake and hummed his approval. Wyatt had already managed to smear frosting over half his face. Thoughts—negative thoughts—suddenly filled Dean’s mind. When would the other shoe drop? Because it always did.

When Wyatt fell asleep that night, Dean went into the attic. He had sorted through the house after his father’s death and was glad he kept a lot of the old stuff. Some of it might interest Wyatt one day when he got old enough to ask questions about his Walker ancestors. Dean’s grandmother, who he barely remembered, had been big on genealogy.

Mason sneezed. “Ever think of cleaning up here? God, I think that spider over there in the corner is bigger than my palm.”

“You’re a big baby. Quit looking for spiders and start looking for Christmas decorations. I know they’re up here, somewhere.”

Mason poked at the nearest box. “You haven’t had any of it up?”

“No. Couldn’t be bothered when it was just me here. Dad wasn’t very Christmassy either. But I know my mom and grandmother had lots of stuff. I saw it years ago up here.”

Mason sneezed again. “I think your attic is giving me asthma.”

Snorting, Dean shuffled some ancient boxes around. “Hypochondriac.”