Letting Hearts Heal (25 page)

“Good. I like him too. In fact, I love him almost as much as I love you. And I want him to stay here on the ranch. You, me, and he are a family.”

Wyatt nodded again. “A good family. You don’t yell and throw things.”

Closing his eyes briefly, Dean chose to ignore for the time being how Wyatt might know about families that yell and throw things. He’d ask about that some other time. “Exactly. But you see, Mason has had some bad things happen to him before he came here. He was in two fires, and then he got scared of cooking. When someone gets scared like that, they start liking themselves less. Do you understand?”

“Mason doesn’t like himself because he’s scared,” Wyatt summarized. “But Daddy, we like him. So he can stay, right?”

“We need to convince him. You and I wouldn’t be very happy if he left, would we?”

Wyatt shook his head. “Can’t we make him like himself again?”

“I hope so. I’m thinking that if we love him and show that we want him around all the time, then that might help.”

“He can have Sweet Pea.”

“Sweet Pea was a gift from Mason, so I think you should keep it. But if Mason’s sad, you can let him borrow it.”

“Okay.”

Dean patted down Wyatt’s unruly curls. He needed a haircut. “So you think the three of us being a family is a good thing?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps….” Dean hesitated, wondering how to word what he wanted to say. “You know that if I married a woman, you’d get a new mom, right?”

“But you won’t. You love Mason. You kiss the people you love, you said so.”

“That’s right.” Dean smiled at his smart little son. “So if we can convince Mason that we love him, he could be your daddy too.”

Wyatt slid down and grabbed Dean’s hand. “We can tell him now so he can also be my daddy.”

Chuckling, Dean stopped him. “Hang on. We have to have a plan first. It’s important that we don’t mess it up, you know.”

Wyatt came back. “Okay.”

M
ASON
LOOKED
at the recipe in his hand. Dean had proofread it, and together they’d come up with a format for all his recipes. It was like a page in the cookbook Mason had secretly dreamed of putting together. Maybe he’d get a binder.

Sighing, he put down the piece of paper. He’d worked hard for that one simple recipe. It wasn’t even spectacular or restaurant worthy—just simple, quick, and suited for a busy family who liked quality ingredients. But at least he’d convinced Dean to add a photo. That had been the best part—plating it up and snapping away with Dean’s digital camera. Dean had laughed at the thirty-seven photos of the same plate.

Picking the recipe up again, Mason started to wonder if maybe a frame wasn’t more suitable than a binder. It was like a diploma for having worked hard at conquering the fears that had lived—and still lived—inside of him.

He looked up when Wyatt ran in. The smile that pulled at his lips involuntarily died before it bloomed fully. Wyatt looked terrified. Mason squatted down quickly, his mind working through a thousand catastrophe scenarios.

“The horsies.” Wyatt was out of breath and couldn’t stand still. “The stables are burning. Big flames.”

Mason felt his heart freeze, a mix of dread and fear paralyzing him. Flames engulfed his mind, and he was back in every nightmare he’d ever had, back in the kitchen in Manhattan, back in the greasy diner in Indiana.

“Daddy said to go inside.”

Wyatt’s words penetrated Mason’s prison of fear. Dean. Dean was out there, in or near the fire. Mason shook himself out of it. “Daddy’s right. Stay here, okay? I’ll just go out and check.”

Nodding, Wyatt took Mason so seriously that he plopped right down on the floor and just sat there. Mason kissed his windblown curls, stood up, and blindly went to grab his boots. There was a fire. Deadly flames. And somewhere close to them was the man he loved. As he neared the front door, he could hear a horse neighing in fear or, hopefully, in frustration over being handled roughly away from danger.

Boots almost on, Mason streaked outside, stopping halfway between the house and the stable. Flames licked one side of the building, and Mason thought of all the hay inside. Even with panic bubbling up in his throat, he could tell that the hands leading the horses away from the burning building were all a lot calmer than he was. He looked around for Dean and finally spotted him with Joe. He ran to them, slammed into Dean, and wrapped his arms tightly around him.

“It’s okay. Everyone’s okay.”

Mason realized he was shaking as Dean’s words registered in his mind. He did his best to let the knowledge that no one was hurt override his fear, but he could smell the smoke, hear the crackling, see the very fabric his worst nightmares were woven of.

“Probably something electrical,” Joe commented like Mason wasn’t currently wrapped around Dean. “Good thing you and the boy were in and spotted it early.”

Mason reared back. “What? You and Wyatt were inside when…?”

Dean sighed, and looked briefly at Joe before focusing on Mason. “Nothing happened to us. I spotted the fire, grabbed Wyatt, and ran out to alert everyone. The horses are fine, the hands are fine, and we’re all fine. It’s just a building. We can rebuild that easily enough.”

With everyone around him so relatively calm, Mason started to feel stupid as well as afraid.

“Go on inside and keep Wyatt company. The fire department is coming, and I just want to check around back to make sure the fire isn’t catching to the Meat House.”

“Be careful.” Mason hated to let Dean out of his sight.

“I will.” Dean leaned in for a kiss. “Go on in. You’re freezing in that T-shirt.”

Blind fear made him stupid, Mason realized on his way back to the house. He shouldn’t have left Wyatt alone, even for a moment. Mason was the grownup, and even though he was scared out of his scattered mind, it was still his job to make sure that Wyatt, a little boy who luckily hadn’t seen a fire before, was okay. Mason expected to find him on the floor where he’d left him, but when he came inside, Wyatt wasn’t there.

“Wyatt?” Mason went from room to room to look for him. He hoped he wasn’t too afraid. If he was, it was better for the two of them to be scared together, anyway. “Wyatt?”

The fear clutched Mason again when he couldn’t find Wyatt. He made his way back to the front door, but there were no little jacket or little boots there either.

“No, no, no,” Mason mumbled as he grabbed his own jacket and ran back outside. Dean was nowhere in sight, nor Joe. The hands were busy calming the horses, and there was no little figure anywhere near them. Mason looked around for a green jacket, and jogged from building to building while shouting Wyatt’s name. His search led him in the direction of the burning stable, but his need to find Wyatt far outweighed his fear of the flames.

“Wyatt!” Mason was so close to the stable that he could feel the heat. He tried to look in through the open door, refusing to let the flames make him turn away. Wyatt wouldn’t go in there. He was too smart. Mason looked again. Something was moving inside. Something… Mason’s heart dropped. Something green. Wyatt was inside a burning building.

For a second, Mason was distracted by Dean coming around the corner. Too far away, was the only thing Mason thought. Dean was too far away. Mason didn’t take a deep breath or count to ten, he just darted into the sea of flames, his only focus the little boy who had stolen his heart just as easily as his father had years before.

Mason had been inside a burning room before. The kitchen in Manhattan had been an inferno that he’d fully believed he’d never escape alive. This wasn’t any different. The heat wasn’t the worst thing—the smoke and the noise was. The sound of destruction, of death, and of nightmares. Mason would never learn to enjoy the sound of a crackling in a cozy fireplace.

Wyatt was huddled on the floor. The smoke and heat stung Mason’s eyes, so he couldn’t see if he was moving. But Mason clung to the fact that he had been moving just moments before. There was around ten feet between them. The fire was worse to Mason’s right, but it was eating its way across the ceiling, which made him fear the roof caving in. If it did, it would be the end of both Wyatt and himself. He quickly crossed half the distance. Then a coughing fit slowed him down, making his eyes water and making it more difficult to locate Wyatt through the smoke.

Behind him, he heard Dean calling his name. He tried to answer, tell him to stay outside where it was safe, but the smoke got his voice too. Stumbling, he moved forward further until he reached Wyatt. He picked him up, relief making a brief but intense appearance when little arms wove around his neck and what felt like Sweet Pea smashed between them. Halfway, Mason told himself. If he could get in, he could get out. One foot in front of the other until they were safe. Only he’d lost his sense of direction and now all he could see were flames and smoke. His eyes burned, he coughed, and the little body in his arms convulsed with coughing. The fire was worse to his right than to his left. Mason told himself to think. It had been that way on his way in too, so he needed to turn around. Keep the wall of flames to his left. Clutching Wyatt to his chest, he ran as fast as he could through the smoke, hoping like he’d never hoped before that he was right and that fresh air waited ahead of him.

Mason stumbled outside, squeezed his burning eyes shut as soon as he knew he was safe, and allowed himself to be caught by a frantic Dean. Joe was right behind him and reached for Wyatt just as Mason dropped on the ground, his knees blessedly cold after a few seconds in the snow. Part of him wanted to bury his face in the snow too. When he opened his eyes again, wincing as it stung, Dean’s blurry face appeared in his line of vision, and he was engulfed in a strong embrace.

“I thought you’d gone insane,” Dean mumbled into his hair, his voice catching. “You saved him. Oh God, if I’d lost you, any of you….”

Mason clung to Dean but looked around for Wyatt. He spotted him in Joe’s arms. Anna was hovering and fussing. “Is he okay?” Mason’s voice was only a whisper, but Dean heard him and pulled away.

“I think so. Thank you.”

They stood up and went over to Wyatt, Joe, and Anna. Wyatt immediately reached out his arms, and Dean took him, keeping one arm around Mason.

“Wyatt went back in for Sweet Pea, Dean,” Joe said.” He dropped it when you guys ran out earlier.”

Mason didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The adrenaline was wearing off quickly, and he was dying to collapse somewhere. That wasn’t happening, though. The fire trucks arrived first, and shortly after an ambulance screeched to a halt not far from where they were watching the water battle the flames. Mason had stopped thinking. He was just taking it all in. He figured he was in for some sort of reaction later, but he’d worry about it then.

The paramedics checked Wyatt out first. Mason tried to focus on what was being said, but couldn’t. It seemed they were satisfied with his breathing, though. Mason managed a smile when he realized how bravely Wyatt was handling the whole thing. The smile fell when it was his turn to be checked out, but he was grateful when he, too, pleased the stern-looking paramedics with his breathing. He’d never been happier when he, Dean, and Wyatt made their way to the house. The smoke clung to them, making Mason’s eyes continue to sting and his throat burn.

Mason headed straight for a shower. He needed a moment to rid himself of as much of the fire as he could. It wasn’t until he was standing under the running water that he managed the deep breath he’d been longing for since before he ran into the stable. Like the water, his thoughts started running like they’d been held off for too long. He thought back to before the fire, when he’d been looking at his recipe. He wondered about fear. Fear of cooking…fear of cooking because of fire. Except there’d been no cooking in the stable, and he could still see the rosy hue of flames through the frosted bathroom window.

Maybe he’d gotten it all wrong. Maybe it wasn’t really about fear at all. A lot of things could be scary—crossing a narrow bridge, starting a new relationship, driving in heavy traffic. But those things didn’t freak him out the way cooking had done… still did. The question was why. Maybe cooking mattered more because it was the one thing in life he had ever excelled at. Or maybe he was just freaking out in general and taking it out on cooking.

He was facing his fears on a daily basis, but maybe he needed to start thinking of them as companions instead of obstacles. Dean had to face his fears to be a father. They were the price a parent paid for having a smart, cute kid like Wyatt. Mason had never paid anything for his culinary talents. He’d even taken them for granted. Maybe the fear, which was finally manageable and not able to stop him when it really counted, was the price he had to pay to continue doing what he loved. And he did love it—the passion was slowly starting to seep back.

Mason made a decision he should have made a long time before. He quickly dressed and went downstairs, where he found Dean and Wyatt, also freshly showered, cuddling on the couch. The sight of them made Mason’s heart constrict painfully. In his mind, he saw Wyatt inside the burning stable again, heard Dean’s agonized voice calling his name. He’d face a million fires for them both.

Dean looked up and saw him. With a smile he held out his hand, never letting go of Wyatt. Mason needed no prompting. He plopped down next to the two most important people in his world.

“Are you okay, Wyatt?” he asked.

Wyatt looked up, eyes somber and a little red, and nodded. “Are you mad at me?”

“Absolutely not. You were being very brave, saving Sweet Pea. But promise me something?”

Wyatt nodded again.

“Never go into a fire alone again. I’ll go with you.”

“I promise.”

“None of you will be going into anymore fires,” Dean said, his voice rough. “Under any circumstances.”

Mason smiled and leaned into Dean, reaching out to hold Wyatt’s hand. “No more fires.”

“Are you okay?” Dean asked him.

“Yeah. Except…no. I’ve been an idiot,” Mason said. “I’ve failed to realize something important. Like, what are you afraid of, Dean?”