Letting Hearts Heal Read Free Page B

exactly what’s going on. He just knows that his life has been turned upside down.”
    Dean realized that Mason was probably right. The first night, Wyatt had been inconsolable, crying his little heart out until he fell into exhausted sleep. Dean had only briefly entertained the thought that it was because Wyatt was grieving, but he dismissed it because he thought Wyatt was too young to understand. Now he was pretty sure he’d been dead wrong, and his heart ached for his son. He hadn’t been as considerate as he could—and should—have been.
    “See? I’m a horrible father.”
    “Nah, just an inexperienced one. Even if you’d known Wyatt from birth, there’s no way you’d have been an expert after only four weeks, anyway. Cut yourself a little slack.”
    Dean relaxed a little. Maybe Mason was right. “How did you become such a parenting expert?”
    Mason snorted. “I’m no expert. I just know what a bad father is, and you’re not it.”
    Knowing how Mason had been raised, Dean just nodded. Even though Dean had never known his mom because she passed away when he was just a baby, he knew he’d had a much better childhood than Mason. Mason had what Dean always dreamed of as a kid—a mom, a dad, and siblings. But in Mason’s family, the Bible ruled along with violence. Dean knew he’d been lucky to have a dad who only succumbed to the temptation of whiskey late in life.
    Mason yawned, and Dean happily let go of his train of thought. “Okay, I’m done boring you for tonight. I trust you can find your bedroom before falling asleep.”
    “I’ll manage. Thanks again for letting me stay, Dean.”
    “Don’t mention it. Good night.”
     
     
    “G OOD NIGHT .” M ASON didn’t object even though he wasn’t on the verge of falling asleep, only drowsy from the warmth in the house. Going to bed early sure as hell beat having to talk about stuff he’d much rather suppress until it vanished in a cloud of dust. A man could dream, anyway.
    The guest bedroom was much nicer than any bedroom Mason had ever called his own. And the bed was a little piece of heaven that he couldn’t wait to try out. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in too long, and it took no time for him to drift off.
    When Mason woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was look out the window. Everything was blanketed in snow, and the flakes were still flying. In the daylight the ranch looked achingly familiar. At one time it had meant freedom and happiness when all other parts of his life had been dragging him down and making him miserable. He never liked school. He was a little bit dyslexic and brought up so much stricter than the other kids. And life at home wasn’t any better. Only among the horses and fresh air at the Walker ranch had Mason ever felt like his true self—until he’d been forced away by its owner. It still hurt to think about. If he could have shoved it in old Mr. Walker’s face that he was back on the ranch, he would have.
    Mason took advantage of the available shower, then brought his laundry with him downstairs, certain that Dean wouldn’t mind him using the washing machine.
    The house was quiet, but since its two residents weren’t big noisemakers, that told Mason nothing. Finding the kitchen empty, he went straight to the basement to take care of his laundry. Then he went to search for his host and minihost.
    All he found was an empty house, so he ended up back in the kitchen, where he discovered hot coffee and a note. Dean was working and Wyatt was apparently tagging along. Mason sat down and enjoyed the coffee. He studied the kitchen and considered breakfast. Nothing that required any kind of cooking. Cereal, maybe. A house with a kid would have cereal. Not feeling the least bit guilty at making himself completely at home, he found the cereal in a cupboard and the milk in the refrigerator. Mason couldn’t remember a more successful morning in ages.
    The phone rang while he was eating. He wasn’t a fan