Reckless (The Mason Family Series Book 3) Adriana Locke (best mystery novels of all time TXT) 📖

A bubble inflates and deflates in my stomach. With each breath I take, my anxiety rises and falls. It feels like something is wrong. Something is off. It’s an intuitive pressure in my body that I’ve learned to observe.

Why? Because it’s usually right.

I push forward and finish cleaning the counters. My brain switches into overdrive and dissects every conversation, every interaction, that Boone and I have had over the past couple of days.

He’s been tired, I know. Rosie hasn’t been sleeping much, and when she does, it’s not in her own bed. We take turns putting her back in her room. We sit with her, talk to her, try to be gentle but firm, but the line on how to deal with this is blurry. She’s in a new house. She’s just lost her mother. We have no idea what to do.

It’s probably just that things are going great. I’m so used to looking for the dark side of things. I need to learn to override this stuff. 

I toss the sponge in the sink and sigh.

Did Wade’s and his conversation about marriage have something to do with me? 

I force a swallow down my throat.

Surely, he doesn’t think that’s what I’m thinking. 

Would I marry Boone Mason? I mean, he’s all kinds of wonderful. But I haven’t been thinking actively about that. I haven’t really even considered it. It’s way too early to contemplate that far into the future when I’m still trying to get through today.

The sound of my phone breaks my concentration.

“Hello?” I say into the line.

“Hi.” Libby’s voice sounds better, stronger than it has lately. “How are you, toots?”

“Peachy. Cleaning up lunch. Rosie is finally starting to play in her room by herself.”

“Eh, yeah. That’s why I’m thankful I don’t have kids right now. No offense.”

“None taken.” I blow a strand of hair out of my face. “What’s happening in Vegas?”

“Good news from my attorney. Apparently, Ted’s counsel is a dumbass, and we should be able to, and I quote, steamroll him. That makes me happy.”

I laugh. “Me too.”

She crunches on something. The sound makes me realize I didn’t eat lunch. I made it. I served it to Rosie. And then I got busy trying to clean out the milk that got spilled in the fridge.

“So, are you getting … would I stay steamed or rolled as a sexual innuendo?” she asks. “Deep thoughts for today.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not sure I’d say either, but yes, I’m getting action.”

She cheers. “Woo-hoo! That’s my girl.”

“Oh, my gosh. You’re too much.” I shake my head. “You are living through me, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yes. The only action I’m getting is my mom’s cat rubbing against my legs.” She crunches another chip. “I think I’m in the acceptance stage of grief, by the way. I woke up this morning and saw the sun shine …”

“In three damn days,” I sing.

She laughs. “Well, more than that, but clearly, you get the picture.”

I head to the pantry to see if we have any chips.

Oh! And maybe some onion dip to go with it. 

I cringe. You are not stress eating. Stop it. 

“So, you wanna talk about it?” Libby asks.

“About what?”

“About whatever it is that has you preoccupied.”

I slouch my shoulders. “Nothing is wrong. Not at all. I just … I’m overthinking.”

“This is my surprised face. Do you see it?”

I grin sadly. “I worry that this is getting to be too much for Boone.”

“Girlfriend, I’m telling you, if this was too much for him, he’d find the nicest way to tell you. He wouldn’t make you guess. He’s not a jerk. Which, now that I think about it, makes me really kind of mad that I didn’t ditch Ted and try to hook up with him.”

I know she’s kidding. I even know that would’ve been in the past—before I met him.

Still, it gets under my skin, and I have to talk myself down from saying something catty.

“I know,” I say instead. “But I just … it’s probably fine. It’s all fine. I’m fine.”

She laughs. “You can’t just I’m fine yourself out of your feelings. That’s not healthy.”

“It’s healthier than spiraling down a case of the nerves.”

“Could you be pregnant?”

I gasp. “What? No. No, I couldn’t be.” I catch myself. “I mean, we’ve had sex, but he’s used a condom, and I … No. I’m not pregnant. Fuck you for even mentioning that right now. Geez.”

“I was just trying to help.”

“Well, you’re not.” I look at the ceiling and try to calm myself. Try to be rational. “He just made a comment to me about a plan he has. And then someone is coming over. Apparently, he and Wade were talking about the pitfalls of marriage today.”

“So, let me get this straight. You’re afraid he’s going to propose?”

My eyes nearly fall out of my head. “No, Lib. I’m afraid he’s going to have a plan to segue himself out of this. Like maybe he thinks this is too fast, and I’m thinking we’re forever, and he wants to find the nicest way to tell me. Just like you said.” I slap my forehead with my palm. “That has to be it.”

She falls quiet on the other side of the line. While it’s uncomfortable and I wish she’d just keep the conversation going so I don’t wallow in this misery, it’s better than the crunching.

My stomach twists. Nausea bubbles in my throat. I feel wildly out of control on an emotional level as reality pummels me.

That I know I’m right. That it was probably inevitable.

That now, because of my willingness to buy into a relationship with a man at a time when I was vulnerable, I’m going to have to try to shield Rosie from all of it too.

Dammit. 

“For what it’s worth,” Libby says, jolting me out of my daymare, “if I were you, I’d think that a proposal was much more likely than a breakup. But that’s me and my unbiased, clear vision speaking.”

I want her to be right. So