Chapter 103
Emily's POV
Morning came too early. I woke up with my brain already running through scenarios I didn't want to think about—what to do with Mason, how to explain him to Alex and Ethan, whether bringing home a traumatized stranger was help or just another mess I'd created.
I grabbed my phone and ordered breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, bacon. Enough for two people. Cooking wasn't really my thing anymore. I could manage basics if I had to, but I'd stopped pretending I enjoyed it. The kitchen stayed mostly empty except when Ethan or Alex came by and brought groceries. They'd stock the fridge, cook a few meals, then leave again. I'd gotten used to takeout and the coffee maker getting more use than the stove.
The food arrived twenty minutes later. I set the containers on the counter and went to knock on Mason's door.
"Mason? Breakfast is here."
Nothing.
I knocked again. "Come on. You need to eat."
More silence. Then finally: "I'm not hungry."
"I don't care. You're eating anyway." I kept my voice firm but not harsh. "Five minutes. Kitchen."
I heard movement. The door opened slowly and Mason stood there, still wearing Ethan's borrowed clothes. His hair was messy. His eyes were cautious.
He followed me to the kitchen and sat down when I pointed at a chair. I pushed food toward him and watched him pick at it like he wasn't sure it was real.
"Do you want to go home?" I asked.
He shook his head immediately. Hard.
"Okay." I took a breath. "What about coming to work with me? I manage a restaurant. You could stay in the office or help out or just hang around. Better than being here alone."
Another head shake. Faster this time.
"Fine. You stay here then." I pulled out my wallet and left three twenties on the table. "The address is on the fridge if you want to order food. There's cash in case you need it."
He stared at the money like it might bite him.
"Just take it," I said. "It's not a loan. You can eat if you get hungry."
His hand reached out slowly. He took the bills and shoved them in his pocket.
I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. My hand went to the deadbolt out of habit. The lock clicked into place.
I didn't think about it. Didn't register what I'd just done.
Work was the usual chaos. Inventory problems. Staff calling in sick. A minor crisis with the walk-in cooler. I handled it all on autopilot, but Mason's face kept appearing in the gaps between tasks. Those huge dark eyes. The way his hands had trembled taking the money.
I left work at six and stopped at the Thai place down the block. Pad thai, spring rolls, dumplings. Enough for two.
The hallway was quiet when I got back to my building. I was digging for my keys when I saw the delivery bag sitting outside my door.
My stomach dropped.
The bag was small. Grease-stained. Cold. I checked the receipt stapled to it.
12:47 PM.
Six hours ago.
"Shit."
I'd locked him in. The deadbolt only opened from the inside with a key. He'd been trapped in here all day with no way to get his food.
My stomach twisted. He'd had breakfast. Nothing since then. Sitting in here hungry because I'd locked the door without thinking.
I got my keys out fast and unlocked the door.
The apartment was silent. Too silent.
"Mason?" I called out. My voice came out sharper than I meant it to. "Mason, I'm sorry. The lock was automatic. I didn't think—"
Nothing.
I set both bags of food on the counter and walked down the hall. The study door was closed.
I knocked. "I brought dinner. Fresh food. Please come out."
Silence stretched. Then the lock clicked. The door opened.
Mason stood there looking at me like he'd spent the last six hours confirming every terrible thing he'd ever learned about trusting people.
He didn't say anything. Just walked past me to the hallway and picked up the old delivery bag. Brought it back to the kitchen.
"Mason, that food's been sitting there for hours." I tried to keep my voice level. "It's cold. I brought fresh stuff. Just eat what I—"
He ignored me. Opened the container. Old fried rice. Congealed and sad-looking.
"Let me throw that away." I reached for it.
He pulled it back. Fast. Defensive.
"Mason, that's been sitting out for all afternoon—"
He stood up. Container in hand. Started walking toward the study.
Something sharp twisted in my chest. Frustration mixed with helplessness mixed with anger I didn't know how to direct.
"I have a rule," I said. My voice came out harder than I meant. "No food in the study. You eat at the table. That's it."
He stopped. His back was to me but I saw his shoulders tense.
After a long moment, he turned around. Walked back to the table. Sat down.
He still wasn't looking at me. Just opened the container again and started eating that cold rice like it was the only option he had.
I stood there watching him and hating every second of it. This wasn't help. This was just me being controlling because I didn't know what else to do.
Then I noticed his face.
His cheeks were flushed. Not from anger or embarrassment. Something else.
"Mason." I moved closer. "Look at me."
He didn't.
I reached out and caught his wrist. His skin was burning.
"You're burning up." I pressed my palm to his forehead. Definitely fever. High. "How long have you felt like this?"
He pulled his hand back. "I'm fine."
Guilt hit me like a punch to the chest. He wasn't sick last night. Was this because I'd locked him in here all day with no food? I didn't know if that was even how fevers worked.
"You're not fine. You're sick." I grabbed my keys. "We're going to urgent care."
"No." His voice was flat. Final. "No hospitals. No doctors."
"Mason, you have a fever—"
"I said no." He stood up fast. Too fast. He swayed slightly and caught himself on the chair.
I watched him trying not to collapse and felt something crack in my chest.
"Fine." I put my keys down. "No hospital. But you're going to bed and I'm taking care of this."
He looked at me like I'd started speaking another language.
"Come on." I gestured toward the study. "You need to lie down before you fall down."
He hesitated. Then nodded once and let me guide him down the hall.
I got him to the bed and went to find medicine and water and whatever else people used when someone had a fever. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Ethan asking about my day.
I looked at Mason curled up on the bed looking small and vulnerable and sick.
Then I put my phone away and went to get a cold compress.