Chapter 18: Chapter 18

JAMIE

Everything felt different. The house looked the same, but the feeling of being back was different from before we left for Napa. The artwork was still hanging on the walls, the large sofa with its comfy throw pillows was still there, and the kitchen still smelled of vanilla and coffee beans.

It was perfect, just like it always had been. But something had shifted, a subtle change in the atmosphere. It wasn’t the house that had changed—it was me.

A smile spread across my face. The heavy burden of unspoken tension, the suffocating cloud of doubt, had finally lifted. Mason and I were in a good place now…and I hoped it would stay that way.

Mason’s voice sliced through the quiet afternoon. His shadow loomed over my wheelchair as he stood behind me.

“What’s up?”

I turned my head to face him, a slow, easy smile spreading across my lips.

“Nothing much,” I replied softly. “Just taking it all in. I’ve missed being here.”

Mason’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“Is that why you wanted to come home…because you missed the house? I don’t get it. We were having fun, weren’t we? I thought we were going to stay a couple more weeks.”

I met his gaze, my smile fading slightly.

“I know. But you told me before we left, that I could come home at any time, no questions asked,” I reminded him gently. “Remember?”

“I remember,” he replied, his voice a low rumble as he filled the kitchen with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. “Do you want one?”

I smiled, my gaze drawn to the backyard where Penelope was lost in her own world, playing with her dolls in her miniature house.

“Sure,” I replied, steering my wheelchair toward the kitchen. “I should probably check in on my dad tomorrow. It’s been a while.”

Mason nodded, his expression thoughtful.

“Ezra will take you. You could take Penelope. I think she’s been missing him.”

A plan began to form in my head. Spending time with my dad would be good, it had been a while, and we had a lot to catch up on. Penelope and I could have some bonding time too.

“Sure, we can make a day of it,” I said, excitement building. “What about you? You want to come with us?”

Mason shook his head. Disappointment crossed his face.

“I can’t, I have to take care of some things at the office.”

“Next time maybe,” I replied, and stood up from my wheelchair. I pulled out a stool and sat down, the warm ceramic of the coffee cup cradled comfortably in my hands. I gazed down at the frothy brown liquid, the steam rising gently to meet my face.

I felt myself smile. “This looks so good,” I murmured.

Mason cleared his throat. His voice broke through my thoughts as I sipped my coffee.

“I’ve been thinking about our living situation. Now that we’re home, it makes no sense to me you sleeping down here, when we’ve been sharing a bed while we were away…”

His words were a distant echo as my phone buzzed with an incoming message. I picked it up, my heart pounding with anticipation once I saw it was from Carmen.

Carmen

Are you home? I want to see you.

A wave of confusion washed over me. Months had passed since I’d woken from my coma. Why now? What did she want? Our relationship had been shattered, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to pick up the pieces.

Mason’s voice pulled me back to the present.

“Jamie… Did you hear what I said?”

I shook my head, trying to focus.

“I’m sorry, it was just a text from my dad,” I said, placing my phone on the counter and forcing a smile. “What were you saying?”

He nodded understandingly.

“I, um…asked if you wanted to move into my room. All your old things are there from before, the bathroom is bigger and the bed is a queen. It makes more sense,” he said.

I considered his proposal, my mind racing. On one hand, the idea of sharing a room with Mason was appealing. The intimacy, the comfort of having him so close. But on the other, my physical limitations were a stark reality. The thought of navigating the stairs every day, even with assistance, was daunting.

I glanced up at him, struggling to find the right words.

“Oh, okay!” I finally said with a shy smile. “But what about me climbing those stairs? I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

Mason’s reply was quick, as if he was stating the obvious.

“I can carry you,” he said, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “You’re as light as a feather. It’s no big deal.”

A mischievous grin spread across my face. The thought of him carrying me up the stairs every night was undeniably appealing. It felt like a scene straight out of a romance movie.

“Hmm, I do like the idea of you carrying me to bed every evening,” I teased. “Looks like I’ll be busy packing for the rest of the day. So, you’re on dinner duty.”

Mason’s lips curled into a matching grin.

“Is that so?” he retorted playfully. “Unless you want toast for dinner, how about we order in? I’ll ask Rita to grab some groceries tomorrow.”

My stomach growled at the mention of food.

“Chinese sounds good. I’m in the mood for some vegetable dumplings,” I said. My mouth was already watering at the thought.

Mason nodded in agreement.

“Chinese it is,” he said with a satisfied smile.

Dinner was a peaceful affair, the rich scent of Chinese takeout wafting through the living room. After a long day, Penelope was tucked into bed, her soft snores echoing down the hallway. With the house finally quiet, I found myself alone in Mason’s bedroom, a space I had never explored before.

It wasn’t what I had expected. The walls were a crisp, clean white, providing a perfect canvas for the artwork that adorned them. A large, flat-screen television was mounted on one wall, its sleek design blending seamlessly into the room.

The bed, nestled against the far wall, was a luxurious haven of gray bedding, accented by plush white pillows and a matching bedspread. The rest of the furniture—a pair of nightstands, a dresser, and a fancy ottoman at the foot of the bed—were also in muted shades of gray, creating a soothing atmosphere.

Two doorways were situated at the foot of the bed. One led to the master bathroom. The other, I assumed, opened into a generously sized closet.

And I wasn’t mistaken. My hunch about the second door was confirmed as Mason strode purposefully toward it, the soft click of the handle echoing in the quiet room. The door swung open, revealing a world of pristine white luxury.

He undressed with practiced ease, his movements graceful against the stark backdrop of the room. The interior was a flawless white. Rows of meticulously pressed suits and crisp shirts hung on gleaming chrome rails, a testament to a life of refined taste.

A perfectly round, plush white futon sat in the center of the closet, its soft curves contrasting sharply with the rigid lines of the surrounding clothes racks. The closets themselves were pristine white structures, their interiors illuminated by a soft, concealed light. Beneath it all was a thick, white carpet, inviting bare feet to sink into its luxurious depths.

“Come here, Jamie.” His voice echoed through the open doorway, pulling my attention from his impressive form. With the help of my walking stick, I carefully set aside my clothes and made my way toward him.

Stepping into the room, I was taken aback by the sheer beauty of the space. It was even more breathtaking up close. Every detail was perfection, from the soft, white carpet to the minimalist elegance of the furniture.

“Do you like it?” Mason’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

“Of course, it’s amazing,” I replied in genuine awe. “It’s like a little piece of heaven. I’ve seen closets like this…but only in magazines.”

He chuckled, a low, amused sound that echoed through the pristine space. “Well, this is the closet you envisioned when I bought this place. You wanted everything white, with enough space for shoes, and enough drawers for your jewelry.” He gestured toward a series of sleek, white drawers that lined the opposite cabinet.

Intrigued, I approached the drawers and tentatively pulled one out. It slid open effortlessly, revealing a velvet-lined interior filled with pieces of jewelry. Necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and rings of every shape and size were arranged with meticulous care. Each piece seemed to shimmer, as if it had been chosen with the utmost love and attention.

My eyes widened in disbelief. “Are these mine?” I asked.

“Your mom gave me your stuff after your accident. I kept them here, hoping you’d wake up and find a piece of home waiting for you,” Mason said gently.

A warm feeling spread through me as I looked at him, my heart swelling with gratitude. “Did you always have faith that I would wake up?” I asked.

“I held onto hope,” he answered.

My gaze swept over the glittering array of jewelry in front of me. Some pieces were familiar, stirring up a rush of memories. But most of the jewelry was new to me, their sparkle and elegance suggesting a price tag I couldn’t afford.

“Could you do me a favor and grab the jewelry box from the bed?” I asked, pointing toward the small silver box nestled among a pile of clothes.

Mason nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. He moved toward the bed, his long strides closing the distance quickly. He picked up the slightly tarnished silver box, its lid decorated with intricate floral designs.

He came back to me, offering the box. As I took it from him, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. This box held countless memories, secrets, and treasures. It was a piece of my past, a part I was desperately trying to recall.

With careful fingers, I lifted each piece from the box, placing them gently into the soft velvet lining of the drawer. It was a comforting ritual, a way to reconnect with a part of myself I had forgotten.

As the box emptied, a sense of unease crept in. My heart pounded as I reached for the final few pieces. A cold dread washed over me when I realized one was missing.

“My locket…,” I whispered, my voice trembling. It wasn’t there. Panic surged through me as I stood up, my walking stick tapping against the wooden floor. Desperation fueled my search of the bed, the floor, even the corners of the room. My mind raced, replaying the last time I had seen the locket.

Mason appeared in the doorway, worried.

“What does it look like?” he asked.

“It’s a heart-shaped silver necklace,” I explained. “There are diamonds on the front, and inside, there are pictures of my mom and me. I know it was in here.” A lump formed in my throat as I fought back tears.

Mason nodded, his eyes scanning the room.

“I’ll go check downstairs,” he said. “Maybe you missed it in your room when you were packing.”

He left the room, and I was alone with my despair. I searched under the bed, in the closet, and through the boxes I had brought upstairs. Nothing. The more I searched, the more hopeless I felt.

When Mason returned, his face was etched with disappointment. He shook his head and my heart sank.

“You didn’t bring it with you when you went away?” he asked.

I shook my head, tears welling in my eyes. “No,” I managed to whisper. “I didn’t want to risk losing it, so I left it in the jewelry box in my room. My dad gave it to me when I woke up from my coma. It was a gift from my mom. There’s a picture of us inside… It’s irreplaceable.”

The weight of the loss was crushing. The locket was more than just a piece of jewelry. It was a tangible connection to my mother. And now, it was gone.

Mason rubbed his temples, his brows furrowed in concentration. His eyes, usually so full of warmth and affection, were now clouded with worry.

“Jamie, there’s something I need to tell you,” he began, his voice low and hesitant.

Alarm bells rang in my head. Something was wrong, and it was clear by the look on his face that whatever it was, it was serious. I sat up straighter, my heart pounding in my chest.

“What is it?” I asked.

Mason hesitated, his eyes avoiding mine. “Someone broke into the house while we were away. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and ominous. My mind raced, trying to comprehend the implications of his statement. A break-in? A wave of fear washed over me, replacing the despair I felt moments ago.

“Someone broke in here?” I croaked out, my voice trembling. “How?”

Mason raked his fingers through his hair.

“I’m not sure,” he confessed. “They might have scaled a wall, but the security cameras didn’t catch anything. The alarms didn’t go off either. It was only when the security team was doing their rounds that they noticed something was off.”

A sickening wave of dread washed over me.

“What were they after?” I managed to ask.

Mason just shook his head.

“I can’t say for sure. Maybe they knew the place was empty and just wanted to wreak havoc. The place was a mess—I had to bring in a crew to replace everything.”

A horrifying thought struck me.

My heart pounded against my ribcage as I voiced the question that had been forming in my mind.

“You think they took my necklace, don’t you?”

Mason let out a deep breath. His eyes met mine.

“Or maybe you just misplaced it,” he suggested, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “It might still turn up.”

I managed a smile, a fragile facade for the despair that was swallowing me whole.

I wanted to believe him, to hold onto the hope that my mother’s last gift to me was merely lost, not stolen.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

My locket was gone forever, a casualty of a cruel and heartless act.