Chapter 85: Talking is over-rated.

Mason watched Hannah stride across the room and come to an abrupt stop in front of the windows. Dirt stained her khaki shorts and the white top, but she was alive. He was grateful for her quick thinking and fast feet. She lifted the lace edge of the curtain and peered out at the street. Night had descended in full force, swaddling the city in starlight.

What had he done wrong now?

Man, he excelled at fucking up.

He collected their to-go boxes and stored them in the fridge, giving Hannah a bit of space while he mulled over her sudden snappishness. Maybe it wasn't him at all. Maybe it was the stress of their situation. It was a demanding set of circumstances to be in, and lashing out at him could be her way of dealing with it all. He'd been in stranger crises with customers, but this was Hannah. Having her upset ate at him. He wanted to fix things. And he didn't know how without taking her away from here. An option she'd firmly squashed.