What We've Become (My Kind Of Country Book 2) by M. Lynne Cunning

won’t—”
    Jay lunged forward, snatching the harmonica from the little boy’s hand, and threw it angrily back toward the hallway, the metal casing thumping hard against the drywall. Mason began to wail immediately, a flood of tears and cries for Katie erupting from him as he ran to her.
    “Christ, Jay!” She stared at him incredulously, Mason wrapped up tightly in her arms. “What’s gotten into you?” She stroked her son’s hair gently, whispering hushed shushing noises in between blinking back tears of her own.
    “Go check on your harmonica, okay, Mr. Mase? Take it into your room and I’ll bring dinner in there so we can watch Ninja Turtles and camp out on the bed, okay?” She pulled away from him to peer at his tear stained face through his bangs. A meek nod was all she got in response, and he ran down the hallway into the refuge of his room, without once looking back at Jay.
    “What the hell is wrong with you?” Katie turned to him, her face distorted in disbelief and anger. “Whatever it is, don’t you dare take it out on him!” She pointed toward Mason’s bedroom door.
    “Katie, I am not trying to make things work just so that Chad goddamn Kirkwood—”
    “If this is you trying ,” she motioned furiously between them, “then you’re not very good at it. What did you think was going to happen? Purposely throwing Chad back into my life like that? This is all on you, Jay, not him!”
    “ Our life! I was proving a damn point! You’re with me, not him! And I wanted him to damn well know it!”
    “You’re an idiot,” Katie blurted out. “A jealous, raging idiot, with no concern for anyone but yourself and your stupid pride.” The thought flitted through her mind that she, too, was being idiotic, allowing herself and Mason to continually endure this kind of living arrangement purely for the sake of ‘trying’ to make something work that very obviously wasn’t. She silently pulled two plates from the cupboard and began to dish out portions onto each of them. Jay could dish out his own. She could hear him pacing on the other side of the kitchen island but didn’t turn around.
    “You’ll have to go in and apologize to Mason. It’ll be a long few days together while I’m at the farm if you don’t.” She tried to even out her tone in hopes of dissipating the anger and tension between them.
    “You need to just sell that damn place, Katie. And let go of everything associated with it. Maybe, then, we would actually have a fighting chance.” Jay, however, didn’t seem the least bit interested in lessening the animosity. She knew he was referring to Chad as the thing ‘associated with’ the farm, but she refused to take the bait.
    “I’m not selling it, Jay. We’ve been through this. It was my Dad’s home—”
    “And your father is dead, Katie. Dead.”
    She turned sharply, fixing her glare on him. She swallowed hard but kept her face stone-like, the steam rising steadily from the two dishes she held. She saw no remorse for his words or his actions. She left him standing alone in the kitchen nook as she trudged down the hall to Mason’s bedroom, refusing to even dignify his ruthless, biting words with an answer.
    ***
    Katie should have been tired. After a prolonged goodbye to Mason (he had begun to cry as soon as she’d slammed the trunk lid down on her luggage bag), a curt, tense exchange with Jay about the things he needed to remember with regard to Mason’s care, more than a few moments of second guessing her decision to leave Mason alone with him at all, then a six hour flight with a delayed stopover, a long lineup while she waited to pick up her rental car, and a struggle getting a wood fire lit once she finally did make it to the farm, Katie knew she should have been burnt out and ready for sleep. She and Mason had just been talking, only a few days ago, about missing the comfy old double bed they’d spent numerous Saturday mornings cuddled up in together, planning out their