Page 27 of Man of Honor

But Mason didn’t drink. He avoided anything that messed with his perfect self-control.

Silas raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t seem surprised.He just jerked his head toward the storage room, the same one Ivy said he’d let her use when she had nowhere else to go.“Room’s free if you need it,” he said, casual as ever.“Rough night?”

Mason groaned, tugging off his silk tie and stuffing it into his pocket as he shuffled over to the bar.His steps were slow and heavy, like he had weights strapped to his ankles.“Rough few days,” he muttered in a voice like gravel.

I studied him carefully, more than a little surprised to see him and Silas so familiar.Out of all my brothers, Mason was the straight arrow.These days, anyway. Once, when we were younger, he was the wild card who taught me to hotwire cars, but that all changed after Ben went to prison.Now, Mason was an attorney with the state prosecutor's office.His universe was about rules and power lunches, completely different from anything men like Silas and I knew.

“You look like hell,” I said bluntly.

He shot me a crooked grin that didn’t reach his eyes.“Likewise. I thought I told you to stay out of trouble?”

“I have,” I said, shooting for innocent—and missing.

Mason raised an eyebrow, giving me a look of weary, knowing amusement.“That’s not what Gideon says.”

I dropped my gaze and picked at the label on my beer bottle.“Gideon got mouthy,” I muttered.

“He always does.” Mason chuckled, accepting the large glass of water Silas slid across the bar.He drained the glass, throatbobbing, gulping like a man who’d just crawled out of the desert.When he’d finished, he set the empty glass down with a gasp and added, “Your job is to shut up and listen to him, just like the rest of us.”

“I don’t remember ever agreeing to that,” I said with a smirk.

He barked out a laugh. “None of us did.It just happened after we got tired of being wrong all the time.”

“Eat something,” Silas interrupted, shoving a banana into Mason’s hand.Mason hated bananas, but he gnawed through the fruit with the single-minded displeasure of a man who knew he needed fuel.Silas waited until he’d choked down a few bites before asking, “How’s Ben?”

“How do you think he is?” Mason shot back acidly.

Silas didn’t flinch; he just reached under the counter, grabbed a knife and plate, and started slicing up some andouille sausage, cool as a cucumber.I had to give him credit—his patience ran deep.Not sure I’d have kept my chill if that attitude was directed at me.

“You didn’t say you were visiting the prison,” I said, frowning.“I’d have gone with you.”

Mason shrugged, looking even more wrung out now that he’d finally eaten something.“Wouldn’t have made a difference.He refused to see me again. Ever since his appeal got shot down, the only one he’ll see is Gideon.”

“Then why do you keep going?”

He stared down at the half-eaten banana in his hand as if he’d forgotten why it was there.After a beat, he took another bite andmumbled, “They’re squeezing him hard.Least I can do is make sure he knows he’s not alone.”

“Eat,” Silas ordered gruffly, sliding a plate of cheese and smoked sausage in front of him.The kind of heavy, salty food that could keep a man grounded when he looked like he was ready to dry up and float away.“Then get some sleep.”

Mason’s lips twitched into a tired half-smile as he reached for the plate.“Trying to fatten me up?"

A grin tugged up the corner of Silas’s mouth.“You could use it. You eat like a bird, Counselor.”

This time, Mason’s smile actually hit his eyes.

I glanced between them, confused as hell.Mason wasn't the type to be caught dead unwinding in a grimy bar with peeling paint and cigarette burns covering the tables.But I guess it made sense in a weird way.This was one place no one would look for him, where he didn’t need to have all the answers.He could let go, just a little, and let Silas’s calm presence do the heavy lifting for a change.

Mason chewed in silence for a few minutes before his shoulders finally began to droop.Silas clamped a huge, meaty hand on the back of his neck and steered him toward the back room.“Get your beauty sleep,” he ordered, not unkindly.“Bed’s still there, but no fancy turn-down service.”

“I’ll let it slide,” Mason mumbled, swaying on his feet, “But I expect a mint on my pillow when I wake up.”

“Best I can do is a bowl of cereal and a dirty spoon.”

“Sold.” His lips were twitching in a half-smile when he finally glanced at me.“Try not to make any more messes for me to clean up, little brother.”

“No promises,” I shot back, but I don’t think he heard me.The door was already shutting behind him with a soft click.

Silas cleared his throat and picked up the empty glass Mason had left behind, washing it slowly, like he was somewhere else in his head.“Kid’s been running on fumes for a long time,” he said, shaking his head.

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