Page 69 of Mason

Clay Monroe is a good man. A better man than me. He’s someone who holds himself to a standard, someone who’s spent his life protecting the people he loves. And that means when he looks at me, he’s going to see exactly what I am.

Not good enough.

Before I can respond, Shelby presses up onto her toes, brushing her lips against mine in a kiss so soft, so completely at odds with the way we usually are, that it nearly undoes me.

And just like that, I know.

I know I’m in deeper than I ever intended.

The car swingsaround the circular driveway, the tires crunching over gravel, and rolls to a slow stop at the base of the front steps. The second the engine cuts off, the front door flies open, and Shelby is already moving.

She doesn’t wait.

She’s bounding down the stairs before the doors even unlock, throwing herself into Clay’s arms with all the force of a woman desperate to cling to something that still feels whole. He catches her effortlessly, his arms wrapping around her like they were made for this moment, like she’s the only thing in the world that matters.

For a second, I see it.

Not just relief, but unwavering loyalty.

Shelby might be a few years older, but Clay?He’s the protector.Always has been. He’s the one who carries the weight of responsibility, the one who keeps her shielded from the worst of the world, the one who probably warned her a thousand times over to stay the hell away from men like me.

And yet, here we are.

He lifts her clean off her feet, twirling her effortlessly, and when he sets her back down, he presses a quick kiss to her forehead.

It hasn’t even been that long since they last saw each other—a couple of weeks, at most—but you’d think it has been years by the way they cling to each other. Like the world has been pulling them apart longer than they remember, and now they’re finally in the same place again.

I fall back, giving them their space as they move toward the house, arms draped over each other’s shoulders, speaking in hushed tones only they understand.

I don’t belong in this moment. It’s a moment for the siblings, a reunion to end the shared absence they’ve been subjected to.

Jayson and I follow at a more measured pace, neither of us in a rush to interrupt them. Instead, we move through the house, exiting through the back sliding doors, stepping out onto the pool deck where the air is thick with summer heat. The water glows an eerie blue under the dim lights, casting rippling shadows across the pavement, but my focus isn’t on the pool.

It’s on Jayson.

I haven’t had much of a chance to spend real time with him since all this started. He’s been handling things on my behalf, moving in the background, making sure everything is handled. And if there’s one thing about Jayson, it’s that he doesn’t miss details.

I glance over at him, watching as he keeps his gaze trained on the glass doors, watching the siblings inside.

I cut straight to business. There’s no time to be wasted.

“Everything in place for the extraction?”

Jayson’s eyes flick back to me. “You don’t even have to ask.”

And he’s right. I don’t.

Jayson is meticulous, methodical in a way that makes him irreplaceable. I can count the number of times he’s made a mistake on one hand—and even then, the slip-ups weren’t anything that cost us.

Still, I nod. “Good. Glad we got Clay out before that place burns to the ground.”

He exhales sharply, crossing his arms, watching me closely. He’s not the type to pry, but he’s observant as hell—he’s been clocking me since we stepped outside. Watching the way my jaw tenses, the way my hands curl into fists even when I think I’m relaxed.

His gaze flicks back to the house, to Shelby and Clay inside, before returning to me.

He knows.

He knows I care too much.

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