Page 86 of Mason

It’s best to brace for impact.

The second I pull the door open, Mia is standing there—arms crossed, her ice-blue eyes blazing up at me with a fury I know alltoo well. It’s the kind of anger that isn’t surface-level—it’s deep, threaded with something raw and untamed.

She looks like me when I was younger. The younger, angrier version of myself. When I didn’t know where to put all the fire burning inside me.

"You have some goddamn nerve, Mason Ironside.”

I lean against the frame, unfazed by the storm brewing in her. "Nice to see you too, kid."

Her nostrils flare. "Don’t‘kid’me.” She pushes past me and walks into the house without an invitation. “You were released five days ago! And did you think to come see me? No. I had to find out from someone else that you were even out! Do you know how humiliating that is?"

Her words slice through the air like a blade, but I take the hit. She’s right—I should’ve gone to her first. Should’ve made sure she knew from me, not from some secondhand source. That had been the intention all along, but then… then I met Shelby, and I got caught up in the nightmare that is David Eddy.

But she’s also wrong if she thinks I don’t care.

“I had every intention of coming to see you.”

“Don’t.” She points a finger at me, her voice shaking with frustration. “Don’t act like you give a damn, Mason. Why do I feel like I’m the only adult in this relationship? First, you get yourself thrown in jail. Then you get released and don’t bother to let me know. How…”

I exhale through my nose. “Mia?—”

“Don’t ‘Mia’ me,” she snaps, stepping forward, practically daring me to argue. “You owe me, Mason. If you’re going to be in my life, at least have the balls to man up and give a shit.”

My eyes flick past Mia, drawn to a shadow shifting in the doorway. A movement—hesitant, almost uncertain.

The second I see her, the air in my lungs turns sharp.

Shelby.

She’s standing there, frozen mid-step like she’s just stumbled into the middle of a battlefield—landmines beneath her feet, calculating the safest way to retreat. Her eyes are wide, startled, like she hadn’t expected to see anyone here. Like she’s already trying to figure out how to disappear before either of us can react.

Mia notices the shift in my focus immediately. She follows my gaze, her head tilting slightly as she assesses Shelby.

That sharp, calculating look settles into her expression—the kind that’s always been a little too damn observant for my liking.

Mia has a habit of seeing too much. Of digging into things that aren't her business until she finds answers no one wants to give. And right now, I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head—reading between the lines of Shelby’s hesitation, my tension, the silent war waging between us.

She angles her body slightly, half-blocking the exit, like she’s considering playing gatekeeper. Like she might stop Shelby if she tries to bolt.

And knowing Mia? She just might.

“Who the hell is this?” she asks, her tone sharp with suspicion. Maybe even a little jealousy.

Shelby steps forward slightly, but she’s not stupid—she knows this isn’t her battle. “I’m Shelby.” She offers a small smile, but there’s tension in her posture.

Mia eyes her, her expression unreadable. “Right. And you’re why he hasn’t been to see me?”

She turns to face me, incredulous.

Shelby hesitates, then shakes her head, confused.

I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. “Mia, don’t do this. This isn’t about Shelby.”

“Maybe not,” she says, her voice tight. “But it’s about you. And the fact that you keep running from things instead of facing them head on.”

Her words dig under my skin—sharper than I expect.

“Mia, listen?—”

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