Page 105 of Twisted Trails
Leaning his hip against the table, he crosses his ankles and arms like he’s got all day. He’s in all black, as usual, and somehow it still catches me off guard how fucking good he looks in it, which makes me probably check him out for a beat too long.
“If you don’t move, we’re gonna miss the show,” Mason mutters, but I catch the amusement in his tone.
I roll my eyes, cheeks heating as I grab a sock from the small storage bin and head toward the tiny bathroom cubby at the back of the bus. I brush my teeth, splash cold water on my face, put on some deodorant, and run my fingers through my hair until it looks slightly less like a bird’s nest. It helps. Not enough, but a little.
Afterward, I tuck the sock where it needs to be in my boxers, then step out into the main space again. I grab my binder from the overhead shelf, then give Mason my back when I pull my shirt over my head. No way I’m going into that bathroom again. It’s too cramped, the air too damp.
I fumble with the small hooks on each side of my ribs, my left hand straining to keep the tension with only three fingers, while my right hand tries to close each one. I get one, then lose it trying to do the second. Over and over.
I hear his boots before I feel him at my back. “Can I?” His voice is hesitant.
Yes, anything,my body seems to answer, becauseI nod without thought and let go, letting the ends fall to my side. He takes them without touching my skin. Doesn’t even brush against me as he works, just hooks the clasps and smooths the fabric into place, way softer with it all than I would’ve been.
“There.”
Goose bumps rise along my spine like a wave, and his knuckles graze along them, then travel over to my ribs and down my sides. The touch is light, almost accidental, but then his finger trails lower, over the scars at my hip.
Fuck, I forgot about them.
“You know, I was so worried for you back then. I wondered how you were doing. More often than I probably should’ve.”
“You were?” I look at him over my shoulder, searching his face. “We never even talked.”
He shakes his head, but doesn’t meet my eyes, almost seeming self-conscious. “Sorry about that. I was shy back then. You probably didn’t notice, but I watched you a lot.”
“I watched you too.”
His answering smile is a little crooked. “Told myself if Iever got on your team, I’d finally kick my own ass and say hello or… more.”
I reach back and take his hand, squeezing it. “Hello.”
His smirk deepens, eyes sparking as he squeezes back. “Hello,Alaina Crews.”
A spark shoots straight through me, but he gives me a tug, so I don’t dwell on it long.
“Come on. Let’s go.”
“Can I go like this?” I ask after I pull on one of my oversized T-shirts, eyeing my loose shorts and bare knees.
“Sure.”
As I snag my pill organizer off the shelf, Mason watches me, quieter for a moment.
I glance at him, then down at the pills before swallowing them dry. “I take the smallest dose that still works. I’m careful.”
He didn’t ask, but I still want to reassure him, and he gives me a grateful nod before we walk toward the front of the bus.
He pauses at the door. “You ready?”
He’s still holding my hand, and he’s going to have to let go before we walk out.
I take a breath, straighten my spine, and hold back a wince at feeling the binder again. Then I drop my voice to the low tone I use with everyone outside our inner circle. “Ready.”
Mason laughs. “Fuck. I have no idea how I didn’t see right through your cover. Yourmanvoice isso damn bad.”
“No, it’s not,” I say, dropping it even lower just to mess with him.
He groans. “Okay, Darth Vader. Calm down.”
