Page 10 of Mason
It’s as I’m doing this I realize there are eyes on me. I’m not alone, like I almost always am at this hour while the rest of the brotherhood sleeps.
Lennon stands in the doorway. From her expression, I doubt she thought she’d encounter anyone else up at this hour. Not a bad time to take a little tour, actually.
There’s a certain exchange here, a curiosity as we study each other. My eyes roam, and I wonder how Duke never once mentioned that his stepsister is a total smokeshow. Considering it’s like six in the morning, she looks damn good, especially after what transpired less than two hours ago. Her face is free of makeup, long hair swept on top of her head and secured with a pen. My brow furrows for a moment at the odd hair accessory, but then my eyes continue on their downward path, taking in the well-worn T-shirt that readsGirls rule, boys droolin bold lettering across her chest—kinda funny considering how she confronted the brotherhood last night—and joggers that hit mid-calf. She’s barefoot again, and maybe I’ve been too distracted by other details, but her toes are painted a mint-green color, like the mint chocolate chip ice cream I keep in the freezer.
My brain does a hard left, and images from last night flash through my mind, how she’d had the guts to yank Duke into the pool. And then she’d taken things up a notch, tearing off her sopping-wet shirt and jogging around and around and around the house in nothing but her shorts and a lacy scrap of material that just barely held her tits. I’d watched the entire time. All ten laps. Fuckin’ sue me.
But still, I haven’t forgotten for a goddamn second how I found her and Mason out on the balcony or how she’d felt shaking and confused in my arms. I don’t have the full picture of what happened out there, and it’s possible neither of them were coherent enough to explain it either.
I blink a few times, unsure how long I’ve been standing here with these weights in my hands, not doing a single rep. Only staring. At her.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to break your concentration.” She offers me a tight smile, tilting her chin toward me and the weights I hold with a death grip.
I shrug, grunting a bit as I restart my reps. “No big deal.”
She wets her lips. “Um. Do you mind if I sit in here while you work out?” She gestures to one of the weight benches nearby.
My eyes flick to hers. “Your call.”
She watches me execute a few more flawless reps, then switch and use the other leg as the starting leg. “You’re talkative this morning.”
I lift one brow, eyeing her, and can come up with nothing but the truth. “I don’t know you.” And I’m working out. I can’t say I’ve ever willingly had a conversation with anyone while I’m trying to concentrate on my form.
“I introduced myself yesterday.” She wrinkles her nose. “I’m Lennon.”
And there’s something about the playful quality of her voice that breaks through my steel-like composure. But still, I can’t help but put her in her place, trying really fucking hard to remember my promise to Duke to help him with her. Huffing out a dry laugh, I shake my head. “So you said, Little Gazelle.”
It’s a not-so-subtle reminder that she can run, but I’ll catch her. Every. Fucking. Time. She presses her lips together and rolls her eyes. “Okay. Look, you can be standoffish and grumpy this morning. It’s whatever. But since I found you, I figured I’d say thank you for calming me down on the balcony.”
Shit.She’s right, I’m being… well, a bear.
“It’s fine. I’ll go.”
Frustration burns through me in equal measure with the worry about how to maintain Mason’s trust yet talk to Lennon about what happened between them. I still have plenty of questions, but he’s my friend and I don’t want to fuck this up. It seems significant. “Wait,” I grit out, lobbing the request at her back as she gets to the doorway.
She stops, turning on her heel. Her brows lift when her eyes meet my exasperated ones across the gym.
“Sit back down. You can stay. I’m just… I wouldn’t feel right discussing anything before I’ve had a chance to speak to Mason this morning.”
“Bro code.” She rolls her eyes again.
“Don’t fucking roll your eyes at me.” I blow out a hard breath. “But you’re welcome. And yeah. Bro code is a real thing.”
She pauses to think about what I’ve said for a moment, then comes back in to reclaim her seat. “Okay, I guess I can handle that.” She gestures toward me with one hand as I begin calf raises. “Lemme guess.” She taps a finger to her lips, eyeing me carefully. “I think either football or rugby, but I’ll go with football.”
“Yep.” I breathe steadily as I lift up onto my toes then lower my heels just below the edge of the step, feeling the burn throughout my lower legs. She’s quiet for several minutes, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. She watches me, and I go about my business. I do wonder what happened last night. I want to ask. But I really can’t without expecting her to fire questions right back at me.
Reps completed, I set the weights back on the rack, then go down onto all fours on one of the mats. Extending one leg straight back, I slowly and methodically lift it straight up toward the ceiling, clenching my glute hard at the top of the motion.
“What position do you play?”
I turn my head, grimacing through the exercise. “Tight end.”
There’s no response at first, but when I glance up, she’s covered her mouth with a hand, trying to hide her laugh.
A brief smile splits my face as I pause in working out mytight endto shake my head at her. “Bad girl,” I grit out. “Bad fuckin’ girl.”
She lifts her hands with a shrug. “Not me. I can’t help it if I happened to ask the tight end what position he plays just as he’s working on his tight end.”
