Page 30 of Mason
BEAR
“Were you with Lennon just now?”His posture rigid, Duke’s eyes are an ice-blue blaze, and they’re pinned on me as he steps onto the landing. He’s pissed off, lost, and confused all in one fun package. His usually well-groomed blond hair stands on end like he’s been putting his hands through it.
He is frustration personified.
“Yeah, I was. Dropped off your box of clothes with her. She said she didn’t want them, by the way, but I left them there anyway, in case she changes her mind.”
He stops as I reach him, and I could continue on past, but there’s something in his eyes that makes me pause. With a shrug, and a glance back over my shoulder to make sure no one is listening, I gesture that he should speak.
“You know I didn’t mean to imply that she was a charity case. I say a lot of shit sometimes that I don’t mean, just to get under her skin. But that’s truly not what I was getting at today.” He inhales sharply, planting his hands on his hips before continuing. “We all saw how little she showed up with, and I thought it would be like…”
I snort, my brows lifting because I can’t believe he’s being serious right now. “Like a brotherly thing to do?” I see right through him. He’s attempting—in vain—to convince himself that he can think of Lennon as his stepsister. I slowly shake my head, semi-amused at his supposed intentions. I’d point out the flaw in the logic he’s spun inside his mind, but it’s not my job to make him see that he’ll never look at her that way.
“Fuck. I don’t know.” His jaw clenches. “Maybe?”
I heave out a sigh. “She didn’t want to open the box. That’s all I can tell you. Maybe she’ll do it in the privacy of her room where there aren’t—I don’t know—nearly a dozen eyeballs on her. Did you stop to think of how she’d feel with you dropping that in her lap in front of everyone?”
To his credit his face goes a little pale. He nods, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Yeah. Okay. I guess I fucked it up.”
I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip. “Yeah, you did.” I push past him, descending the stairs at a quick pace.
He follows behind me. “What else did you talk about?”
“I asked her a little bit about the sleepwalking stuff. That’s all. Figured it might be useful to know what we’re dealing with. She mentioned she has nightmares, too.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Duke grabs my arm, roughly yanking me to a stop. “That’s it?”
I know damn well he’d like to know what else happened in there, maybe assumes that we were doingotherthings, but— “Duke, you can’t ask me to help you keep an eye out for her, and then argue when I do exactly that.”
“And if that lands you in her bed, that’s cool, right?” One blond, pissed-off brow arches high on his forehead.
I smirk, unable to resist messing with him just a bit. “You know what? Green is not your color. If you go clothes shopping again anytime soon, forget anything in that particular hue, because it does not look good on you.” I huff out a laugh at the surprised look on his face.
He grinds out under his breath. “I’m not fuckin’ jealous.”
“Whatever man. You’re ridiculously fucked in the head about this entire situation. I’m heading down to the gym. Why don’t you come with me? If it’ll make you feel any better, you can throw some fucking punches. But my opinion won’t change.”
He heaves out a breath, eyeing me. “Noted.”
A minute later, I push the door to the home gym open and walk through it, then wait as he follows, firmly shutting the door behind us. I wet my lips, toeing out of my shoes, then reaching back with one hand to pull off my shirt in one swift movement.
His eyes bore into mine, his irritation with me growing by the second as the muscle in his jaw twitches out of control. Every agitated movement makes me even more aware of his state of mind—he briskly pops the button through the hole on his jeans and rips down the zipper. He divests himself of most everything else in no time flat. In mere seconds, he stands in his boxer briefs, hands clenching into fists, ready to fight.
I jerk my head over toward the small ring we have for sparring and sit down on one of the benches at the side. We both carefully wrap our hands, then I pluck a pair of gloves out of my bag, while Duke crosses to the side of the room to grab a pair for himself from the selection we keep down here. We tug them on, and after a few minutes of jogging around and limbering up, it’s on. Duke comes at me full force, like he’s trying to take out every bit of pent-up frustration out on me.
He can bring it all he wants. I’m willing to stand in as his punching bag because Iamhis friend, whether he’s mad at me right now or not.
He goes all out, his fist flying toward my face, and I weave and bob, tightening my ab muscles to help me maneuver out of the way. We circle each other, throwing a punch here and there, but the aggression really comes out when we get close enough to grapple. We go around and around, each of us attempting to gain the upper hand. Sweat pours from my body as we steadily taunt each other without words.
In a bold move, his hand latches onto the back of my neck, but at the same time, I grab his, and soon we’re locked in a sick dance. His gaze drills into mine, eyes fiercer than I’ve seen in a very long time. Usually, our sparring is fun, but there’s a hint of something else here. Something chaotic and filled with anger and frustration. It’s a certain aggression I’ve never seen in him before. It’s absolutely chilling.
We finally push away from each other, and I swing, catching him on the chin. But what I’m not expecting is for him to cock back and immediately swing. It’s not a direct hit, but it glances off the side of my head, and hurts just the same.Fuck.
But, as is the norm when we fight, I definitely have the advantage, being a full four inches taller, with a bigger wingspan, and a solid forty to fifty pounds on him. Hell, I’m not trying to hurt him, just help him work out some of his bitterness. His intent, though, is way less clear. He darts in, trying to hook my leg with his, and take me down, but it’s not happening. I ram my knee up and catch him right in the gut. Wheezing, he doubles over, so I take him down to the ground, where we roll, each of us getting in a few punches and jabs now that we’re at close range. But then it becomes a game of submission, and this is where I fuckin’ excel.
It’s not long before I put him in a rear naked choke, and he’s forced to tap out. I let go and he pulls away, collapsing on the mat next to me. “Motherfucker,”he heaves out from the flat of his back. He covers his eyes with his hands as breath whooshes in and out of him. Finally, he drops his hands and comes to a sitting position. He draws his legs up, circling his knees with his arms, and grinds out, “I need to fill you in on something. There’s more to this fucking mess with Lennon than we realized.”
“This doesn’t sound good.” I get up and grab two bottles of water from the mini fridge and a couple of towels before returning to sit with him. He grunts his thanks as I toss both water and a towel in his direction. Uncapping my water, I down half of it, then arch my brow. Waiting.
