Page 33 of Mason
The screams. They’d reminded me of nights when I was a little boy and had heard stuff that would jar me awake. Lennon’s cries had made my mind get all twisted up and disoriented. Bent.
Until she was able to tell me her name, I’d been stuck in a state of confusion. Long blonde hair. Wide, scared eyes. I draw in a breath. Bear is right. That’s where the similarities end. But try telling that to my head when I’ve woken up in a sleep-induced nightmarish fog.
Thank god the moment the switch flips in my brain, and I know I’m dealing with reality, I don’t associate Lennon with my mother … because that’d be fuckin’ awkward.
This girl, she’s gorgeous, with just the right amount of bite. But she’s only been here a handful of days, and I know better than to get too close too fast. Hell, I’ve never let anyone in at all. I don’t date. I fuck. That way no one gets hurt.
Honestly, I don’t want to take a closer look as to why Lennon has me thinking about her more often than I have any right to. And she saw the darkness that haunts me last night. She saw inside my twisted head, and I fucking hate that I let her. She saw that her nightmare threw me almost as hard as it did her.
Being around her at all is probably a huge fucking mistake, though Iamhaving fun using Duke’s apparent obsession with his sassy-mouthed stepsister to fuck with him. It’s genius.
I throw on clothes and make my way downstairs for food. I didn’t bother eating lunch on campus between classes, and I slept so long that now I’m to the point where if I have to cook something, I might keel over.
Before I can go in search of anything, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I retrieve it, glancing at the screen before I decline the call. My stomach rumbles angrily at me, getting my attention again, and I throw open the pantry, quickly rummaging around for anything that looks halfway edible.
“Was that your stomach?”
Lennon hadn’t been anywhere in sight ten seconds ago. I duck my head out of the pantry, eyeing her. She’s wearing the same shorts and tank that she wore to class this morning. The only difference is that her hair is swept onto the top of her head in some sort of artful mess. I tilt my head to the side. It’s secured with a pencil. “Yeah. It’s hangry.” From the looks of it, maybe Duke should have included some hair ties in the box of shit he'd bought her. That’s the second time I’ve seen her walking around with a writing implement stabbed into her hair to hold it in place.
She leans on the counter, bracing her forearms in front of her. “What are you going to eat?”
I come out of the pantry with a box of crackers, holding them up instead of answering, then head to the fridge, dig around in the drawer, and come up with a block of cheese. In the fruit drawer, I find a bag of grapes and grab those, too.
“Get me a plate, would you?” I stoop down and pull a cutting board out of the cabinet.
When she doesn’t move, I arch a brow at her. “What?”
“I wasn’t sure if you were giving me an order as a grunt or because you might be willing to share if I help out…?” She gives me a hopeful grin. “I don’t cook much, but crackers and cheese sound good.”
“Yeah, me neither. That’s why I take advantage when Bear cooks.” Before I can finish my train of thought, my phone buzzes in my pocket again. This time, I pull it out and slap it on the counter, jabbing at the button to send the call to voice mail. I pivot, getting a knife out of the block, and begin slicing the cheese—only, I practically hack at it because the constant phone calls are pissing me off.
A moment later, the damn phone vibrates on the counter, and I have to hold myself back. What I really want to do is pick it up and throw it against the fucking wall. But the last time I did that, I ended up with one of my father’s lackeys here in no time flat. Gotta hand it to him, that man has a small army of men at his beck and call, even from behind bars, helping my brother to run his shit so that when he gets out of prison—if he ever gets out—they’ll have kept things running smoothly. Tristan Valentine and Derek Pierce also have their eyeballs all over things, seeing as how their businesses are all interconnected, and they co-own a bunch of shit.
“Fuck,” I bite out, setting the knife down with a clatter on the granite. If I don’t answer on the fourth ring, that’s it. I dig my heels in when my father calls because I fucking can and I know it pisses him off,notbecause it’ll do any fucking good. In the end, he knows I’ll answer eventually, unless I want to get another visit.
Lennon’s hand lands on top of mine, and she steps in close. “Here’s the plate you asked for. I was joking—sort of. You don’t have to share with me, but it looks like you could use a hand.” She gestures to the knife. “Let me help you.”
“You can’t help me. No one can help me,” I grit out. It’s not what she meant by helping, but it’s what I feel. My chest constricts as I look down at her. Lennon has a softer side—one I could so easily crush. She shouldn’t be any-fucking-where near me.
Surprisingly, she doesn’t argue, but nods, wetting her lips as she continues to study me. I shouldn’t have gone to her last night. I shouldn’t have touched her. I should have just let her scream.
The screams.My eyes crash shut, and I blow out a hard breath, remembering how she’d trusted me to be there with her. Lennon finds comfort inside my chaos. But she shouldn’t. Nope. She never should have.
The phone rings a fourth time, and my fingers clench briefly around the knife before I come to my senses and release it. Pulling my hand from under Lennon’s, I snatch up the phone from the counter and haul ass out of the kitchen without a backward glance. I head for the front of the house, slipping outside to answer the call. I drop wearily onto the top step, resting my elbows on bent knees with the phone to my ear. “Yeah.”
My father’s deep voice in my ear gives me the same sense of dread it always has. “Nice greeting, son. I hear you’re as big of a pain in the ass as ever.”
I shrug, even though he can’t see me. “Depends on who you’re talking to, I suppose.” I honestly don’t know what the hell he’s talking about, but I also don’t give a fuck.
“I have my sources. As always. Eyes everywhere, Mason. Eyes every-fucking-where.”
“What do you want?” I growl, letting my attitude out, in direct response to his.
“I’ll be brief, as that’s all I have time for.”
“I’ll believe that when you stop barking in my ear.” I roll my eyes, wishing he were right in front of me so he could see the show of defiance.
“Listen up, you little prick. I’m sending Hunter to check on things over there. He’ll show up sometime in the next two weeks.”
