Page 9 of Mason
“Why do you do this to me?” I whisper raggedly, each word scraping from my throat as misery rolls through my body in great waves. “Why do you punish me?” Tears leak from the corners of her eyes, and her hands grapple at my wrists, pulling weakly. I blink, taking in the horror in her eyes as I bend her farther over the rail. There’s something about the way she’s looking at me that twists in my brain.
I throw my head back, anguish flowing freely now. I shove her away from me, and she lands in a heap on the floor of the balcony. In a fit of fury, I snatch up a metal table from behind me and heave it over the balcony’s rail. It soars through the air, splashing into the pool a moment later.
“What the fucking hell is going on here?” Bear crashes through the open doorway and skids to a stop. Our eyes meet as my arms jerk erratically. I reach up and grab at my hair just to have something to hold onto. And I pull. Hard.Wake up.This is all just a really bad fucking dream.
“Make it stop. Make her go away,” I moan as I clamp my eyes shut.
“Calm thefuckdown, Mason.” His big paw of a hand slaps my cheek.
Stunned by the sting, my eyes flick open in time to see his gaze shift toher.His eyes widen as his gaze swings back to me. “What the fuck is wrong with you? What did you do?” he growls.
He lets go of me to go to her. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him kneel down beside her. He’s whispering something, but the blood is crashing through my head, whooshing so hard I can’t hear. My chest heaves in great jerking movements, and I clutch at the back of my neck with both hands, pacing the length of the balcony. I glance at her, atthemwhere Bear’s trying to calm her. I might not be hearing well over the roaring in my head, but I can see she’s gagging and coughing and crying.
Fuck, the way she torments me. My hands fist reflexively, fingernails cutting half-moons into my palms. I drop to my knees, leaning forward and supporting myself with my hands. I pant. How is this possible? That slap was real. So fucking real my cheek still burns with it. But he’s over there with her, lifting her panty- and bralette-clad body off the floor and into his arms. My gaze follows as he exits the balcony via the other door.
The door to the room where I didn’t want Lennon staying.
Lennon.I shake my head, trying to understand what the fuck I just did—and hating myself for the answers I’m coming up with.
* * *
“What the ever-loving fuck was that?”Bear storms into my room a while later, hands on his hips, rage seething from him. He’s an imposing figure with the extra height, but he doesn’t fucking scare me. Goddamn teddy bear if you ask me, but then again, I don’t face him in the places where he truly lets loose. He’s ruthless, both on the football field and elsewhere. Get in his way and regret it. Willing to do some sketchy shit when pushed.
I don’t have a clue how much time has passed because I’ve been so lost in trying to figure out what’s happening to me. I glance up from the YouTube video I’d been mindlessly watching and shrug.
“No. You don’t get to brush this off like it’s nothing. You’ve got a real fucking problem, man. You’re fucked-up. Can’t even admit it to yourself.”
“Fuck off,” I mumble, infusing my words with a coldness I generally only reserve for Duke because I know it pisses him off. He’s wrong. I’m well aware that I’m fucked in the head. I’m a nightmare of my own making.
Bear shakes his head, seeing right through my BS, and I can feel the impatience simmering within him. “Don’t tell me to fuck off. You could have seriously hurt her. I’m trying to look out for you, but you’re making it really goddamn difficult right now.”
I return my gaze to my phone and grit out, “So don’t fucking look out for me. I can take care of myself.”
From under my hooded glare, I can see Bear staring daggers at me. “That’s not the goddamn point, and you know it. You need therapy or something.” He hesitates, his lips twisting. “That’s not her, man. It’s not. She’s got long blonde hair and is built the same. But that’s where the similarity ends. The problem is you’re hovering somewhere between reality and your nightmares.”
“You can leave now.” I run a hand through my hair, finally lifting my head to meet his eyes.
“You and I both fucking know you weren’t in control of what you were doing. But I’m gonna ask Duke in the morning about how we program that fucking alarm to go off when those doors open.”
“Don’t,” I heave out, fear climbing into my throat like it’s going to rob me of my breath.
“Why not?”
My voice cracks as I whisper tortured words. “Because I don’t want to forget her.”
SIX
BEAR
A fine sheenof sweat covers my body as I work my quads. Coach doesn’t like to train us too hard before the first game of the season, so he’d called for a rest weekend, then we’ll be back at it on Monday to prepare for the big game Saturday night. At KU, football is life. The Lions win. It’s what we do. Our reputation attracts the best of the best players. Hell, Duke probably should be playing, too, but there’s never been any convincing him once he made up his mind that he was done forever. He’d refused to play our senior year of high school, and he was one of the best wide receivers our school had ever seen. He was too messed up in the head over Juliette. His dad, the unfeeling prick, couldn’t understand his decision and even tried to get me to badger him into playing college ball. I guess he could have bought Duke’s way onto the team with a few well-greased palms, but Duke would have refused the offer if it came like that, anyway.
Tristan Valentine—the fucking arrogant asshole—doesn’t know his son, nor does he understand why he’s no longer playing. Doesn’t give two shits about it either.
It’s not the first or last time Duke, Mason, or I have seen poor behavior from our predecessors. It sure as fuck won’t be the last. They have their fingers in way too many dirty pots. Even Mason’s dad, who is still serving time in prison, manages to run things from behind bars. That’s power right there. I’ve always wondered how he inspired such loyalty, but I don’t want to get close enough to find out. My own old man is more than enough to deal with, and I’m caught up in all his shit with no way to escape.
All the family drama aside, I’m down here this morning because I don’t fucking know how to rest. I’m always moving, always seeking to physically improve myself because it’s all I have. That's all I know. I need football to work out for me. Go pro or go home. Period. It’s the one thing my old man and I agree on, but I really hope that when I’m playing at that level that he’ll leave me the fuck alone. Gripping the handles, I shake myself of my mind’s wanderings and concentrate on my breathing and my form as I straighten my knees, pressing upward with all my might. Just a few more reps.
When I’m satisfied I’ve pushed myself hard enough, it’s up and to the next piece of equipment. I hit the seat with disinfectant spray and a towel, then head to the rack of weights at the center of the room. I pick up a pair of twenty-five-pound dumbbells, then step up onto a raised platform. Pushing off the ground, I bring myself up to stand on the platform. Up, up. Down, down. Repeat.
