Page 36 of Bear
“I’ll sleep between practice and whatever brotherhood meeting Duke is planning. He might not be up for it by the end of the day, anyway. Hard to say. I can always tell everyone that they’d better get their asses in line. We can talk about the auction bullshit some other time.” I let a gust of air blow past my lips. “As if we don’t have enough to worry about this week.”
“Wait, you don’t want to do it? The auction, I mean?” Her head tilts to the side, and she studies me with all the inquisitiveness I’ve come to expect from Lennon. And maybe the slightest gleam of hope.
“I don’t think it’s necessary, but these insane events have always been done at the beginning of the year. I’ve never really questioned it before because it was out of my control.” I let out a strangled groan. “Fuck, it stillissomething we don’t get a fucking say in. And frankly, I’m worried about whatever Duke has in his head where Kingston is concerned because this auction puts them in the same room. Two fucking heads of brotherhoods who don’t take shit from anyone. It’s a fucking disaster waiting to happen.” If Duke could just fucking let it go, they’d both be better off. Easy for me to say, though. I’m not the one with the dead girlfriend. Another crash sounds overhead. Glass?Fuck.“We can talk about it some other time. I’m going to go up. Go to bed.” To soften the blow, I pull her back to me and drop a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Please, Lennon. For me?”
She nods, drawing in a shaky breath. “We just need this day to be over with.”
I agree with her, but I also know a change of date isn’t going to magically fix everything. Leaving Lennon at the doorway to her room with a tight smile and a wave, I open the attic door. Mason fucking hates surprises, so I bang the door shut behind me and call up the stairs to him. “Mase. I’m coming up. Don’t throw shit at me.”
Labored breathing sounds from above, like he’s really given himself a workout letting all the chaos and rage inside him out. I’d been hoping he’d just whip out his charcoals and draw, but nope. As I reach the top of the steps, I grip the metal railing to my right and peer through the bars at him. He’s pacing, hands in his hair again, tugging hard. He’s tossed a bunch of shit around, may have even destroyed some of his work. It’s now in a pile in the corner of the room, the wood frames of broken canvases sticking up at bizarre angles. My inner self lets out a low whistle that I don’t dare release.
“What do you want?” Mason’s voice is rough, like it gets when he’s been drinking. Despite all the ruckus he’s caused up here, he still seems to be agitated, ready to go off like a bomb at any moment. It’d take very little to light his fuse, that’s for fucking sure.
Cautiously, I move closer, reaching out and stopping his motion with a hand to his shoulder. He lets out an anguished roar as he spins in my hold. I catch him against me, clamping both of my arms around his biceps and across his chest. I grapple with him for a few seconds before he gives up, all the fight going out of him.
“Fucking let go. I’m fine.”
I gesture toward the bottle he’s obviously been downing. “You save any of that vodka for me?”
Apparently, he wasn’t expecting that question from me. I release him and he turns around, frowning. His lip curls as he considers me warily. “You never drink during football season.”
“It depends, man. I’ve got five days before another game. I’m sure it’ll be fine. And my sleep’s already fucked, so may as well, right? Practice is going to suck today either way.” I shrug, my eyes drifting over the mess. “Besides. Looks like you could use a drinking buddy.”
His jaw works to the side as he rolls his eyes, but he walks over to the table where the vodka bottle sits, waiting for him to demolish it. Reluctantly, he picks up the bottle and hands it to me before dropping himself to the middle of the floor. He sits hunched over with his arms crossed and resting on his knees. A deep, audible sigh leaves him as he lowers his head to his forearm.
Fuck it.Who am I to argue with where he wants to do this? I lower myself across from him, stretching my legs out in front of me. I take a swig of the vodka directly from the bottle before I set it between us and lean back on my hands. Thank goodness Mason likes the good stuff or that would have hurt going down a helluva lot more than it did. I wait a moment before speaking, allowing the alcohol to take a slow, winding path to my stomach. I watch as he snags the bottle and swallows down another shot, then stares at the floor, as if he’s burning a hole in it. I grimace. And maybe he wants to. Duke is down there, after all.
I don’t even know where to start, so I take the easy route. A simple question. Or so I hope. “What the hell happened tonight? You want to clue me in?”
Ever so slowly, Mason lifts his head, meeting my gaze with deep, dark eyes that hold all the damn secrets to his twisted soul. He scrapes his teeth over his lip, then begins to chew on it. When Mason’s up and throwing shit, he’s an open book, his seething, wrathful emotions on full display … but when he gets contemplative like this, he turns inward, and it’s really hard to get him to speak freely.
“Take another drink. Maybe it’ll help,” I grit, my voice raspy. “Or maybe I could try to help you figure out what you want to talk about.”
“Who says I want to talk?” He glances at me, a snarl close to the surface of his question.
“You can say that, but I actually think you need a friend tonight more than you do a drinking buddy.” I hold out my hand for the bottle. “But I’ll be both, if that’s what helps.”
“I don’t need any more help now than I’ve needed in the last three years.”
My eyebrows dart together. I think I understand what he’s getting at, but we need to start with tonight. “You know, I kinda had an idea that you might play for both teams.”
He doesn’t say anything but lifts a brow and nods. His chest jerks with his silent admission.
Okay, so we’re getting somewhere. Sort of. “And I’d gotten a certain vibe from the two of you, but I thought I was imagining it.” My eyes flick to his. “I haven’t had long to think about it, but I’m a little disappointed neither of you ever said a word about it. We’ve been friendsforever,Mase.”
This time, he shrugs before taking another drink, eyeing me. His tongue slips out to slide over his recently abraded lower lip, an attempt to soothe the battered skin. “Didn’t know what you’d think. Does it bother you?”
“No.” I pause, running a hand through my hair. “It doesn’t. It’s not something I’m into, but I’m cool with it. You should do what feels right to you.”
Mason takes that in with a deep breath. “Okay. As for Duke, I know fuck all of what’s in his head sometimes.” Groaning, he mutters, “Just when I think I’ve got him on lock, he throws me so bad it—” His lip curls, and he brings the vodka to his lips again. He covers his eyes with his hand for a moment before he mutters, almost to himself, “Hurts just as bad as the first time.”
We sit in silence for a few moments, my brain’s synapses attempting to fire in its sleep-deprived state. “Wait. Freshman year, the two of you fell out pretty hard. I remember it vividly. Like one day you were cool with each other, we were getting our bearings here… and the next you were at each other’s throats.” My jaw works to the side as I begin to finally piece the puzzle together. “In fact, it was right around September 5.”
Mason presses his lips together, and his jaw turns stony. It takes him a moment, but he nods ever so slightly, our eyes connecting. “I thought it’d help him get his mind off shit.” He huffs out a laugh at my eyes as they bug out. “Not me. I brought a chick home, and we took turns fucking the hell out of her. She eventually left. We were drunk and naked.”
I blink hard. “And you…”
“Yep.” He takes a longer swallow of the vodka. “It was good, but it fucked everything up. I wanted more, and he’s been in denial ever since.”
