Page 103 of Played
King scrubs a hand across his head and blinks at all of us. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”
Goddammit, even beat up he’s sexy as hell and no less adorable. “No.” I pull out the chair next to me and indicate he should sit.
Maddox grabs him a plate and some silverware and passes it over. “We brought breakfast. What’ll it be?”
“Shouldn’t you guys be at work?” King asks, looking around the table. “It’s after ten.”
“Work can wait,” Drake says.
“Yeah, this is more important,” Maddox adds.
King rubs his eyes and shakes his head. “Breakfast is more important?”
Nathan takes a huge bite of a bacon roll, licks a little grease from his lip, and says, “No. Checking in on you and Mase is though.”
“How are you doing, buddy?” Drake asks.
King eyes my brothers with what looks a lot like suspicion. Fuck. Is this too much for him after everything that happened? I know they’re a lot, but they’re my brothers. And this is how James men show our support. We’re a big part of each other’s lives. Hell, it’s a lucky break that the wives and kid didn’t tag along too. Not to mention Pop, who would be fussing over meand King and doing his damnedest to persuade us to get checked out at the hospital.
King spears a pancake with a fork and plonks it on his plate. “I’m okay, I guess. This is interesting. Kinda strange to wake up and have you all here eating a breakfast that would feed a platoon of soldiers.” He scrubs a hand over his stubble. “Strange, but nice.” He stuffs half the pancake into mouth, chews, and swallows before adding, “I could get used to it.”
Elijah clears his throat, and it makes us all look toward where he sits at the head of the table. “Now that we’re all fed, can we discuss the elephant in the room? What the fuck happened, and who do we need to kill?” Yup. There’s that CEO energy we know and love.
Chapter
Fifty-One
KING
There’s something about Elijah that leaves me with no doubt in my mind that he would do anything to protect his brothers, and the words he just uttered send a chill down my spine.
What if he thinks I’m not good enough for Mason? What if once he discovers that yesterday was all my fault, he decides I’m one of the people he needs to remove from his brother’s life? Those familiar feelings of shame and guilt threaten to crush me, and I almost throw up the pancake I devoured. I hate what my father did to Mason. I hate what I did to him. I’m spiraling, and I’m doing it under the scrutinizing gazes of one of the most powerful and influential families in America.
Mason’s hand lands on my thigh under the table, and he squeezes firmly, his fingertips digging into the taut muscle of my quads. With that one touch, he says everything: This isourstory. Yes, there are parts of it that are shameful and full of regret, but it’s still who we are. And whether his brothers hate me or not, he loves me, and that’s all that really fucking matters.
“It’s a really long story,” Mason says, and he follows it up with a snort of laughter.
Maddox leans forward, his dark-brown eyes full of concern and… I don’t know exactly, but something tells me he has a lot of his own demons. “We got all the time in the world, bro.”
Mason blows out a breath and looks at me. I nod my agreement. He needs to tell them the whole truth. He’s carried it with him for far too long. And although my part in it will never be easy to hear, he deserves to tell his truth. They can judge me if they need to, but they can’t possibly judge me as harshly as I judge myself.
I rest my hand on the side of his neck, and he leans into my touch. “Tell them everything, baby.”
He bites down on his lip and takes a breath.
Mason’s brothers listen to the story of our past, and when he glosses over my part in it, I fill in the gaps. I need them to know what I did, and I never want him to feel as though he has to hide anything because of me ever again.
I hold his hand while he tells them what my father did to him eighteen years ago. The fury in the room is palpable. But they let him talk, offering only words of reassurance and encouragement as he bares his soul. I’m so fucking proud of him.
And then we get to recent events, and I fill in some gaps about the kind of people my parents are and how nothing that happened yesterday should have come as a surprise. Still, it did. “That basement was a staple of my childhood, but I never expected they’d do that to me as a grown man. I’m ashamed that I wasn’t strong enough to stop them,” I admit, and the crack in my voice makes me feel weaker.
Mason squeezes my hand. “Because who fucking does that to their own kid? You were knocked unconscious from behind and chained in a basement. None of us are strong enough to withstand that.”
I drop my head, wishing they’d all leave. The weight of their judgment is too heavy.
“Jesus fucking Christ, King.” Drake whistles. “You’re one tough son of a bitch.”
My head snaps up, and I find him staring at me with awe. “What?”
