: Chapter 8

Mason

Before, July

As soon as the gang is sitting down, the food spread out along the table, I step up to the end of it. “So, plan for tonight.” I clap my hands, making sure everyone’s paying attention, but quickly point my focus to the tiny blond. My smile spreads slowly. “Pretty Little here has never been on a walk on the beach at night. That’s a crime. So I wanna take her.”

A smile tugs at her lips, and her man whips his head my way. He glares, and I wink at the little fucker. I don’t know why, but I kind of enjoy messing with him, but there is a point to it. I gotta see how he reacts.

Will he be as douchey as his khaki shorts and collared shirt?

Will he slide right into our crew like he was born to be there the way the girl under his arm has?

I scoff to myself. Doubtful.

But if she likes him, I probably will, too. Maybe.

Not that I’ll tell him that.

The little laugh that leaves Payton tells me his scowl isn’t a constant thing, but she did run away to California without telling him and ignored his calls for a week, so it makes sense. At least he cares enough about her to show up. I should give him points for that.

Nah. Still don’t like him much.

I glare right back, fucking with him some more. “Guess you can come. If you can keep your hands to yourself.” I look pointedly at his arm around her shoulder.

“Mason,” Parker warns, already fully used to my shit. He’s hot for my cousin, after all.

“My hands stay where they belong—on her. And I’ll take her on that walk, but you’re welcome to come if you feel like showing us around.”

Huh. Okay, he’s got balls.

Jury is still out on how big.

I look to Payton, who tries to hide a shocked smile against his puny chest.

“All right, kid.” I fight a grin when his eyes narrow at the word kid. “You’ve got sport. We’ll play your way for a while.”

Ari sighs and taps his shoulder. “Sorry, Deaton. But you’re screwed. When Mason decides he cares, he’s a thousand percent. No chill factor. Sorry to say…but he never lets up.”

Everyone looks my way, so I force a grin. “She’s my sister from another mister,” I pop off, clearing my throat after. That was a stupid thing to say, but whatever. It’s probably true anyway. That’s how things are with Cameron. She’s Ari’s best friend, therefore she’s family. Can’t let anyone fuck with family.

“How old are you?” Chase pipes up, staring at Deaton with a blank expression.

I smack Chase’s arm, nodding my approval at his question, and join in on the glaring.

“Seventeen,” Deaton answers, unbothered by all the third degree he’s been getting since he arrived in town.

Parker never got on our asses about the whole taking him down in the sand thing, so it’s safe to say they didn’t tell him. Probably too embarrassing for him, getting blindsided like that.

The dude should really pay attention to his surroundings. It’s no wonder he’s a wrestler and not a football player. He probably can’t handle focusing on more than one person at a time.

“She’s sixteen.” Chase frowns.

Almost seventeen…

“I’m aware.” Deaton pulls her closer. “Been in love with her since she was thirteen.”

Chase nods, glancing over at Payton a moment before looking away.

But what the fuck, in love since thirteen? Ain’t no way…is there?

The only thing I loved at thirteen was my PlayStation remote, pizza, and football.

I eye the pair curiously, and I don’t realize my head is cocked as I stare until my sister’s hand comes across the back of my skull, knocking me out of it.

I grin her way, and she rolls her eyes.

Oh yeah, and I love my family, but my sister the most. She’s the be-all and end-all of my existence. My only purpose outside of football.

Without the two, I’d just be a dickhead who laughs when he’s stressed and smiles when he wants to punch something but can’t. Ari is the softness I don’t have but wish I did.

That’s okay, though. It just means when life is tough, I get to be the rock she needs.

And I need to be needed.

Maybe it’s a brother thing or a twin thing. Maybe it’s just a me thing, but I don’t do well when I’m optional. It’s why I was the best high school quarterback in the state two years running.

You don’t need a backup quarterback. The position exists as a precaution, a just in case, and yeah, more often than not, that backup straps in and hits the field a handful of times a season, but the starter?

That number one slot?

You need that fucker.

And all my life, that fucker has been me because I make sure it is. I bust my ass all year long so there is never a doubt in anyone’s mind.

“Okay, they’re all overprotective fools, nothing new. Now, can we eat?” Cameron whines.

Everyone gets seated, and I quickly squeeze my ass into the seat right across from the happy little couple.

I stare at her until she looks up, then smile around a mouthful of burger.

“So, Deaton, where did you sleep last night?”

My sister slaps her forehead, and the others groan. But Payton?

Payton shakes her head, a small smile she tries to hide around her fork.

Satisfaction flickers through me, and I settle into my seat.

Mission accomplished.

Payton

Everyone is chatting among themselves as we follow the path of the sand closer to the pier. Mason and Lolli had been dying to go on that walk he talked about all day and finally got it started. Not sure why he’s so excited, but maybe he just really wants ice cream like Lolli does. We’ve been walking for about ten minutes now, and she’s mentioned it twice already.

I look down at my hand, fingers laced with Deaton’s, a tension between us that’s not normally there. He keeps peeking at me from the corner of his eye, so I give in and face him with what I hope is a reassuring smile.

“I love you, you know,” I whisper, and Deaton looks over at me with kind eyes.

“I know.” He presses a kiss to my cheek, and we both face forward.

Things between us feel a little fractured, which scares me.

For years, he’s all I’ve had. My brother moved in with my dad, and my mom refused to allow me to see him, and then he didn’t fight to make sure he could. Then she ran off my friends and did her best to do the same with Deaton, so it’s been hard.

He’s been the only person I could lean on for so long, my best friend, and it feels unnatural for us to have colliding mindsets. I know it’s my fault and he’s just worried. I also know the longer I avoid the conversation he’s dying to have, the worse it will likely get, but I sort of dropped two giant bombs on him in one day, and I’m a little afraid to find out if I’m the one holding the detonator or if he is.

I need more time, and while I want to be pissed that he doesn’t want to waste another second, I can’t be. As much as I don’t want to talk, I get why he needs to, but unfortunately that doesn’t make it any easier. Even now, in a group of ten or so, he keeps trying to whisper things, and I keep jumping into other people’s conversations to avoid answering.

It’s obvious as hell, but he doesn’t call me out, just shifts his arm to rest on my shoulder instead.

The chatting of the others continues as we near the pier, the night growing louder around us when Mason jumps ahead, forcing us all to pause where we stand so he can have center stage.

“Ah shit.” Mason claps, a glint in his eyes when they find mine, and somehow, I know he’s coming for me before he even moves. He is facing us, the festivities a few yards behind him, and his attention moves on to Deaton. “All right, big D—that’s for Deaton, so don’t be getting a big head.”

Oh my god. A blush heats my cheeks instantly, and when Mason spots it, his grin grows, so I drop my gaze to the sand.

“Lemme steal your girl for a minute.” Mason motions to the band taking the small stage. “Promise I’ll give her back. I just want all the credit for this one.”

“Maybe you should back off a bit, Mason.” Chase frowns, the others shooting looks his way.

His best friend glares at him, but he dismisses him quickly when Deaton’s arm drops from my shoulder.

“Nah, man. It’s cool.” His soft hand folds into mine, and he pulls it to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “If she wants to, she can, obviously. But I appreciate you not being a dick for once.”

I smile at Deaton, knowing I’m the only person aware he’s so far from the possessive type it’s not even funny. He’s enjoying playing with Mason, and I think it’s adorable.

My brother’s little friend group is kind of intimidating, even for me. They’re all super close and from what I can tell, in each other’s business but not in a shitty, judgy way. In fact, it seems to be the opposite, but who knows? Maybe they all talk shit about each other behind one another’s backs.

Yeah, that seems more realistic…or maybe you’re just so used to shitty people you don’t know how to spot good ones?

I swallow, refocusing.

Deaton looks to me when I remain silent, so I plaster a fake smile on my face, hating how my thoughts and experiences always slacken the rope I’m forever climbing, putting even more distance between me and the rest of the world no matter how desperately I try to climb to its top.

Thankfully, Deaton is on the same side of that wall as I am. It’s why he and I work so well. It’s how we connected, alone and searching for a way out.

Pushing onto my toes, I kiss his cheek, muscles tensing as his fingers skim over the exposed skin of my stomach. Baby.

There’s a baby in there.

Our baby.

Oh my god, I’m sixteen and pregnant.

Our eyes lock, and a softness falls over his, one that has panic rising in my throat, but then Mason’s hand slides into view. Slowly, I tear my gaze from Deaton’s to meet his.

Mason lets out a low chuckle, tipping his head with a grin that draws a small smile to my own lips. “You with me?” he asks, and I get the sense he can see it, my need for an escape.

I sweep a hand toward the band, and the two of us fall in step together.

“Hey, Mason!” Deaton calls not five seconds after we break from the others. We glance back, and Deaton’s eyes lock with mine. “You got my family in your hands.”

My lips part, my heart pounding wildly. That burning sensation I hate pricks at the backs of my eyes, so I slowly face forward, breaking the connection, and after a silent moment, Mason does the same.

I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I don’t care enough to ask, and we don’t speak as we move closer to the giant circle of string lights and laughter. The band members have taken their spots behind the mics, and as the song playing ends, the DJ welcomes them back to the makeshift stage.

They waste no time before strumming on their guitars, playing an acoustic version of “Feels” by Kiiara.

My lips curve, and then a wide chest is blocking my view.

I look up to find a grinning Mason, his arms outstretched as if he’s midwaltz, minus the dance partner. “Dance with me.”

With a spirited sigh, I take his hand and place the other on his shoulder, his other gently landing on my waist. We step to the music, at least a dozen others around us doing the same thing, though not separated like they’re at a middle school dance the way we are.

My eyes keep going back to the band, and I watch the lead singer’s fingers as they drift across the strings of his guitar in fluid motions. Up and down, ring finger to pointer to middle, and too many other various versions to track.

“So you’ve got a thing for musicians, do you?” Mason follows my line of sight. “I’m telling Richie Rich.”

My chuckle is low, and I shake my head, looking up into Mason’s brown eyes. “No, I don’t have a thing for musicians, and sorry to burst your bubble, but Deaton isn’t the jealous type.”

“Clearly,” he scoffs, and I roll my eyes playfully.

He’s not being an ass, just teasing, so I ignore his Richie Rich comment.

He’s not wrong, though. At first glance, Deaton screams money. He looks like the typical private school kid with khaki shorts and a Hollywood smile. His skin is flawless and his eyes the color of dark chocolate. His family has more zeros in their bank account than all the James Bond movies combined, but none of that matters to him. In fact, he hates it. Hates his family.

I’m all he can count on in this world, same as he’s been for me.

Sure, I have my brother, but after my dad left my mom, everything changed. I was too young to choose, and she tore me away from everyone, threatened them if they had any contact with me, and since she no longer had my brother’s life under her sharp, wide-stretched claws, she took mine.

She stole my dad from me, then my brother and my friends. She even took my body, molding it into what she wanted it to be. She left me with nothing but a sick, twisted need for her acceptance. For the love she refused to give.

It wasn’t until I found Deaton that I realized it wasn’t that she refused but rather that she had no idea what the word even meant. Strangely, neither did I until I felt it for myself.

The love I’ve come to know is supportive and kind. It’s safe and…honest.

“Hey.” The softness in Mason’s tone catches me off guard, and I look up, waiting for him to tell me everything will be okay, that having a baby is a blessing, even at sixteen, even if I haven’t decided what I’m going to do. “Want me to kick his ass?”

My muscles freeze instantly, and then an unexpected laugh falls from my lips, his words the furthest thing from what I imagined. Mason starts laughing, too, and when he stretches our hands high above my head, I let him twirl me around a little.

Maybe things won’t be so bad after all.

Maybe Deaton and I could really keep and care for this baby.

Or maybe I’ll screw it all up and end up just like my mother.