Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
MASE
The diner is just how I remember it, so much so, I swear it hasn’t even been painted. The thought should turn my stomach, but the nostalgia from bringing Summer here has me smiling from ear to ear.
The last time I was here was with my best friends and fresh out of high school. It’s where we planned our dream of building STORM Enterprises and everything in it.
I never could have imagined where it would lead us today, and I sure as hell never imagined sitting here in the exact same booth with a girl almost young enough to be my daughter, whom I’ve quickly become infatuated with.
Summer sucks on the straw of her milkshake, and my cock twitches at the reminder of her perfect lips suckling me in the truck the other day. It’s without a doubt the most sexually vulnerable position I’ve ever been in before, and it’s something I want to experience with her again and again.
The bell above the door chimes, and I grimace as another group of teenagers pushes into the diner.
There’s already one group in football shirts becoming louder by the minute, and Summer has taken it upon herself to slink into the corner away from their view.
When I asked her what was wrong, she pointed out one of the guys from the office.
The one who poured a drink over her head, the very same one I will be speaking to before he leaves here, but I need to pick my moment.
I’m not going to make a scene in front of her.
The last thing I want is to cause more waves, knowing how pissed she is that I switched her phone out.
What she doesn’t know is I’m having someone check through all her messages to be sure there’s nothing to be wary of.
Especially with Hugh’s comment about me watching Travis around her.
Maybe the little fucker is not the friend she thinks he is. Just another reason to keep them apart.
“Hey, Summer, why the hell are your messages bouncing back to my phone?” As if the devil himself summoned him to fuck with me.
I snap my gaze up toward the punk she calls her best friend.
Travis. Just the sound of his name has me gritting my teeth.
Fucking Travis? Sounds like his parents were groupies and he got caught up in the middle of it.
Summer flushes bright red, and if that color was on her cheeks because of me, I would like it a whole lot more, but I find myself irritated by the fact she’s been made to feel uncomfortable.
My knuckles ache from the tightness of my balled fists, and I move them beneath the table to disguise my inability to control my simmering temper.
“I-I … I need to use the restroom,” she blurts out, and I realize she’s turned pale really quickly. She springs up from the booth and pushes past Travis before rushing off in the direction of the restroom, holding a hand to her mouth, and my eyes narrow. What the fuck?
“You’re keeping her from me.”
I slowly trail my gaze up toward the kid who is glaring down at me like I’m something he stepped in, a sneer on his preppy-boy lips. Turning my attention back to my meal, I pick up a fry, dunk it in the mayo, then take my time chewing it, not so much as giving the kid another glance.
“She’s my best friend,” he snaps, and I have to hand it to him; the kid has balls to stand up to me.
Still, I ignore him.
“Did you hear me? I said, she’s my best friend.” His tone has darkened, and I love the fact I’m pissing the little shit off.
“Not anymore,” I grunt out with a sly smile.
A whoosh of air leaves his chest as if I’ve punched him. Then he scoffs and shifts from foot to foot. “Wow, you’re just like him, aren’t you?”
Languorously, I lift my gaze and nonchalantly raise my eyebrow, though my body is standing at attention.
“Your father. You’re just like him. Like father, like son.” Then he turns on his heel and heads toward the restroom, leaving me frozen at his words.
Am I just like him?
He’s controlling.
Manipulative.
Abusive.
Cruel.
Aged thirteen …
“I allow you to have the friends you have. Remember that, Mason.”
I nod.
“Speak!” He slams his fist on the desk, making me jump.
“Yes, sir.”
The sneer he throws in my direction makes me want to curl into the corner of the room. I’ve only been home from boarding school for an hour and he’s already started pulling me apart.
He stands and straightens his tie.
“You’ll be dressed accordingly and at the dinner table for seven p.m. sharp. Do you understand me?” His stern voice leaves no room for argument.
I hate dressing in the crisp white shirts and ties that make me feel like I have a noose around my neck. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. I’d like you to meet my new wife.”
My eyebrows shoot up. I met one the last time I came home; what the hell happened to that one? When I went back to school and told the guys, they agreed my father has no loyalty whatsoever.
Something else I’m going to have when I grow up.
“I look forward to it,” I reply robotically.
“She’s a good woman. She’s going to make a good mother to you.”
A smile spreads over his face, and in this moment, I hate him more than ever.
Present …
There’s no way in hell I’m anything like my father.
That’s not what I want for Summer and our future, not at all. I need to do better, be better. Be the man I want to be.
My mind spins, and a shudder washes over me. A sudden need to reassure her and be the man she deserves overwhelms me, and I almost trip out of the booth as I move toward the restroom.
As soon as my hand is on the women’s restroom door, I still at a sound coming from the men’s. “Look, man, I just want to leave. I don’t want any trouble.” It’s followed up by cruel laughter that has the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. What the fuck?
Instead of pushing open the women’s, I head into the men’s, and my eyes collide with Travis’s terror-stricken ones in the restroom mirror. Four men surround him, but on second glance, I realize they’re the same football guys from earlier, one of them being the prick who poured a drink over Summer.
Vengeance bubbles inside me.
“There a problem here?” I ask.
“I just want to leave. I don’t want any trouble.” Travis’s eyes flit toward the door.
“Ahhh, the gay boy doesn’t want any trouble,” one of the kids mocks, and Travis flinches before his cheeks flame further. He darts his eyes away from me, making me feel like I’ve been punched in the gut at my misplaced jealousy.
How the fuck could I have been so stupid? So blind.
Embarrassment swims in Travis’s eyes, and he struggles to hold his head high. The blush creeping up his cheeks turns deeper by the second, his ears reddening.
“You heard him; he wants to leave,” I grit out, though every cell in my body is fighting for retribution at their remark and the way they’ve treated Summer. Not to mention the way I’ve treated him. I’m angry at myself, downright furious.
“Nah, I don’t think he can leave just yet.
He didn’t get a view of my dick like he wants.
I’m just going to piss right here.” One of the guys steps up toward Travis, and he steps back until he hits the tiled wall.
I watch the horror on his face when the one who spoke to him slowly begins to unzip his pants.
“Lewis, maybe that’s enough.” Levi attempts to pull this punk back by his arm, but he snatches it away, intent on following through with pissing on Travis.
Lewis turns his head in Levi’s direction. “I don’t think it is. Get your phone out. I want you to film it.”
Levi’s eyes meet mine, and his Adam’s apple bobs while I leer back at him. You do it, motherfucker, and you’re dead. My silent eyes drill into him.
“Don’t worry about him. He can’t do shit without getting thrown in jail for touching us,” Lewis states, with a smug smirk I’m about to wipe off his face.
“You sure about that?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Absolutely.” Lewis grins with a confidence he really shouldn’t feel.
“This is too much, man,” Levi whispers, shoving his phone deeper into his pocket. That move just saved his good looks.
Lewis shakes his head. “Pussy.” Then he pulls his dick out, and the torment flooding Travis’s face is enough to wrench me from my stare-off. With one hand on his head and the other on his shoulder, I drive him face-first into the tiled wall of the restroom.
“Should’ve fucking listened,” I spit out, just before the sound of his nose cracking fills my veins with adrenaline, and blood sprays out over the white tiles.
One of his buddies takes a swing at me, and I duck before delivering a roundhouse kick to the third.
I throw Lewis to the floor, where he rolls around howling in pain like a little bitch.
The one who swung on me comes at me again, and I deliver a swift blow to his jaw that knocks him to the ground.
Swiping the blood splatter on my jeans, I turn to face Levi. “You gonna be a problem anymore?”
His eyes bulge. “No, sir.”
“Then you’re not gonna breathe a word about this”—I tilt my head down at the scene of the three guys rolling around on the floor—“got me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Travis. Let’s go, buddy.”
Relief floods his face, and in that moment, I want to throw my arm over his shoulder and protect him from scum like this, from the world. Travis rushes toward me, his cheeks still bright red. He spins and glares down at Lewis.
“Piece of shit.” Then he spits on him and follows me out the door.