Chapter 5 #2
The bright light of a chilly morning assaults us when I back out of the garage. Mason twists his fingers in my too-large shirt, his lips twisting up as if he’s afraid I’m going to ask him a question he doesn’t have the answer to.
“Yeah, I guess…”
“It’s about your OCD.”
Mason looks relieved. “Yeah, that’s okay. It’s a part of me, so I don’t get embarrassed by it.”
“Did that start young?”
Mason nods and turns his head to look out the window, effectively hiding his gaze from me. Instead of staring at him, I decide to focus on the road, my hands reflexively tightening on the steering wheel.
“Yeah. I had acute lymphocytic leukemia, or what’s commonly referred to as ALL, as a kid.
I was around eight when I was diagnosed.
I guess I just got sick and didn’t get better, then I started having the telltale signs of leukemia, so it all snowballed.
I had to get a bone marrow transplant, and because of some risk factors, I was, like, medium risk?
I don’t know, I can’t remember everything.
” Mason sounds resigned, face still turned away so I can’t see him.
“My mother went a little over the top. After I was in remission, she still kept me out of school and kept me away from risky activities. My immune system took a while to rebound after all the treatments.”
“What are risky activities?”
Mason snorts and his face twists in anger when he glances back at me.
“Anything that involved leaving the house basically. She just did too much. Looking back, I think she had OCD too, she just hyper-focused on me because she was so convinced any small childhood illness would now kill me. Going off to college was a hard-fought battle, but once I turned eighteen, she couldn’t really control me anymore.
By then Reid was already acting out for our parents’ attention. I just wanted to get away for once.”
“I get it.”
Mason turns to look at me, his gaze steely. “Do you?”
I grip the steering wheel tighter, swallowing hard.
“Yeah, it was just Jacob and me a lot. We had a single mom, and she worked nonstop. She cared about us, but she was never there, not like she needed to be. So it was Jacob and I against the world for a lot of things. Yeah, she fed us, kept us safe, put clothes on our backs, but we kind of raised each other.”
“Is that why you both act like feral alley cats sometimes?”
I snort a laugh and can’t help but smirk.
“Yeah, probably. She died when we were teens. She’d smoked a pack a day since she was young, and it caught up to her.
After that, we really did raise each other.
We ended up in separate foster homes, then found our way to a group home.
When we turned eighteen, we gained access to the little bit of money from her life insurance and made our way to college. ”
“It sucked, but I’m glad I was older when our parents died. But taking care of a teen Reid was not easy.” Mason laughs sarcastically, then eyes me out of the corner of his eye. “He was and always will be a little shit.”
“I believe that,” I say truthfully. “Is the scar from your cancer treatments?”
Mason glances down to look at the scar on his bicep with furrowed brows. “Yeah. I had to have a port for a little while. I didn’t have good veins, so it was a whole thing. I forget about it sometimes.”
“Ah.”
“You noticed it though,” Mason points out with an air of surprise.
I swallow hard. “It’s my job to notice the little things.”
Mason just hums and leans back in the seat, sighing in relief when we pull up in front of his house.
The drive is short, but it’s cold out, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable if I didn’t have easy access to the car.
Mason presses a few buttons on his phone and the small garage in the basement opens up, and he points in that direction for me to pull in.
“You guys don’t have a car?”
Mason shrugs in denial. “Neither of us like to drive.”
“Fair.”
Mason hops out when the garage door is firmly closed and makes his way inside. After grabbing all my stuff, I follow him, relaxing a little bit at the familiar homey feeling of the house. It smells clean like usual, with a hint of lemons.
“I’ll show you to the guest room,” Mason declares, looking oddly nervous.
“Is it close to your room?” I ask, voice huskier than I intended.
Mason looks up at me through his auburn eyelashes, that glorious flush working its way across his cheeks. “Across the hallway.”
I grunt in acceptance. “Okay. You can’t be on the first floor without me though.”
“But this is my house and I feel perfectly safe here. Also, you have the extra security and—”
“Hey.”
Mason’s eyes go wide as he stares at me in question.
“You’ll stay on the same floor as me always, got it?” I order, leaving no room for arguments.
His shoulders drop from around his ears as he nods in acceptance of my order.
He’s so different from Reid personality-wise, but I think there’s still that spark of fight in him.
Mason just doesn’t like to push it, which works for me.
I want to protect him and keep him safe without him questioning my every damn move.
I follow closely behind Mason as we climb the stairs.
The door to his room is closed, but he opens the door across from it and steps inside.
I take in the dark blue walls, dark wood bed frame, and muted light-yellow comforter, and something inside me gentles at the sight.
Mason is so soft behind his walls. No wonder I have such an urge to protect him, when he deserves protecting the most.
“The bathroom is through that door,” Mason says quietly while pointing at the other side of the room. “If you need anything, let me know and I’ll order it from the delivery service I use.”
“I packed anything I could need.”
Mason smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Even so, I kind of owe you for this, so if you need anything, it’s on me.”
What’s he talking about? Owing me? We’re practically family now… and I’m only doing what I’d do for anyone else. I’d protect anyone like this if it was needed. I think. I’m mostly sure, at least.
“Mace, you don’t owe me anything,” I say to reassure him.
Mason’s breath catches for a moment before he glances away from me to stare at the bed hard, like it’s personally offended him. “Okay. Well, just, whatever. If you need something, tell me. I’m going to go shower again and put some of my own clothes on now. I’ll see you… in a bit.”
I almost tell him not to because I want him to stay in my clothes, I want him to smell like me, but he’s gone before I can utter a single word.
What the fuck is going on with me? I distract myself from thoughts of Mason, the sounds of his shower running, by unpacking all of my belongings into the dresser and hanging my mission-ready clothes into the closet.
I keep my rifle in its case and stow it under the bed for easy access, at least until I need it next.
Since my door is open, the sound of Mason’s door reopening echoes through my own room.
I lean back on my heels to see him standing in his doorway, hair delightfully wet, making it look more bloodred than auburn.
He’s wearing these tight exercise pants and a baggy T-shirt that has a logo on it that I don’t recognize.
I point at his shirt in question. “What’s that?”
“Oh.” Mason blushes furiously. “It’s from The Goonies.”
“The what?”
Mason blinks and shakes his head, as if totally astounded at my question. “The Goonies… It’s a movie.”
“I’m not much of a movie guy.”
“Oh. Well. All right.”
“But we can watch it so I can see why you like it.”
That gorgeous blush I’m really starting to enjoy splashes across Mason’s cheeks and down his throat, sneaking under the shirt with The Goonies image on it.
He mumbles something I can’t quite make out, then starts to descend the stairs, but he seems to recall what I’d said earlier and pauses halfway down with his hand tight on the banister.
“Can we go downstairs?” Mason asks, eyes staring daggers into the bottom step. “I need some tea.”
“Sure, Mason.” I follow behind him like the agreeable guy I am.
My phone dings in my pocket, and I tug it out as I follow behind Mason into the kitchen.
Dante
Hayden and Jacob are unbearable when you’re not here
As if I keep them in line
Dante
No, but Jacob is too embarrassed for you to see him making constant moon eyes at Hayden
MOON EYES?
Dante
Oh brother
Forget it
Wait, are you saying…
Jacob wouldn’t do that. We have a rule.
Dante
What fucking rule, my dude?
That we won’t get involved with any of the guys in the house
Dante
…When did you make this rule
It was an agreement we made in the warehouse before even accepting the deal
Dante
Uhm
Lol
What?
Dante
No, just… that’s kind of funny. I was so hot you had to make a deal to keep your hands off of me?
You are delusional and insane
Also I’m straight
Dante
Everyone’s a little bit gay
What’s that mean
Dante
It means… enjoy your time with Mason. Maybe you’ll figure stuff out.
How did you know you liked Reid?
Dante
When I saw him dancing at the club, I knew I needed to have him, then he puked on my shoes and sealed the deal.
Weirdo
Dante
Maybe but I’d kill for Reid, in fact I have killed for Reid, and he’d chew through someone’s arm to protect me.
Weirdo(s)
Dante
Bye
Tell Hayden to call me when he has a chance
Dante
Fine. Bye.
I lift my head from where it’s been buried in my phone to find Mason standing uneasily at the stove, patiently waiting for the kettle to finish.
There’s a tension in his shoulders I hate, that I wish would disappear, but I don’t know how to put him at ease in my presence besides doing what I’ve been doing.
I knew how to calm him last night; it’s easy when he’s too far gone—just talk to him like a skittish horse.
But when he’s in between too far gone and happy as a clam, it’s difficult to find the right thing to say or do to bring him back.
I’m always worried I’ll misstep somehow and hurt him further.
“What are you worried about?” I ask him softly. Taking a seat at the table, Mason ignores my question to pour the water into mugs, finally dunking tea bags into each cup.
He lets out a pained sigh and slumps down into the chair opposite me, his hands carefully cupped around the mug. “I’m still trying to build those boxes in my head.”
Ah. “It gets easier with practice.”
I take a sip of the scalding hot tea, then grab the honey that sits in the middle of the dark oak table. Mason watches curiously as I add honey to the tea, and his mouth lifts at the corners slightly in amusement.
“So what’s the plan if you have one of your secret missions? Can I stay here alone?”
“Yes, but Hayden will watch the cameras.”
“Flawed plan,” Mason comments, dancing a delicate finger across the rim of his mug, back and forth. The movement is hypnotizing. “What about when there’s a mission and you’re all in on it.”
“You’ll go with us and stay in the car like last time.”
“You’re not going to shove me in the panic room at your place like Dante did to Reid?”
I take a small sip of tea to avoid answering.
The panic room had a flaw where it had been possible for someone to use heat on the hand scanner to mimic one of our hands.
It’s been fixed, and now the panic room only opens with a verbal password that someone can’t use a recording to imitate. The new procedure took weeks to test.
“I’ll put you in the panic room if I have to,” I say cautiously, hoping Mason picks up on the weight of my words.
I won’t think twice about putting him in there.
I’ll do anything to protect any of my brothers, and that means Mason by extension.
“But if I have a mission, Hayden will watch the cameras. I’ll put him on watch duty. ”
Mason makes a sound that’s a mix between a snort and a hum. “I guess you have it all figured out.”
“You’re sassier than I remember.”
Mason closes his eyes on a sigh. “This is how I am once the anxiety starts to ebb. I took a pill after I showered.”
I can feel my eyebrows furrow. The look on my face must be one of confusion because Mason chuckles and ruefully shakes his head.
“I take daily medication for my OCD. It helps a lot, but I’m not cured.
I have weekly therapy to help. It’s not fast acting but sometimes just taking the pill makes me feel better.
” Mason sighs and looks down at the table, looking more tired than I’ve ever seen him.
“Back when it was really bad, I had so many compulsions I almost flunked out of college. It took me an hour to do something that would take another person, like, five minutes. I’m still getting better but…
” Mason splays his hands on the table and shrugs. “Work in progress, I guess.”
“And the OCD…”
Mason shrugs again. “I definitely think I always had it, but cancer was the first trigger, then my parents dying just… intensified it.”
We finish our tea in silence. Despite the homework I need to finish, all the things I could do to double-check the safety of the alarm system I installed, or the way I could count the spray of freckles across Mason’s cheeks—I don’t do any of that.
Instead, I take our mugs to the sink, hand-wash them twice, then put them into the dishwasher.
When I turn back around, Mason is watching me with a confused, but thankful, sort of look. I smile at him, the same smile that calmed him the other night after he’d committed his first murder. Nodding toward the living room, I say, “Show me The Goonies?”
Mason’s face lights up like the Fourth of July.
We move to the living room and settle on the couch, far enough away from each other that we’re not touching, but close enough I can feel the heat of him.
I can’t help but watch him through most of the movie though.
Sometimes his lips move with the lines because he has them all memorized, and I find that more endearing than I should. Dangerously so.