10. Mason
Mason
I slam the truck door harder than I should and drop into the driver’s seat, the whole cab rocking with the force of it. My fist comes down on the steering wheel once, twice—thud, thud—hard enough that the horn gives a weak little bleat.
“Fuck,” I growl into the empty cab, jaw clenched so tight it aches. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!”
I hate this.
I hate that I let myself get wound this tight over some city asshole I’ve never even met.
Jealousy isn’t new to me, but this? This sharp, gnawing feeling in my gut every time I picture Luke sitting across from Patrick, listening to his smooth apologies, maybe remembering the good times before he turned into a controlling prick… it’s eating me alive.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and stare at the screen. My thumbs move before my brain catches up.
Mason: I’m sorry for being a moody bastard tonight. Shouldn’t have let it ruin the evening. You’re mine, little one. I trust you.
I read it back. Delete it. Try again…
Mason: Patrick’s a piece of shit but I know you can handle yourself. Just hate the idea of him anywhere near you. Call me if you need me.
No, too aggressive. Delete. Try again…
Mason: I want to come back. Let me hold you and remind you exactly who you belong to. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.
I stare at that last one for a long ten seconds, thumb hovering over send. Then I curse and delete it too.
I can’t do it.
Not right now.
Not while I’m this raw.
I toss the phone into the passenger seat like it burned me and crank the engine. The big diesel rumbles to life, and I pull away from the curb without looking back at Luke’s building. I know if I do, I’ll see him at the window, and I’ll cave.
The drive back to the cabin is a blur of dark forest road and headlights cutting through the trees. I can’t stop the thoughts from coming…
Luke and Patrick.
He said there was nothing left, but there must have been something once.
Boys don’t stay with assholes for that long unless there was charm, chemistry, history.
What if one coffee turns into two? What if the asshole apologizes just right, looks at Luke the way he deserves, and that old spark flickers back to life?
“Grrrrrrr.”
My hands tighten on the wheel until my knuckles go white. The truck surges forward as I floor the accelerator on a straight stretch. The engine roars, trees whipping past faster than they should.
I know I’m driving like an idiot, but the anger feels better than the helplessness. Better than imagining Luke laughing at one of Patrick’s jokes, remembering how he used to make him feel before he tore him down.
By the time I reach the cabin, the fury has burned down into a low, bitter simmer.
I kill the engine and sit there in the dark for a long time, listening to the ticks and pops as the truck cools. The lake is quiet, moonlight rippling on the water. Usually this view settles me. But tonight it just feels lonely.
Inside, I don’t bother with lights.
I kick off my boots, grab a beer from the fridge, and drop into the leather armchair by the cold fire.
One beer turns into two. Then three.
The alcohol does nothing to quiet my head. Every time I close my eyes I see Luke’s face from earlier—worried, guilty, trying so hard to reassure me. I should have pulled him close and told the boy it was fine.
Instead I shut down like a damn rookie and came over like a damn fool.
Eventually I drag myself upstairs, strip down, and fall into the big bed that still smells faintly of him from last night. Sleep doesn’t come. I toss and turn, punching the pillow, staring at the wooden beams on the ceiling. The clock on the nightstand flips past midnight...
One.
Two.
This ain’t good.
At three in the morning I’m still wide awake, chest tight, mind spinning in useless circles. I grab my phone from the nightstand and turn it on. The screen lights up the dark room. No new messages from Luke. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.
My thumbs move across the keyboard before I can talk myself out of it…
Mason: Hey little one. Woke up with a cold coming on. Head’s pounding. Probably best we skip training this morning so I don’t get you sick. Catch you soon.
I hit send, then immediately power the phone off completely.
No notifications. No temptation to check if he replies. Just silence.
I lie back down and stare at the ceiling again, one arm thrown over my eyes. The quiet of the cabin presses in on me. For the first time since I met him, I wonder if getting involved with Luke was a mistake.
The boy is young. Twenty-six. Full of life, sass, dreams. He’s got his friends, his Little side, his whole world here in Hardrock Park.
And me? I’m forty-three, married to a job that takes me away for months at a time. What the hell am I offering him? Stolen weeks? A few intense training sessions and nights where I fuck him senseless and then disappear again?
The brilliant young man deserves stability. Someone who can be there every day. Someone who doesn’t turn into a jealous asshole the second his toxic ex texts him.
I roll onto my side, punching the pillow again.
The thought of Luke meeting Patrick tomorrow—or whenever—twists something ugly in my chest. Not because I don’t trust the boy.
I do. But because I know how these things go.
One conversation can reopen old wounds. Old feelings can come back to life.
And I’ll be stuck out on a rig in the middle of nowhere, unable to do a damn thing about it.
Maybe it would be better if I pulled back now. Before either of us gets in too deep. Before I fall any harder and end up hurting Luke when I inevitably have to leave again.
The idea sits like lead in my stomach. I picture his face when I told the boy I’d spot him, the way he called me Daddy in the stockroom, the way he looked riding my face in front of the fire. The trust in his eyes. The way he melts for me.
“Fuck,” I mutter into the darkness.
I want him.
Badly.
I want the boy more than I’ve wanted anything in years. But wanting Luke and being good for him are two different things. And right now, with this jealousy still burning under my skin and four months on the rig looming, I’m not sure I’m the man he needs.
I close my eyes and try to force sleep, but it doesn’t come. The ceiling stares back at me, blank and unforgiving, while my mind keeps replaying every moment with Luke on a loop.
By the time the sky outside starts to lighten toward dawn, I still haven’t slept. And I still don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.
* * *
The morning light feels too bright as I push through the door of the diner.
My head is pounding from lack of sleep, and the scent of coffee and bacon does little to improve my mood.
I spot Kaleb and Connor already in our usual booth near the window.
They’re laughing about something until they see me.
Their expressions shift almost instantly.
“Jesus, man,” Kaleb says as I slide in across from them. “You look like you got hit by a logging truck. Rough night?”
I grunt, grabbing the menu even though I always order the same thing.
Rosie appears with a mug and pours me coffee without asking. Black, strong, no bullshit. Exactly what I need.
“Something like that,” I mutter, staring into the dark liquid.
Connor leans forward, elbows on the table. “This about Luke? You two seemed solid last night when we saw you at the Lantern.”
I take a long sip of coffee, scalding my tongue on purpose. The burn feels grounding. “Yeah. It’s about him.” I set the mug down harder than necessary. “Luke got a text from his ex Patrick. The asshole from the city. He wants to ‘make amends.’ Take my boy for coffee. Closure or some shit.”
Both of them go quiet for a beat.
Kaleb lets out a low whistle. “And how did that land with you?”
“Like a fucking grenade.” I rub a hand over my face, the stubble rough under my palm. “I shut down on him. Got all stiff and moody. Walked the damn boy home in silence, barely kissed him goodnight. Felt like a jealous prick the whole time and hated myself for it.”
Connor nods slowly, sympathy in his eyes.
“I get it,” Connor begins. “When Milo first told me about some guy from his past who kept trying to slide back in, I wanted to put my fist through a wall. Jealousy hits different when it’s your Little.”
“Yeah, well, I let it rule me last night,” I admit. “He kept reassuring me he has no feelings for him. That he was toxic. But the second he said his name, all I could picture was them sitting together, old spark coming back. Luke remembering why he stayed with him in the first place.”
Kaleb shakes his head. “You gotta be there for Luke, brother. Support him. Not let your emotions run wild and push him away. He’s trusting you with this. If you go full caveman, he might start hiding shit from you just to keep the peace.”
“I know,” I say, staring out the window at the quiet main strip. “You’re right. Both of you. A little jealousy is normal. But I can’t let it turn me into an asshole. He deserves better than that.”
Connor reaches over and claps me on the shoulder. “Exactly. Boys need support and care, especially when old ghosts show up. Handle your feelings, but don’t let them handle you. Be the steady Daddy he can lean on.”
I nod, some of the tension in my chest easing.
These two have been through it.
They get it.
“There’s just… something about this Patrick guy,” I say. “I’ve never met him, but I know he’s a piece of shit. The way Luke talks about him… how Patrick made him doubt his own abilities, controlled him. Makes me want to drive to the city and have a conversation he won’t forget.”
Kaleb chuckles darkly. “I feel you. But right now, all you can do is be there for Luke. Listen. Support whatever decision he makes about meeting him. And be ready to pick up the pieces if it goes south. That’s what being his Daddy means.”
We eat in relative silence after that. Steak and eggs for me, pancakes for Kaleb, the works for Connor. The food helps, but the bigger weight is still sitting on me.
“Truth is,” I say finally, pushing my empty plate away, “with me heading back to the rig in a few weeks… I don’t know what the future holds for me and Luke.
Four months away. Coming home to what? A boy who has been seeking solace from an ex?
Pffft. And even if he wasn’t, how the hell is that fair to Luke?
He’s building a life here. I’m just… passing through. ”
Connor and Kaleb exchange a look.
“That’s a heavy one,” Connor says. “But you’ve got time. Don’t make decisions out of fear. Talk to him. Figure it out together.”
Kaleb drains his coffee and grins. “And in the meantime, you need to get out of your own head. The three of us should hit the Hardrock Healing Club. Sauna, cold plunge, sweat that jealousy and worry right out of you.”
I let out a wry chuckle, the first real one all morning.
“Hell, why not?” I laugh. “What’s the worst that could happen? I freeze my balls off and still feel like shit?”
“Exactly,” Kaleb says, slapping the table. “Let’s do it. The three Daddies together. Kicking ass, sweating bullets, and freezing are damn dicks off too. Taron’s got the boys today anyway.”
I nod, tossing some bills on the table.
As we head out, some of the tension has lifted. Not gone, but manageable.
I still need to fix things with Luke—apologize properly, be the man he deserves. But for now, sweating it out with my brothers sounds like the right next step.
The clock is ticking on my time here.
I just hope as far as Luke is concerned I haven’t already fucked things up beyond repair…