He was silent for a few seconds. “Betrayed. I was in love with her, and she didn’t trust me. She asked her best friend to take her to the clinic instead of me.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“I don’t know what we would’ve decided if she’d told me before she went to the clinic,” he said. “I wasn’t ready to be a father or a husband. I really don’t know what I would’ve wanted. But she took away my chance to be a part of it.”
“Did you tell her how you felt?”
“Yeah. I moved out and that was the end of us. But I had lots of resentment. It was deeper than resentment, really. More like rage. I felt out of control inside. I needed . . . something. There were a couple nights in a row when I got blackout drunk and I realized if I didn’t find some other way to escape, I’d end up an alcoholic. So I started fighting.”
He paused, and the silence gave me a few seconds to think about his presence in my bed.
In my bed.
Mason was less than two feet away, his height causing his feet to hang off the end of my bed. I didn’t detect his cologne tonight; instead he smelled like a mixture of sweaty clothes and leather. But that was okay, because it was him. He was here, and I was pretty sure he was here because he’d come home to be with me.
“I started boxing freshman year of high school,” he continued. “Me and my brothers were either playing basketball or boxing pretty much all the time. They all got basketball scholarships, but I took an academic one. I started sparring at the college gym, and I met some guys who told me about . . . kind of an underground fighting thing. The fights were held at an abandoned warehouse. So I did a couple, and I won.”
“Was it . . . boxing?” I asked.
I saw him shrug in the darkness. “Not really. More of a gloves off, street fighting kind of thing. No rules except don’t kill the other guy.”
I cringed at the image. “Sounds dangerous.”
“Only for the guys who have no business fighting.”
His fingers brushed over mine in the darkness. Just that contact made me tingle with awareness. I liked this Mason. A lot. I found smooth, confident Mason sexy as hell, but emotionally open Mason was irresistible.
“There was this guy we called Bruno who was the bookmaker for the fights. He was in his forties and none of us really knew much about him. He just took the money and the bets and paid everyone off after the fights. I’d been fighting for a few months when he approached me and asked if I’d like to work for him. I didn’t need the money, but I was intrigued by the challenge. He wanted me to win or lose fights based on whichever he told me to do. And the thought of those stakes . . . it was an adrenaline rush. Because if I was supposed to win a fight and I lost it, I’d have been in deep shit with Bruno.”
I didn’t understand his logic, but I had a twisted respect for his gut feelings. I saw the corners of his lips turn up in a small smile.
“And in the end, my downfall was the opposite.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I was fighting a guy I’d never fought before. But the guy was ripped. He had twenty pounds on me. I thought he was a badass. Bruno told me to throw the fight, and I figured it’d take less than five minutes. But I had to make it look authentic, so I traded a few hits with the guy. I accidentally knocked him out and won the fight.”
My jaw fell open as I listened. I pictured college student Mason, likely terrified out of his mind when his opponent didn’t get up.
“So yeah, deep shit,” he said. “Bruno said I had to make him whole for the money he lost.”
“Did you have it?”
He shook his head. “It was ten grand. I had maybe five hundred bucks at the time.”
“What did you do?”
“I thought about borrowing it from Kyle, but he was a surgical resident with a pregnant wife and I wasn’t sure he could spare that kind of cash. I sure as hell couldn’t borrow that kind of money from my parents. So . . .”
He turned away from me and stared up at the ceiling. “Damn, April. This is hard. I don’t want you to think less of me.”
I found his hand in the semi-darkness and squeezed it. “It’ll be okay. Just say it, whatever it is.”
“Bruno told me I could work it off.”
“With more fighting?”
He took in a deep breath and let it out. “No. I had to collect money for him. Only, the reason I got sent out was because the people couldn’t pay it, so my job was to convince them their lives depended on coming up with it.”
“You . . . beat people up?” My tone was full of the shock I felt. It didn’t seem like something Mason would do.
“I’m not proud of it, but yeah. Only men, and they were all douchebag criminals, but still. I hated it. A twenty-one year old in prime condition shouldn’t be fucking up a middle-aged guy with a beer belly. I believe in fair fights, and those weren’t fair.”
Silence hung in the air. Mason rolled over onto his back.
“I can’t believe I told you all that,” he said. “I’ve never told anyone that stuff.”
“Thank you for trusting me.”
“Do you think less of me?” He turned his head to the side so he could see my face.
“No.”
“Is that because you already thought so little of me that it’s not possible to think less?”
I smiled and poked him in the ribs. “No. But I don’t understand how this is related to why you’re a mess right now. Are you still involved with Bruno?”
“Oh, hell no. I worked for him for two months and then I was out forever. But some of the guys I’d met through fighting became friends, and we still did fights. About five years ago, seven of us formed an . . . organization; I guess you could call it. We have a place where we host fights, and all of us fight there.”
“In Boston?”
“Yeah.”
“So you fight each other? For fun? That’s what you were there for?”
“Yeah. I know it probably sounds crazy, but it’s still a release for me.”
I was afraid to ask the question on my mind, but my need to know won out.
“Is it still about Daphne?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that. But what happened with her . . . it changed me.”
“How?”
“I’ve never put my heart out there to get pulverized again. And there have been times when I’ve gone to Bellator to remind myself what it felt like.”
“Physical pain reminds you of it?”
“No. It’s more like I go there to escape, I guess.”
“To escape what?”
“Everything. I guess . . . if I’m being honest, it’s to escape feeling.”
His tone was weary. Between fighting and unexpectedly traveling home, he had to be exhausted. I was physically worn out but mentally on high alert. I hadn’t been in bed next to a man in a very long time, and I’d never been this close to one so openly, unabashedly sexy.
“Well, my lips are sealed,” I promised him.
“That’s a damn shame,” he mumbled into his pillow.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said, a smile in his voice. “Just a bad joke.”
“Are you . . . falling asleep?”
“Mmm-hmm. Your bed smells good.”
“You could smell better,” I admitted. “I mean, you usually do.”
“I was just thinking about getting here,” he mumbled against the bed. “You want me to take a shower?”
“No. Just rest.”
His breathing evened out and I reached over to run my fingertips over his short beard. It was surprisingly soft.
Kind of like he was.
THE DULL POUNDING SOUND was getting louder, and I buried my head under a pillow to drown it out.
“Mason! I’m coming in, so if you’re not dressed you’d better get dressed quick.”
It was a dude. That got my attention. I raised my head, groaning from the pain. I hurt all over.
Where was I? I rubbed my eyes and
saw a beautiful woman asleep next to me, her dark brown curls spilling across her pillow. Her black eye reminded me why I was here, igniting fresh anger.
April. I was in April’s bed. We’d only talked last night, but I reached for my thigh and patted it to be safe. I had my jeans on. I’d never even gotten undressed.
“Mason?”
Now the voice was coming through a crack in the door, and I recognized it as my brother Reed’s.
“Yeah,” I said, sounding as groggy as I felt. “I’m right here. What’s wrong?”
He stepped in.
“I’m sorry for interrupting,” he said. “You’re both fully clothed, right?”
“We’re just sleeping.” I let my head fall back to the pillow.
“Hmm.” April shifted next to me, still not fully awake. My cock stirred at the sound of her sleepy moan. Her hair looked really sexy all loose and untamed.
“What the hell happened to you?” Reed asked in a low whisper, walking across the room toward me.
Shit. My face. I wondered how he could see anything in the darkened room.
“I was sparring at the gym in Boston,” I said, rolling onto my back.
“With who, the Hulk? You look like you got jumped by a bunch of guys with crowbars.”
He didn’t sound concerned, but pissed.
“I didn’t get jumped by anyone,” I said, irritated. “What time is it?”
“Seven.”
I groaned. “Feels earlier.”
“What happened to your face? And why did I have to hear about it from Ivy and come over here to drag it out of you?”
April made another sleepy sound and opened her eyes.
“Reed!” She pulled the covers up over her chest even though she was fully dressed. “What are you doing here?”
He put his hands out in a gesture of apology. “I’m really sorry. I made sure you guys were decent first.”
April gave me a look of alarm, seeming to realize I was in her bed for the first time.
“Of course we’re decent,” she said, her cheeks skipping pink and turning crimson immediately. “We just fell asleep talking.”
“We’ll be upstairs soon,” I said to Reed.
“You better be.” He started for the door and then turned back. “You, I mean. You don’t just show up looking like that and think no one’s gonna care.”
He made it to the door before turning back around. “April, I apologize again. I’m just worried about my brother. And I hope you’re feeling better today. You need to stay in bed and rest. Ivy’s coming over to help out after she drops Noah off.”
Reed closed the door behind him, leaving April and me alone. When I looked over at her, she still had the covers clutched protectively around her chest. She stared straight ahead, apparently not wanting to even look at me. Where was the woman who had reached for my hand last night as I spilled my guts to her?
After a few seconds, I pushed the covers aside and got out of bed. I’d thought sharing my secret with April would bring us closer, but apparently it had done the opposite.
When I got up to the kitchen, Reed was leaning against the island, arms crossed.
“Well?” he said expectantly.
“Well what?”
“Who beat the shit out of you, Mason?”
I sighed with aggravation. “I sparred with a beast yesterday, alright? You know some hits look worse that they are. I’m fine.”
He stared at me, looking unconvinced.
“Were you drunk or something? I just can’t see anybody getting in that many hits against you.”
“I’m out of practice, man. My job keeps me really damn busy.” I looked around the kitchen. “Where’s the coffee?”
The basement door opened and April stepped through. I wanted to search her eyes for some explanation about the sudden awkwardness, but she wouldn’t even look at me.
“Coffee’s in the canister next to the coffee pot,” she said. “I’m heading out.”
“Out?” I said, incredulous. “I’ll come with you. Colton hasn’t been picked up by the cops yet.”
She smiled weakly. “I’m going to get breakfast and mail some letters. I’ll be okay.”
“I’ll make you breakfast.”
Finally, she met my eyes. “It’s okay. I’ll be back soon.”
I crossed my arms and leaned my back against the island next to Reed. There was silence until the door closed and we were alone.
“Make her breakfast?” Reed asked. “Who are you and what have you done with my douchebag womanizing brother?”
I exhaled deeply. “I don’t know.”
“Did you sleep with her last night?”
“No. I’ve had these clothes on since yesterday.”
He pushed off the island and walked over to the coffee pot. “You wanted me to come over this morning so you could go get your stuff, so here I am.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll take a shower at home, too. Give me half an hour.”
I went downstairs to get my car keys, stopping to look at the disheveled pale purple sheets and white comforter on April’s bed. We’d slept next to each other all night and had hardly even touched. That was a first for me.
And yet, last night had probably been the most intimate I’d even been with a woman. Giving someone my body was one thing, but sharing the pain I’d been carrying for nine years . . . I’d never even considered doing that with anyone but April.
She was a good person who wouldn’t hurt a soul. And I’d gone and told her I fought for fun. I’d probably just driven her even further out of reach.
GENE’S DINER WAS NEARLY full when I walked in. I loved the down-home, vintage feel of this place. The black and white checkered floor and red upholstered bar stools weren’t an effort at a throwback look; they were original.
Customers in everything from overalls to suits talked to friends over breakfast, many of them openly staring at me as I made my way to a small table by the front window. I’d known my injured face would draw some attention, but getting out of the house was more important. Waking up next to Mason was messing with my head and my heart, not to mention a few other body parts.
Gene’s wife Margie was at my side as soon as I sat down.
“April, Honey,” she said, her brow furrowed with concern. “We heard what happened.”
“Really? It was just last night.”
“Word travels fast in Lovely,” she said, bending down to examine my face. “What in the world possessed someone to do this to you? Was he one of those meth heads?”
I shrugged. “I’m okay, Margie. Thank you for your concern.”
“It took guts to stand up for that girl,” she said, smoothing a hand over my hair. “I’m real proud of you.”
Tears stung my eyes. Had anyone ever said that to me? If my parents ever had, which I doubted, I’d been a young child and had long forgotten it. Margie was Ivy’s surrogate mom, and her praise meant a lot. I’d had principals compliment me when I was teaching, but this was different. Margie’s kind words weren’t about my work, but me as a person.
“Thank you,” I said, clearing my throat in an effort to regain my composure.
“Now what can I get you for breakfast? Gene just took some cinnamon rolls out of the oven.”
My stomach rumbled as she spoke. “That sounds good. And maybe some eggs? And coffee?”
“You got it,” she said, flipping over the clean, upside-down white mug on my table.
I took a deep breath, hoping to clear my head. Mason had opened up to me last night, and I was reeling. Having him climb into my bed naked would have been less intimate than his confessions about his past. And present.
He’d shared something no one else knew about him. And what he’d shared . . . my heart had broken for him. Daphne had done more than betray him; she’d left him wounded and unable to trust. Mason’s admission that he fought to keep from feeling was powerful.
I’d wanted him. It was shameful that my hormones would surge to life as he was tel
ling me an intimate personal truth. But I’d woken up in the night wanting to slide on top of him and feel his warm, solid body beneath me. I’d wanted to comfort him, sure, but I also just wanted him.
And I hated it. We were becoming friends, which was good. But I couldn’t lust after him. I couldn’t be a one-night stand he later regretted when he realized he’d latched on to the nearest warm body.
The deep, exaggerated sound of someone clearing his throat next to my table made me turn. A stocky man in khakis, his crossed arms revealing yellow armpit stains on his white dress shirt, was glaring down at me.
“So you’re the new girl at that home for unwed mothers,” he said, his lips set in a thin, disapproving line.
I wanted to roll my eyes, but I held back. Margie approached and silently poured my coffee, her eyes flickering to mine with a sympathetic look.
“Mornin’, Paul,” she said, nodding to him before gliding to the next table to offer coffee refills.
“I am,” I confirmed, hoping to avoid further conversation with Paul.
“I’m the mayor,” he said, standing a little taller as he spoke the words. “And I was against the Lockharts bringing those girls to Lovely.”
“Two of them are from Lovely.”
He grunted. “Well, the others. The last thing we need to be doing is endorsing immorality.”
“What’s immoral about pregnancy?”
His brows shot up. “They’re unwed teenagers.”
“Well, weddings wouldn’t solve a thing, now, would they?” I couldn’t keep the annoyance out of my tone. “These girls need care and support so they can finish school, have healthy babies and care for them. A wedding ring provides no help with any of that.”
He shook his head and gave me a disgusted look. “There was a time when such behavior was frowned upon. Things were taken care of quietly, or the boys stepped up and took responsibility.”
I hoped my curt tone implied that I was losing patience with this conversation. “The girls at the house have my full support, whatever their decisions are. And they’ve earned my respect by keeping their grades up and working if they’re able.”
His eyes bulged. “But look at you, face beat up by some no-good boyfriend of one of those girls. It’s a disgrace.”
In Deep Page 7
