FALLEN CREST FOREVER (Fallen Crest #7)

Chapter Two

Mason was driving, and I couldn’t stop from looking over and studying him. He wasn’t a boy anymore, not that he’d ever seemed like one. He was a man, and he was going to be my husband. It left me in awe. Forever. Though when had that word not been used to describe Mason and me? Never. But there was still a little voice in the back of my head that worried about repeating our parents’ actions.

“What’s wrong?” Mason asked.

“What?”

He gave me a half-grin, one hand on the steering wheel. “You seem like something’s wrong. Is it the engagement stuff?”

“Yeah.” I pressed a hand to my stomach. There were butterflies in there. “Does that bother you?”

“What? That my dad was a piss-poor husband or that your mom was psycho before?”

“Both.” I turned in my seat, pulling up one of my legs so I could sit sideways with the seatbelt still in place. I rested my head against the seat, watching him fully now.

His lips were perfect. I loved brushing mine against his, feeling his body tighten under my touch. His jawline—oh holy f**k, his jawline. It was strong, and it had made me weak in the knees too many times to count. His eyes, beautiful green that could look right into me. He would turn, see my eyes, and slide inside where he could read my soul. It had been like that in the beginning. It still was.

I never wanted him to stop seeing me.

And his black hair, it was newly trimmed back into a crew cut, but there was just the smallest amount for me to grab hold of it. That only made me salivate more for him. When he held himself above me, his eyes darkening in lust, his shoulders rippling from my touch, I loved how every part of him was defined and cut like a sculpture. He did it for football, training so many hours each day, and the thought of that made my heart hurt.

Football.

Everything would work out.

The league would let him play. He was Mason f*****g Kade. He was a star wide receiver on Cain University’s team, and he was mentioned on ESPN regularly. His draft was this year. Someone would take him. They’d be stupid if they didn’t.

I reached over and placed my hand on his where it rested on his leg. “It’ll get sorted out. You know it.”

He didn’t comment, just turned his palm upward and laced his fingers with mine.

I remembered what he’d said just before he proposed: that he was f****d. That the NFL doesn’t do scandals, and a video of Mason Kade beating the s**t out of someone was one of those. It wouldn’t matter to them if he’d been protecting me, not once they opened up his record and started digging. There was a lot there. Mason and Logan had been fighting and setting cars on fire long before I came into their lives. They never bullied, but if they were hurt, they would hurt back. That was their rule. They reacted, rather than incited.

I knew they’d continue to do so, but there had to be a change. Mason tried before, and he learned to be smarter when he was defending himself. He slipped this summer and returned to the violence, but that was done.

They’d be smarter. They had to . . .

“Stop worrying,” he said.

“Hmmm?” I’d been staring at him, lost in my own head.

“You’re worrying. I can feel it.” His hand squeezed mine. “I believe you.”

My head lifted from the seat. “You do?”

“Yeah.” He glanced sideways at me, grinning again.

God—that mouth.

“You said everything will get sorted,” he added. “You’re usually right. I believe you.”

My heart pounded against my chest. “Good.” My voice was breathless. I don’t know why it affected me so much to have Mason believe in me. Mason always believed in me.

Whatever the reason, I was going to follow through. I knew Mason and Logan—even their father—would do anything necessary to ensure Mason’s future in football, but so would I.

My throat was full so I could only whisper, “I love you.” The feeling swept over me, leaving me renewed and invigorated.

He winked, his grin morphing into a smirk. “I know.”

I pretended to hit his arm, and the smirk turned serious. “I love you too,” he said.

Logan sent a couple text messages as we traveled, with the last one telling us to go right to Taylor’s house. We passed the exit that would’ve taken us to our house, and it wasn’t long before we pulled up at the large home where Taylor had grown up, but it wasn’t Logan or Taylor who met us at the door.

Taylor’s father, who was in his early forties, opened the door. He was a good-looking man with sandy brown hair. He kept himself trim, which made sense because he was also one of Mason’s coaches.

The two regarded each other.

Mason readied himself, adopting an unreadable mask and lifting himself to his fullest height. He never cowered for anyone. He wasn’t going to start now, but I knew he was tense. He respected Taylor’s father, Coach Bruce, nicknamed Coach Broozer. And Coach Broozer wasn’t looking very happy.

Finally, the coach moved back, and Mason and I stepped inside. He nodded to me as I passed, following Mason.

“Let’s go to the kitchen.” Coach Broozer led the way.

We walked through the small front entrance hallway and past the living room and stairs before turning in to the kitchen. I got the distinct impression no one else was home.

Broozer indicated the chairs in the dining room. “Take a seat.”

“I thought my brother was here,” Mason said.

“No.” He gestured to the kitchen. “Either of you want water or something else to drink? I can make a pot of coffee, or we have Gatorade. Mason?”

Mason sat at the far end of the table. I sat next to him.

“Nothing for me,” he said.

“Sam?”

I shook my head. I had a feeling we wouldn’t be here long.

“Why’d Logan tell me to come here first?”

Taylor’s father poured himself a glass of water and took his time settling into his chair. He took the far end, closest to the kitchen and opposite Mason and me. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and paused another few seconds before taking a deep breath. His hands cupped his water glass, and he looked down, almost like he was going to talk to the table.

“It’s not the greatest, Kade.”

Mason’s jaw clenched.

“Logan said your case was thrown out, and I called the FCPD,” he continued. “They confirmed what he said, so I talked to the head coach, and he agreed. The whole department agreed. You’re back in time to start practicing with the team, so you won’t be suspended. Your case was dropped. There’s no reason to punish you further, but I have to warn you . . .” His voice dropped ominously. “If word gets out about this video, or it gets leaked online and stirs up a fuss, we may have to handle it appropriately.”

“I’m good as long as no one knows about it or gets upset about it?” Mason’s jaw clenched. “Otherwise you’ll have to punish me to save face. Is that what you’re saying?”

Broozer’s eyes twitched before he nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“It’s the hand you’re dealt. You haven’t helped. That video was horrifying to watch. I know your reputation, and if a reporter starts digging, you could be made into an example.”

“An example of what?”

Broozer leaned forward, his eyes no-nonsense. “Of every other rich prick who gets away with murder.”

“I was protecting my girlfriend.”

“That’s not what they’re going to think.” He pointed out the window. “All those people who hate the wealthy and privileged. They ain’t going to see you as a guy who steps up and protects his loved ones. They’ll see your pretty face, find out how rich your daddy is, and see your record of violence. You’ll be slapped on the front of a magazine as the asshole who ‘got off.’ They won’t take the time to be educated about the real issue.”

Mason leaned back in his chair.

I eyed him. He didn’t look upset, but he didn’t show anything. He was closed off. Coach was being honest, and I knew Mason appreciated that, but I understood his frustration. It sucked. He couldn’t relax, knowing Caldron and Adam were behind him. Both douchebags from the summer were still hanging over his head.

I touched his leg under the table, and he looked at me from the corner of his eye. His hands remained locked together on top of the table, but his leg angled closer to me.

We heard car doors slam outside, and all looked over. We couldn’t see through the window from where we were, but Logan’s voice quickly carried over the distance.

“Look.” Coach Broozer straightened in his seat. He pointed toward the table and jabbed it twice. “I know what kind of kid my daughter is dating, and I know the lengths he’d go to for his brother. You can’t say a word of this to him. This could all go away if we don’t do a damned thing. You got it? If Logan knows, he’ll do something. He won’t be able to help it. He means well, but he could really f**k up your life if you don’t handle him right.”

Mason didn’t have time to reply.

The door opened, and Logan’s voice boomed through the house. “Mason! Sam! You guys beat us.” He was trailing behind Taylor as they walked around the corner. His arms spread wide. “So, what’s up my compadres?” He clapped a hand on Coach Broozer’s shoulder. “What’s up, Pop-n-Lock?”

“Pop-n-Lock?” Broozer echoed, his eyebrows drawing together. He turned toward Taylor. “Do I dare ask?”

She rolled her eyes, going to the fridge. “He started off calling you Pop-n-Law. That turned into Pop-n-Lock somewhere.”

Logan barked out a laugh and smacked the table. “You guys are back. Broozer had good news for you, didn’t he?” He rounded on his Pop-n-Lock. “What did you say to my brother? I thought he was off the hook.”

Taylor’s father opened his mouth, but Mason spoke first.

“I am, if no one makes a big deal out of it.”

Broozer shot Mason a dark look. “There went that whole plan of keeping quiet.”

Mason sent a look back just as quick. “Like I’m going to keep something from my brother.”

“Wait.” Logan frowned. He held a finger up, pausing as he looked from Pop-n-Lock to Mason and back again. “I’ll ignore whatever that was about. No one? Like, no one no one?”

“The opposite of anyone,” Mason said.

Logan gave his brother a look. “You know what I mean. We’re f****d. Everyone gets pissed at us. What about partying tonight?”

“Here’s a thought.” Coach Broozer’s tone turned sarcastic. “Why don’t you try not to get in trouble?” He took his water over to the sink. As he passed his daughter, he ran a hand down her arm, and they exchanged loving smiles. “And on that note, I have football tapes calling my name.” He clapped Mason on the shoulder. “Keep your head down. Don’t listen to that i***t brother of yours—”

“Hey!” Logan called, but he didn’t sound like he minded the statement.

“—And I’ll see you at practice Monday morning.”

Mason nodded. “Thanks, Coach.”

“Anytime.” He pointed at Logan. “Protect my girl. She’s my soul.”

Logan’s chest puffed up. “Always.”

Then Coach left us alone, disappearing back into the house.

Logan smirked, going right back to where he’d left off. “What about partying? Nate’s ready to throw a rager. We were going to do one at home, but we’re all up here now.”

Mason stood, taking my hand in his. “We’re going to have the party tonight, but whatever trouble your friend is in, I might have to sit this one out.” He looked carefully from Taylor to Logan.

Logan’s lips formed a flat line.

Taylor nodded. “That’s completely and understandably fine,” she said, looking at Logan. “This is about your future.”

Mason nodded.

I felt relieved.

The only one who seemed to want to protest was Logan. His eyes found mine and narrowed. “You haven’t said a word. What do you think?”

I frowned. “About what?”

“What I need help with. Those guys are assholes. They almost put Delray in the hospital.”

“You’re kind of exaggerating.” Taylor bit her lip and looked at me. “But Jason was hurt bad. And I do think they’ll do it again.”

“Decision made. We go and f**k ’em up instead,” Logan announced.

“Yeah, without me,” Mason countered. “I can’t fight. Probably never again.”

“Come on. For real?”

“Yes,” Mason ground out. His hand tightened over mine, and I looked up in concern. Logan was pushing him. Mason always wanted to be there to cover his brother’s back, but he couldn’t. He had to stay under the radar, and it was killing him.

I moved in front of him, pulling my hand free. I folded my arms over my chest and felt Mason’s hands fall to my waist. “Stop it, Logan.”

“Stop what?”

“Being a dumbass. You’re looking for trouble because you’re bored. You know it.”

He bristled. “Delray was beat up. Taylor’s mine, so that means he’s mine. How can I—”

“There are other ways!” My patience snapped. “And fine, whatever. Go beat the s**t out of them, but stop making Mason feel guilty about it. If you want his help, do it another way. If you don’t, then respect his decision.”

Taylor laughed. “I just got a glimpse into your guys’ future. Logan trying to get s**t going, Mason trying to be smart about it, and Samantha finally delivering the last word on it.” She whistled under her breath, giving her boyfriend a wolfish grin. “You guys will never lead boring lives. Ever.”

Logan shot a grin back, moving to the kitchen and scooping an arm around her waist. He pulled her against him, half lifting her in the air. “Only because you’re going to be there right with us.” He wrapped his other arm around her and buried his face in her neck.

She shrieked in laughter, hitting his arm. “You know that tickles. Stop it!”

Logan pulled back, a pleased look on his face, and grinned down at her. “Just wait till we get back to my place. I’ll show you what tickles. I’ll show you real deep how some things can tickle.”

Then he glanced around, a teasing smile on his face. “Are we ready to party?”

We were ready to party.