Page 72 of Mason

My eyes drift from him to the passing marshland, realizing he missed the turnoff to the country road cutting into the park. I glance back at him, unease pricking the hairs on the back of my neck. “Where are we going? The cabin’s back...”

His attention stays glued on the road ahead and he signals to turn on the expressway. “Home. The cabin’s already taken care of. Grady will be ready for his funeral. Mom just needs to give me the information.”

I eye him, grabbing the oh-shit handle when he takes the turn a little too sharply. “I don’t know how to contact you.”

“We’re talking to them together, Mason.” He grips the wheel, white-knuckling the leather for a moment before patting it soothingly. “You’re not doing this alone.”

* * *

The truck eases into my parents’ driveway a little after 8AM.

The hour-long drive left a lot of time for reflection and subsequent self-loathing, but it also meant nearly every pharmaceutical in my veins has dulled to where I just want my left shoulder to detach from my body. What I thought was pain before turns out to be a paper cut compared to this.

I lead the way in the back door, nodding at Paulie and Leo, who look uneasily at Dixon following close behind.

The kitchen’s quiet. The stench of burned coffee hangs in the air, the coffee pot Dad refuses to part with still churning out liquid magma.

“Hasn’t changed.” Dixon sighs, shaking his head as he settles into the space. He hasn’t been in the house since he and Dad had their blowup, an argument over sports dissolving into Dad shooting him like a fucking maniac.

Mom’s perfume drifts in before she does, the flowery scent matching the rose-patterned wrap dress she’s wearing. She’s oblivious to our presence, hurrying into the kitchen with an armful of dishes that she immediately drops when her eyes land on Dixon. The pieces shatter, but she doesn’t bat an eyelash.

“Oh, dear God!” She looks between us, focusing on my arm sling. She steps over the mess, her eyes drowning in tears when she reaches for Dixon, hauling him in for a hug. “My boy!”

I’m a little miffed that neither Paulie nor Leo comes in to investigate the shattered glass. Dad, too. I don’t care if we’re here. They’re assigned to protect, not ignore.

Mom pulls her head away from Dix’s chest for a moment to study me. “What happened to you?”

Memories of Grady shooting me play on a loop, followed immediately by him lying on the floor, gasping his dying breaths. I shake them away. “We need to have a talk. Where’s Dad?”

She nods toward his office. “He’s on a call. Miserable this morning.”

Dixon laughs, stepping away. “When isn’t he?”

Mom’s eyes dart between us again, and she stiffens, crossing her arms over her chest. “Where’s Grady?”

Dixon’s the only one in the room who knows the exact answer, but he doesn’t voice it. Instead, he threads his fingers in hers, squeezing gently, and throws Mom a ball she can’t resist chasing. “Do you have any of that tea you used to always make?”

The bait works, and Mom moves to prep tea while Dixon and I head to the office.

Dad’s still on the phone when we walk in, and the moment his eyes hit the doorway and see the two of us standing there, I swear they roll back in his head. “I need to go,” he says, hanging up and throwing his cell phone to the desktop. “Make it fast and make sure your mother doesn’t find me.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not here to hurt you, you old bastard. I need to talk with you about Spencer.”

“Grady did it,” Dad grumbles, and I have to grab the seat in front of me for support. “I knew the moment I saw Spencer laying in that bed. It was a coward’s move.”

My fingers sink into the leather, and I want to slam the chair into the floor until it splinters into a thousand pieces. “If you knew, why didn’t you…”

He blows out a ragged breath. “None of this matters anymore. Spencer’s gone. Grady’s a murderer. You want me dead. Keeping him liquored up here is easier than doing what needs to be done.”

“It’s done,” I say solemnly, and Dad’s eyes flick to mine.

“It’s done?” he repeats, spitting the words like they’re a language he’s never heard before. He looks to the family photo that sits on his desk, frowning. I’m honestly offended that that’s all the sympathy he has for Grady. He committed unforgivable sins, but I still have a crater-sized hole in my chest over his loss. “When?”

I gesture at my pair of battle scars. “Last night. He put a slug in my shoulder and tried to take my head off with another. It had to be done.”

I expect him to yell. Scream. Pull a gun and start firing. But he doesn’t. He studies me for a long moment, his thick, graying brows almost touching. “You had the Giambelli girl the whole time, didn’t you?”

I flick my head toward Dixon. “Courtesy of this guy, yes. She’s safe and back with Anthony.”

Dad blows out a ragged breath and a smile teases on his lips. “Well, fuck. That earned us a hell of a get out of jail free card.”

“No.”

He cocks his head. “No? He still wants you dead after that? Fuck.”

“We don’t fuck with the Giambellis, period.”

We can’t waste it.

I might need that get out of jail free card someday.

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