Promise Me Not

Mason

Now, September

“Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine…” I reach my goal, then do two more. I quickly pop up from the push-ups and jog in place for thirty seconds. My shoulders ache, my core muscles pulsing, but I drop back down again, this time into a five-finger plank.

The burn in my abdomen is intense, but I breathe through it, counting down from forty-five, then hold a little longer before collapsing on the mat.

“You’ve been in here for almost three hours.”

I push up onto my ass, folding my arms over my bent knees, and look toward the door.

Chase shoves off the frame, slowly stepping into the garage of the Airbnb we rented. He glances around, noting an elliptical, a treadmill, and a station of free weights. “So this is the home gym included, huh?” he says quoting the ad.

I scoff, nodding toward the bucket in the corner. “At least they have mats to put down. Saw a couple of jump ropes in there, too.”

Chase nods, moving over to the treadmill and climbing on. He ties his hoodie up over his head and starts with a slow jog. “You skipped breakfast.”

“I had a protein shake.”

“You went to bed without talking to anyone last night.”

“I was tired. Why you so worried about me?” I snap, shoving off the ground and pulling my shirt over my head. I use it to wipe the sweat from my face.

“Because I see what’s going on.” When I say nothing, he adds, “You didn’t come to class on Thursday. We had a test.”

I look away, wrapping my T-shirt around my neck, and move for the door.

“We’re here to relax and hang out with our friends a couple of days, Mason.”

“I’m aware.”

“Don’t fuck it up.”

“Me?” I whip around. “What could I possibly do to fuck it up?”

He eyes me a moment, increasing the speed he’s running at and hitting an incline. “You’re in your head. You have been for a while. I’m not sure what’s going on exactly, but I think I know enough, and you’re running toward ruin. Try to let it go.”

I scoff, turning my back and heading for the door. “I bet you would just love that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he shouts after me, but I close the door.

The house is quiet aside from the TV running in the living room, Kenra asleep on the couch.

Grabbing four cold water bottles from the fridge, I down one and carry the other three toward the room down the hall. With a soft knock, I push the door open.

Brady is out cold on the twin bed on the right side of the room, his skin clammy, while Cameron and Paige are sitting up on the other bed. Cameron has a box of tissues and a blanket wrapped around her, reading from a school textbook, while Paige is staring at the TV that has no sound coming from it.

Fuck, I guess I should have brought my books, too. Not that it would help. There’s no way my professor lets me make up the test, not when I’m already behind in her coursework. I grit my teeth, pushing the worries aside, and meet the girls’ gazes.

“Hey.” Cameron smiles through a light cough.

I wiggle the water bottles. “Brought you guys something cold to drink.” I set them beside her and look to Brady. “He good?”

“He’s been snoring like a bulldog for the last two hours.” Cameron shrugs. “So he’s alive at least. Thinks he can sleep off the ick.”

Paige laughs, then groans, her hands flying to her temples. “I’m so sad. I can’t believe we’re going to miss the game tonight. Who gets sick sitting in a car for six hours and doesn’t get better when they get out of it?”

They were hoping the vomiting was from car sickness, which neither usually gets, but all three woke up feeling just as shitty as they did when they went to bed.

“There will be plenty more games to go to. Just rest, maybe try to sleep it off like Brady.”

Both girls push out their lower lips into a pout, and a grin pulls at my lips.

“Let me know if you need anything. One of us will make you guys some food before we leave.”

“Noah’s not here to work his magic in the kitchen.” Cameron throws herself back dramatically. “So, my sweet Paige, that means all we’re gonna get is canned soup.”

“I can bring it to you cold.”

Cameron gives a fake smile, fluttering her lashes. “Canned soup will be just fine, please and thank you. But if you don’t mind, I’m climbing in bed with the beast. He’s burning up, and I’m freezing.”

Shaking my head, I go to step out, but Cameron pops over to the door, grabbing the frame, so I pause in the doorway.

Her smile is softer now as she looks up at me, whispering, “You okay, Mase?”

Tension tugs at my chest, and I force a nod, but I can feel the frown along my brow dig deeper. “Yeah, I’m good. Perfect. Fine.”

She tips her head slightly, reading the lie on my tongue easily enough. “Sometimes people fight against things because they’re afraid of how they’ll play out.”

For a moment, I’m stuck staring at her, but then I manage to force a laugh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, girl. Go on. Get in bed with Brady. Feel better, okay?” I think I manage a grin and then softly close the door behind me.

The minute it’s shut, my face falls, and I squeeze my eyes closed.

Get a grip, my man.

Sighing, I head upstairs. I go to enter the room I was moved to, but my hand won’t wrap around the handle. I move past it into the bathroom for a cool shower.

My muscles bunch under the spray, slowly easing with each passing minute. I take a deep breath, trying to block out the stupid thoughts racing through my head.

So Chase bought Payton a soda. Big deal.

I’m sure Ari and the others know her drink of choice, too, just as I know what they like. Sure, I’ve known them for most of my life, but that doesn’t make a difference, right?

Yeah, it’s normal to notice things like that.

What’s not normal is the ghostly color she turned when Ari announced the room changes, since the others got sick on the last half of the drive.

It’s not like she has to share with anyone. She just got moved from the one downstairs she was originally going to stay in to the one upstairs where us boys are, and only so the baby would have less chance of getting sick. Instead of still sleeping close to the sick girls and Brady.

Yeah, that puts her right next to me and Chase, but so what?

Maybe she’s just worried the baby will wake us up?

Chase sleeps like the dead, when he sleeps at all, so I doubt he’ll even notice. He’ll stick to the living room, watching ESPN like he does back at the dorms, only going to his room to sleep.

Me? I’ll be waiting, okay, hoping, to hear that little cry that tells me they’re up. I want to hold him, and I need a minute alone with her.

Might have to yell at her, I don’t know yet, but she’s going to talk to me.

She needs to tell me we’re on the same page.

That she didn’t change her mind.

Shit.

What if she did change her mind?

Wrapping my arms around Ari, I lift and spin her in the air. “How’d you like that, baby sister?” I shout, the hype real and the two beers I had while waiting for Noah to get here warming me up. “Your man just won his team the game!”

“And not one but two touchdowns!” Brady, who says he sweat out his sickness, screams into the air, turning to a group of random strangers walking into the pub, wearing jerseys. “Hey. Number nineteen is my girl’s man. You see him out there?”

The women giggle and walk off, but Brady isn’t deterred, telling everyone in the vicinity Noah Riley is a badass and entirely spoken for.

Noah drops his eyes to the floor at the praise, quickly stepping up and demanding his woman back. The second Ari’s on her feet, he’s got her wrapped in his arms, and I turn away when he bends down to whisper something in her ear.

Love the guy…but she’s still my sister.

As I swing around to face the others—we’re cooped up in the back corner of the only restaurant in walking distance to both the stadium and the rental—a frown pulls at my forehead.

Payton passes Deaton off to Chase, heading toward Brady when he calls her name, and I reach Chase just as the other two curl around the corner.

His eyes pop up, and he leans back slightly, not realizing I was so close as the smile he had pointed at my little man fades. “What’s up?” His brow furrows.

“Give him to me.” I reach out, but Chase doesn’t pass him over right away, so I take a step closer.

Chase shakes his head, as if just realizing what I said. “Yeah, man. I was going to order some more wings or something anyway.”

He passes him over, but Deaton’s still between us when Payton reappears.

She steps up, taking him from both our hands. “Thanks,” she mumbles, sliding between our chests to get to the others, but I gently wrap my hand around her upper arm, halting her movement.

Her eyes snap my way, pleading and flicking to Chase for the briefest of moments. “I’m going to go sit by Ari and Noah. He wanted to hold him, so…”

I want to hold him.

I miss him. Can’t you see that?

My fingers twitch against her soft skin, and it takes ample effort to let go, but I do. I step back, my jaw clenched so fucking tight I might need a dentist after this shit.

It’s fine.

No big deal.

Noah and Ari lost so much, it’s good for them to bond with my little guy.

Besides, I’m still his favorite.

Everything is fine.

When I face forward again, Chase is still there.

He eyes me warily, keeping his voice low as he leans in. “You good, brother?”

“You gonna stop pissing me off, brother?”

His head jerks back, and I curse under my breath, lurch past him, and head to the bar on the other side of the room, taking a minute to settle myself. Or trying, at the very least.

It helps that the place is packed to the brim, especially since the bartender doesn’t bother or forgets to ask for my ID—not that it would matter, because I have a fake one that hasn’t failed me yet—when I order two pitchers of cheap beer.

The waiter follows me back to our section, setting several chilled mugs beside the pitchers, and I look up at the others with a forced smile.

I meet Noah’s gaze first. His head is cocked as he stares at me, Deaton jumping up and down in his hands, his little feet smaller than the cardboard coaster he’s kicking around. Ari sits at their side, concern written in her gaze.

My attention falls to the tabletop, and I fight the scowl threatening to take over.

Am I being that transparent here?

What do they see when they look at me?

A man who isn’t wanted?

Fuck.

I grit my teeth and pour the golden liquid into a mug, offer it to my friends.

Every single person passes, and my pulse jumps in my throat.

Fuck it. Whatever.

I drink the glass myself. And then I drink another.

And another.

A while later, a smile breaks across my face.

Who finished the other pitcher?

“Guess I didn’t have to drink alone after all.” A chuckle leaves me, and I glance up when Brady drops beside me. “My man!” I shout, wrapping my arm around his shoulder and yanking his big-ass body closer. “I fuckin’ love you.”

“Ditto.” He chuckles low, placing his forearms on the table and coming so close my vision crosses a bit. “You feelin’ good over here?”

“Fuck yeah.” My body seems to sway a bit, and I laugh again, lifting my glass. When nothing comes out, I bring it before my eyes. A frown is instant. “Who drank my beer?”

Brady scoffs, bumping his shoulder into mine. “Might wanna slow down, my boy. Long drive back tomorrow.”

“I don’t have to drive.” I shrug, thinking about the long-ass way here. “I just gotta sit there in my seat. Get ignored some more.”

Brady glares, and when I look up, Payton is staring with a turbulent expression.

Is she sad? Mad? Worried? I don’t know, but if I know her like I think I do, she’s a bit of all three. But why? I’m the one dying over here.

It’s my chest she’s cracking open and my heavy beating heart she’s tearing out, one tug at a time. And for what?

Or is it for who?

No. It can’t be.

But what if it is?

The alcohol in my system brings my blood to a boil at the sideways thoughts, and my eyes narrow on the pretty blue ones holding me hostage.

“Hey, Brady.” My voice carries over the noise, my gaze locked on my girl. “What’s Payton’s favorite thing to drink?”

“What?” he chuckles.

Payton’s eyes fall then, and guess who walks up behind her? I glare at my other best friend, but I repeat my question to the one at my side. “Her favorite drink. What is it?”

“Uh…Dr P?”

My limbs shake. “Wrong.”

Chase shakes his head, dropping down on the bench-like seat beside her, and she faces his way, answering whatever question he asks.

“Dude,” Brady whispers. “What am I missin’?”

He might keep talking. It’s hard to tell when my eyes are locked on the Chatty fucking Cathys a few spots over.

What could they possibly have to say to each other?

Chase hardly talks to any of us anymore, ever since he realized his mistakes with my sister.

I thought he felt like shit, that he was embarrassed by his actions and couldn’t face us because of his own inner bullshit. That sounds like the Chase I know.

I love that fucker. Die for him if it came to that.

But maybe I was wrong.

Maybe he’s being sneaky.

Maybe they both are.

Payton’s tense laugh reaches me. It invades my mind and sweeps through me, the sensation calming and right, but then my brain catches up.

He made her laugh.

He made her laugh, and she won’t even talk to me.

She’s talking to him.

He knows what she likes to drink.

“Are you two fucking?”

Gasps and sputtered curses fill the air, but I hold the gaze of the girl who’s breaking my fucking heart here.

“Tell me the truth.”

“Mason. Please,” she whispers, but her eyes scream so much more.

They tell me how disappointed she is, how out of all people I should know the answer to that question. That I shouldn’t have to ask it in the first place.

But I do.

“Did you make him a promise, too?”

“Stop,” she begs.

“Did he tell you that⁠—”

“You’re drunk, man. Just quit talking before you say somethin’ you regret.” Chase steps around the corner. “Let’s get you back to the house, huh? You need to⁠—”

“You need to stop trying to get with girls who aren’t available!”

Payton turns beet red, Ari gasps, and Noah’s eyes grow wide.

Brady steps up with his hands raised. “All right. Enough. Let’s take a breath here, and⁠—”

“Fuck you, Mason.” Chase cuts him off.

“Nah, fuck you!” I shoot to my feet, my arm shooting out to keep balance. “I’m trying to talk to her.”

“Not like this.”

Rage rolls through me, and even my spine starts to shake. “You think you can speak for her?”

“You guys,” Brady tries again.

“At least she’s speaking to me!”

My fist flies so fast no one’s stopping it. My knuckles come down across his cheek, and Chase’s head snaps to the side.

Instantly, everyone screams and shouts.

Security barrels over, and I hear my friends yelling, but my feet are already being dragged across the floor. I’m eating a mouthful of dirt in seconds, my head pounding, vision as foggy as a winter morning.

Someone helps me to my feet, and when I look into Chase’s eyes, I yank away.

“Get off me, man.”

“I’m helping you, jackass.”

“No, you’re fucking with me. Everyone is.”

He shakes his head, and I stomp my way toward the Airbnb, the soft murmurs and footsteps of the others not far behind.

When we reach the door, I stumble to the side, letting someone else open it.

No one bothers to tell me to come in, so I let it get shut in my face, wondering when the wall behind me is going to stop wobbling.

Who knows how long I stand there, but eventually a waft of warmth greets me as someone steps out.

“Oh my god, your hand.” Soft fingers brush my wrist, but I yank it back.

“Don’t pretend to care.” I blink, pretty blue eyes coming in and out of focus.

“That’s not fair,” Payton whispers.

“You know what’s not fair?” I rasp, my head rolling to the opposite side, lids too heavy to keep open. “What you said and what you’re doing. You’re killing me.” I breathe, forcing my lids to open and meet the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. “I’m fucking dying here, baby.”

Her beautiful face is blurred, so I raise my hand to make sure she’s really there, that I’m not imagining it. The second my knuckles meet her silken skin, I jolt. Pain slices through me, and I stumble away in panic, gripping my wrist.

“Fuck.” I look at my hand, but there’s too many fingers there. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I jerk, stumbling into the house, and manage to find my way to the bathroom.

I struggle to reach the faucet of the sink, finally figuring out how to get the damn thing on and shove my hand under the stream. “Shit!” I yank it back, the water too hot.

I reach up again, but soft fingers gently curl around my shoulder, sliding down my spine, and my head falls to my chest, the sensation shutting off everything else. All I feel is her.

God, I want more.

“Let me help you,” she murmurs.

“You can do whatever you want to me, Pretty Little. Anything. Always.”

Payton grabs my other hand, leading me who knows where, but I follow like an eager pup, and then I’m sitting on something soft. My eyes close, only opening again when a cooling sensation meets my knuckles.

Strawberry-blond hair and puffy pink lips hover above me, like my own little angel.

“Where’s my little man?”

“Sleeping. I laid him in the playpen before I came back outside to get you.”

I nod, my head turning when the bed shifts. Payton sits on her knees, gently setting the bag of ice over my knuckles.

Several quiet minutes go by before she speaks again, and when she does, it’s a low, torn whisper that claws at my insides. “I know things are…” She shakes her head, unsure what the right word is or unwilling to say it.

It doesn’t matter though. None of it does.

This girl could stick a knife in me, marry my best friend, and disappear for a decade, and so long as she came back for me in the end, it would. Not. Matter.

Only one thing does.

My fingers stretch under the Ziploc covering them, the tips brushing against her bare knee.

Slowly, her eyes come to mine.

I blink through the fog in my vision, trying to control the alcohol bobbing in my brain so I can hold her gaze. I reach out, tucking the loose strands of her hair behind her ear, my palm lingering in the spot.

Subconsciously, Payton turns into my touch, her eyes closing. “Mase.”

“I fucking miss you.”

Her whole body quakes.

“Can I hold you?”

She sucks in a choppy breath, those blue eyes on me.

“Please, Pretty Little…” My eyes start to close, my words more slurred than the last ones. “I need to hold you.”

“And I need to take care of you,” she murmurs.

My mouth curves at that, and I fall into my memories of the first time she spoke those words to me, desperately holding on to what happened afterward.

My life changed the last time she took care of me.

Everything changed that day.

But what will I wake up to tomorrow?