Spite Club (Mason Brothers 1)

I can’t, Nick. I just can’t. That was what she’d said when Andrew had tried to kill himself the second time. I’d called her, and she’d come, but she’d left before he woke up. I just can’t.

I shouldn’t forgive her for that. But that particular crime wasn’t mine to forgive, it was Andrew’s. And Andrew made his own decisions. All I wanted was to see him happy.

Scout squirmed in my arms. “I can’t talk about this right now, like this,” I said. We were standing in the parking lot of my building. “I have to go.”

“Can we go inside and talk, then?” Mom said. “Can I come in? I have a lot of things I want to say.” She paused, while I stood rigid. “Please, Nick.”

Fuck. I shouldn’t do it. I should tell her to just fuck off and go home, leave me to my life. I should tell her there are no second chances.

It would be easier to tell her to go. Easier not to try. Easier to just stay in my life the way it was without changing anything. To shut myself off from anyone causing me that kind of pain again. That would be the easy thing to do.

But Andrew had made me promise that if she came to me, I would listen. And I knew that Evie would agree. The easiest way wasn’t always the best way in the end. We were both learning that. Sometimes you had to walk the hard route, the route that didn’t have any signs. The route that could hurt you.

So I looked at my mother, at her hopeful face, and I sighed.

“All right,” I said. “Come in.”

Twenty-Five

Two Weeks Later

Evie

Even after everything, I still liked to punch Nick Mason.

“Come on, Evie,” he said. “Hit me harder.”

We were at the boxing gym. We’d been here for an hour, sparring—sort of. Even though I’d upped my game, our version of sparring consisted of me hitting him, and him not hitting me back. He refused to do it any other way. Find some other guy to hit you, he’d told me. I’m not fucking doing it.

So, fine then. I hit him.

Not in the face. No way was I aiming for that gorgeous face of his. But his hot, muscled body was fair game. We dodged around the mats as I aimed for his chest, his shoulders, his stomach. He was faster than me, and I only landed some of the hits I aimed at him—and the ones I landed he ridiculed as too soft. His taunts just made me work harder, and we were both covered in sweat. My arms were shaky and my legs were rubber. I felt freaking amazing.

I positioned my feet and jabbed him again, almost getting his pec. He raised a glove and blocked me, our gloves smacking. “Better,” he said. “Maybe.”

I straightened, scrubbing my forearm over my sweaty forehead. “You’re such an asshole,” I said, panting.

“I know,” Nick said. “It turns you on.”

“It doesn’t.” It totally did.

“Right, redhead.” He glanced back over his shoulder, where the gym had emptied out behind us. It was closing time, apparently. The other guys had gone and an old guy was turning out the lights.

I’d had no idea we had to go. But Nick wasn’t moving. The old guy turned out a few more lights, then gave Nick a nod—which Nick returned—and walked out the front door, locking it shut behind him.

“What’s going on?” I said.

“Workout’s over,” Nick said, his voice deceptively casual. He used his teeth to rip the velcro off his right glove.

“He just closed the place and locked us in,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, he did.” Nick dropped his glove and started on the other one.

We were completely alone in the place now. The lights above our mats were the only lights on. It should have been creepy or weird. Instead I watched Nick drop his other glove, and I felt a hard shiver of anticipation. He was planning something. I didn’t know what it was, but I had the idea I was going to like it.

Still, I kept my voice calm, like this happened every day. “So how are we going to leave?” I asked as he stepped forward and undid my glove. “If the place is already locked, and all.”

“Spare set of keys in one of the lockers in back,” Nick said. “We’ll lock up behind us when we go.”