Crashed (Mason Brothers 2)

“You working your back muscles lately?” he asked.

I pulled out my phone and tapped it on, swiping through my apps. I called up my security feed, my fingers moving of their own accord. “Trying to.”

“Nice job.” He whistled. “Wow. Who’s that?”

Shit. I hadn’t been able to resist it: I’d called up the view of the house across the street. Tessa Hartigan had come out her front door and was unwinding a hose to water her lawn.

/> “She just moved in,” I said, trying to sound casual. Trying to sound like I wasn’t spying on her.

“Holy shit.” Jon leaned forward, looking more closely at her over my shoulder. “That girl is hot. What’s her name?”

“I don’t know,” I lied.

“But you’re one of those computer hacker guys. You could find out, easy.”

I already had. “Maybe.”

He paused in his work and we both watched her turn on the hose, then stand in the front yard, spraying the grass. Her neck was smooth and white below the ends of her hair. She had her big sunglasses on again, only her perfect nose and pouty lips visible. She was wearing a spaghetti-strap tank top and short shorts. Even her flip-flops were sexy. Jesus Christ.

“You should talk to her,” Jon said.

“No I shouldn’t.” I was mad that he’d caught me creeping on Tessa Hartigan like I couldn’t help it. I bit back my anger.

“Sure you should. I keep telling you, women would go crazy for you if you left the house.”

“Did you forget the part about my legs?”

“Aw, man, that doesn’t matter. As long as the plumbing works.”

I glanced over my shoulder at him. “This finally got weird, considering I’m partly naked.”

Jon shrugged. “I don’t play for your team, man.” He pointed to my phone, where my neighbor was spraying water like a cheesy music video. “I play for that team.”

“Thanks for the insight. My lower back, okay?”

He got back to work, taking his heated towel out of his bag and putting it on me while he worked. It was my lower back—my lumbar spine—that was damaged in the accident, the nerve damage shorting the signal from my brain to my legs. One stupid decision, and my legs weren’t getting the message anymore. They probably never would again. I couldn’t see the scars from the emergency surgery on my spine, but I knew they were there.

I closed the security app. I didn’t want to look at my neighbor anymore.

But Jon wasn’t ready to drop the subject. “I think you’re too hard on yourself, dude. Another patient of mine, he’s in a wheelchair, too. He’s on Tinder. I’m telling you, that guy cleans up.”

“Curiosity fucks,” I said. “I’m not interested.”

“No way. He’s just a player, the same as any guy with legs. Don’t you know what year it is? No stigma.”

“Trust me, there’s stigma.”

He sighed. “It’s mindset, man. Just mindset. Deep down you know it’s true.” He took the towel off. “Okay, we’re done.”

After he left, I grabbed some almonds and orange juice from the fridge and wheeled back to the living room. My phone rang. It was Nick.

I swiped to answer. “I’m answering the phone,” I said to my brother without bothering with hello. “Are you happy? Can I go back to my life now?”

“What’s going on there, fuckface?” Nick said back. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s great. I have hookers here. I’m snorting blow. Just a regular Wednesday at my house.”

He ignored me. “Did Jon come for the physiotherapy? I put it on the schedule on the fridge.”