Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(32)

No response. She hasn’t even received it. She must have shut her phone off. Scanning my contacts, I dial Mason. He picks up on the second ring.

“Go tell Reese to check her damn phone,” I demand, a rare hint of irritation in my voice.

“Uh . . .” I picture him fiddling with his glasses. “I’m not at home at the moment.”

“Shit,” I mutter to myself. “Where are you? The library?” Mason’s a predictable guy. It’s either Warner, home, or the library.

“Why do you need Reese?”

“Just . . . she’s supposed to help me at the office tomorrow and she’s trying to ditch me.”

A hiss sounds into the receiver, followed by a low female giggle in the background, making me double-check the display to make sure I actually dialed Mason Warner. I did.

This can’t be right. I recognize a sated female giggle when I hear one. “Dude, are you getting laid?”

With a heavy throat clearing, he says, “I don’t know where she is right now but I know where she’ll be tomorrow.”

“All right, lay it on me.”

“I’m sending a link through now. Meet us there at ten.”





Chapter 11




REESE





I’m ready to hunt that bitch down.

After paying the fees, having my gun approved for the field, collecting our rental equipment, and signing our life away in waivers, I managed to get Nicki away from the registration area while we wait for Lina. I don’t know if Jared and Caroline are here yet, but I don’t want to cross paths with either of them before I’m fully suited up.

“Good call on the paintball. I needed to de-stress after this week,” Nicki says, stretching out her arms, her rental gun on the ground beside her feet. She’s always loosening her muscles. In full-length black pants and a black turtleneck stretched over her strong frame, she doesn’t really fit my idea of a social worker who helps troubled teens, but I’ll bet she’s better than most at it.

I went with my usual garb—camouflage pants and a matching long-sleeved shirt. It’s loose and I definitely don’t look appealing, but this is paintball. If you come here to look good, you’re an idiot. And you leave with welts. “Where is Lina and this mystery guy of hers?” I mutter. “It’s going to get hot out here if we wait too much longer.” I’m not stepping off these grounds until I’ve unloaded at least one hopper on Caroline.

“Good question. Lina’s never late,” Nicki agrees. “And you’re always late. I can’t believe you were waiting on the doorstep for me when I pulled into your driveway.”

“Just trying to be considerate.” I decided not to ride my bike here today. Too conspicuous. I’d rather Caroline and Jared don’t see me coming until it’s too late. “And I guess I could use some de-stressing, too.”

“Yeah, you’ve had a rough week, with the universe hating you and all,” she says with sympathy in her eyes. I filled Nicki in on the car ride over about the whole Ben thing and about Jared and Caroline being in the city. Of my two best friends, Nicki is probably the easier to talk to. She asks questions while recognizing my unspoken feelings. She’s also a better listener than Lina. Lina just tells you what she thinks, flat out, without tempering it with even a hint of grace.

Of course, no one knows that Caroline and Jared will be here today. That’s just a bit too much honesty.

“Well, look who finally graced us with her presence!” Nicki exclaims, throwing her arms up in mock exasperation. I don’t miss the strained smile and shifty-eyed glance toward me, though I don’t understand why.

The second I turn around, I do.

“Mason?” I feel my face bunch up in a tight scowl. “What are you—”

It suddenly clicks.

“Oh my God!” I gasp out loud as my best friend steps forward to loop her arm through his, almost as if to keep him in place. “Remember, I’m your friend and you love me,” Lina states matter-of-factly. I simply stare as she announces, “Mason and I are dating.”

What? What! I look from her to Mason—who’s eyeing the paintball gun dangling in my fingers—and back to her. “Seriously? You’re having sex with my stepbrother?” I can’t help but cringe.

“I said we’re dating.”

I glare at Mason’s beet-red face. All I see is a gangly kid with thick glasses, who loves Jeopardy and bitches at me about leaving gobs of toothpaste in the sink. If she’s not sleeping with him, then he may still be a virgin. I hope she’s not expecting great sex again for a long time.

Mason and Lina? But . . . But . . . “He wears old-man pajamas!” I cry out, as if Mason’s two-piece striped, collared, button-down sleepwear—with pockets—explains everything.

Lina tucks her short blond bob behind one ear, her face calm and composed, as though she expected this reaction from me. “He’s smart, cute, and nice. Don’t be a bitch.”

I’m fully aware that I am being a bitch, so I don’t take offense. Plus, I’m still in shock. My best friend is dating my childhood nemesis? “But . . . how?”

Lina’s arms fold over her chest. “I was going to tell you over dinner but you bailed on us, too busy working.” Gray eyes dissect me as Lina lays that well-timed guilt trip on me.