Mason (Fallen Crest High 0.5)(20)

Tate’s head snapped back and she saw him. She gasped, and she scrambled for her shirt. “Logan!”

He was seething. There was rage in his eyes and his hands were in fists. He jerked forward a step. “Get. Out.”

“Logan.” She glanced at me.

I held my phone up. “I called him.”

He ground out, “I heard everything.”

“Oh.” She paled. “Oh my god.” Pulling her shirt on, she wavered on her feet like she was going to fall down. Her hand pressed to her stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Welcome to the f**king club.” Logan never looked away from her. The rage was there, but it was held in control. Barely.

I stood from my chair. Casting a concerned gaze over my brother, I said to her, “Get out. Now.”

“Mason—” She started walking toward to me.

“STOP!”

She jumped back, her eyes large and horrified as she watched Logan with caution now. Her jaw started trembling. “Logan,” she whispered, “please—”

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

She choked out, “Oh my god.” Then she fled. When she turned to go to his room, he went after her.

“Logan.” I caught him and held him back.

“GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE! NOW!”

She froze, then a strangled gasp ripped from her. “My clothes.”

“Fuck your clothes. I tossed ‘em.”

Her eyes got even bigger. “What?”

A bitter laugh came from him; it was harsh and ugly sounding. “Why do you think it took me so long to get here? Your clothes are gone, bitch. Get the f**k out of this house. Now!” He jerked forward against my arm again, but I felt the control in him. He was still holding it back. She just didn’t know it.

She stumbled back a step. “I have to go out like this—”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!”

A hallway light switched on from the third floor. I cursed. Our dad was up. Then I snapped at her, “Get the f**k out of here or I’m calling the cops.”

“But—”

“NOW!”

“What the hell is going on down here?” Our dad was coming down the stairs. As he got to the last step, he tightened his robe and gazed around the group. He frowned. “Why doesn’t this girl have pants on? Why don’t you have a shirt on, Mason? Logan? What is going on?”

I stepped forward. Logan was close to snapping so I pushed him inside.

He resisted. “No.”

“I’ll take care of it,” I told him. “You’re going to lose it soon.”

He bit out another harsh-sounding laugh, but leaned around me. “He recorded you.”

“Oh no.” Her mouth fell open again, and she fell against the wall. “Oh god no.”

“Every f**king thing. He recorded it from the beginning and he called me. I heard the entire thing, not part of it, not a little bit of it. The whole f**king thing. You’re done, Tate. You’re goddamn done. No one will want to be your friend.”

“Go.” I shoved him inside and pulled the door shut. Logan tried to open it again, but I held it firm and waited until he let go.

He continued to yell through the door, “You want to f**k my brother? You think you can play us? You have got another think coming, Tate! I know you. I know all your goddamn secrets. I know how to make you suffe—” He cut himself off and a sick laugh came next. “FUCK! You went after my brother, that’s my family. He’s my blood, and if you’d—you bitch!”

She started whimpering. “What am I going to do?”

I whipped around and got in her face. She backed up, a startled gasp in her throat, and slammed against the wall. I leaned close, keeping only an inch between us. I’d been holding it back. I wanted her to show her real self and she had. All of my contempt and my own anger had been kept in check. It was about Logan then, but not anymore. Logan was in my room. He wasn’t coming out. It was her and me, so I let my mask fall. When she saw my loathing, the near hatred I had for her, she began crying. Large tears gathered in her eyes and they fell. She didn’t stop them. She gasped for air instead, but kept quiet, watching me as if her life depended on it.

“You will leave this house. You will leave my brother alone. You won’t email him, Facebook him, text him, tweet him, you won’t do anything except wait until he chooses to talk to you again. If he’s walking down a hallway, you leave. If he enters a room, you leave the room or you stay in the farthest corner away from him that you can. Now,” I paused, “I won’t say it again. Leave this house.”

James beckoned for her. “Come on. I’ll call a driver for you.”

When she edged away from me and went to him, I shook my head. “You’ll call a cab. Not a driver.”

He took hold of her arm and frowned at her. “Does she have clothes?”

She was sobbing, but said around them, “Logan did something to them.”

He sighed. “Of course.” Then he said to me, “I am not going to call for a cab. If she’s hurt somehow on her way home, she could sue us. I won’t have her damaging this family any more than she has.” He pointed to my room. “And whatever you have recorded, you will delete it immediately. She could sue for that as well.”