Fallen Crest Home (Fallen Crest High #6)(19)

“Nothing does.” But that wasn’t true.

“You were put in the hospital by crazy chicks because of Mason.” He looked over my face and neck. “I don’t think it’s a stretch to say those happened because of him, too.”

My neck grew warm. I gritted my teeth. “Back off about this, Mark. You’re going to ruin a relationship I was enjoying having with you.”

My message was clear: Push me and I’ll choose Mason. Every. Damn. Time.

After a moment he asked, “Did I tell you the crazy shit Cass wants me to do this summer?”

He’d dropped it. I should’ve been thankful, but I wasn’t. Feeling a weird sense of disappointment mixed with wariness, I just shook my head. I shoved that away. Mark was a good brother, or he was trying to be. That was all. I couldn’t get mad at him for doing what I’d do for him.

But as he launched into some story about Cass wanting him to join a walking club, I listened with a knot in my stomach. The previous conversation wasn’t over. It had just been dropped, for now.

A few hours later, we heeded the worker’s warning and made sure Keifer paid us. After he demanded to know who told us to request our money, he slapped some paperwork in front of us with a couple pens. “You might as well fill those out, if we’re going to make this legal after all.”

Mark and I shared a look.

Keifer noticed. “What? We’re not completely illegal here.” He tapped the papers. “I’ll get what I owe you for today, but if you’re serious about a job, come back tomorrow. Keep doing trash, and I’ll find something better by the end of the week for you two.” He paused, looking us over with suspicion. “I’m assuming you want to man a booth together?”

Mark lifted a hand. “I was hoping for the beer garden.” That was true. That was the whole reason Mark suggested a job here.

Keifer laughed, but stared at me. It was like an idea had come to him, and he nodded. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

Mark frowned at me. I shrugged in response. I didn’t know what that was about, but we left with money in our pockets.

We were nearing Mark’s car when the worker we’d spoken to earlier called to us. He raised an arm and veered around some vehicles with the same lithe athleticism he’d showed earlier when he jumped into his booth.

“Hey! Wait up.” Slowing as he neared us, he flashed his white teeth. “You two got paid?”

“We did.”

I let Mark do the talking.

The guy bobbed his head up and down, seeming to mull something over. “Well, okay. Have a good night.” He held a hand out in a wave, walking back to where he’d come from.

“That was weird,” Mark said as we got in the car.

“Yeah.”

But the guy wasn’t on my mind. Mark’s new protectiveness was. Mason would be waiting for me when I got home, but I didn’t know if I wanted to tell him about this change. The job, yes. Mark’s concern for me, no. Not yet, anyway.





MASON


The day had been…not as I’d expected. Quinn wasn’t half bad when it came to offering ideas, and he no longer had that look he had in high school—like I had something he wanted and he hated me for it. I wasn’t feeling the need to punch him at the end of the day. That lasted until we headed out to the parking lot and a girl with dark red hair greeted him, tipping her head back for a kiss.

I recognized her. Becky Sullivan, the chick who’d backstabbed Sam on more than a few occasions.

As they kissed, my phone started ringing. I turned my back on them, headed to my vehicle as I raised the phone. “Yeah?”

“You want to tell me why the fuck I’m getting messages that Sam’s covered in bruises?”

I looked at the ID. “Funny. My phone says this is my brother calling, not Samantha’s boyfriend.”

“Fuck you.”

I grunted, getting into the Escalade. “No, fuck you. You don’t call and chew my ass out, like I’m supposed to report to you or something.”

He groaned. “You’re kidding me, right?! Why is Samantha looking like she got drop-kicked on her head, and why am I hearing this from Mark and not you?”

“Mark?”

“Yeah,” Logan bit out. “You get why I’m a little pissed right now? I’m finding it out from Sam’s stepbrother. What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing we can’t handle.”

He grew quiet for a moment. His voice was low when he spoke again. “Why are you shutting me out?”

“Because you’re in Paris with Mom and with your girlfriend. I don’t want you coming back early because you don’t think I can handle things.”

“That’s not what—”

“That’s exactly what you’d do.” I sat back, the keys dangling in the starter.

“You don’t have backup.”

“I called Matteo in. He was heading home for a few weeks. He said he’s happy to stay a while instead.”

“Nate’s not there.”

“Nate will be here in two weeks.”

“Then you’re alone for those two weeks.”

“Logan,” I growled. I reached forward, starting the engine. “We’re fine. We got into one sticky situation. Channing and his crew were there. They helped us out. We’re fine. You think I’d let Sam be put in danger again?”