Reputation (Mason Family, #2)

by Adriana Locke

Wade and I, though? We rarely see eye to eye on anything. If I’m music and mayhem, he’s silence and spreadsheets. I’m not even sure how we have the same genetics.

“What? Do you think that Wade and I could do anything together? He has a resting dick face and a repulsion for strip clubs. Yeah. I think not.”

Everyone thinks my brothers got their drive from our father, but it was really from Mom. She’s the queen around here.

“Did I break his face?” Bree shouts from behind me, panic tinging her sweet little voice. “Why didn’t you catch the ball, Bellamy? You could’ve caught it!”

I stand eye to eye with Coy Mason, the man I would give up my entire shoe collection to avoid—the man I would forgo Cheez-Its for the rest of eternity for as long as I didn’t have to reencounter him. The man with a face I want to sit on and pummel at the same freaking time.

“Did I break him?” Bree shouts again. “What do you say, Bells?” he asks cheekily. “Did she break me?” His voice, warm and with arrogance-straddling confidence, shakes me out of the shock of seeing him. Reality blasts back in one swift, somewhat awkward moment. “He was broken way before you hit him with the ball,” I tell Bree over my shoulder. “He’s going to be fine.”

“Let’s go,” I tell Bree, grabbing her little palm. “But the man is talking to you.” She stumbles alongside me. “Shouldn’t we say goodbye?” “We don’t talk to strangers. Remember?” I say. “But …” She looks over her shoulder as I nearly drag her toward the gate. “I’m sorry, Mister!”

“Thanks,” she tells Coy, ignoring me. She takes her ball from him. “I’m trying to decide whether to go into the major leagues or be a pianist. It’s a tough choice.”

“What are you doing? Trying to charm children now?” I ask without looking at him. “Why not? It’s more of a challenge than charming you.”

Coy doesn’t just see you. He sees you. He makes you feel like the only person in the entire universe … when he wants to. Apparently, he wants to now.

“Can you teach me to throw a curveball?” she asks Coy. “I’ve been watching videos on YouTube, but I can’t figure it out. And since the last one I tried ended up hitting you in the face, I think it’s safe to say I can’t do it.” She looks at me disapprovingly. “But I do think it was catchable, Bellamy.”

“True. But he’s not a boy. He’s a man. I think Mom would be okay with it.” Coy looks up at me with a twinkle in his eyes too. “Yeah, Bells. I’m a man.”

“I’m glad you still have your moxie. I was afraid you’d actually become the basic bitch you pretend to be.”

I could tell him that he did become everything I feared. That the boy who went to war with my dad when we were younger over the Winter Wonderland dance—getting himself grounded and unable to attend himself—had turned into a selfish, egotistical human being that doesn’t resemble the boy I used to know.

He’s still the man who breaks promises, forgetting them in an instant. Forgetting me in an instant. And I’m going to remember that this time. Even if it kills me.

We’re two alpha personalities—oil and water in many ways. But, at the same time, we’ve always been drawn to each other. We’ve had a connection that’s hard to put my finger on since we were kids.

I want to catch up. And I definitely want to see her smile, even if it’s while she’s telling me to fuck off.

“You’re hiding out from our brother at our grandpa’s? This is where you are in life?” “Absolutely.” He gets up and heads for the door. “Wanna come?”

And now, I don’t know what she needs, only that it’s probably nothing from me. It’s easier to live with that when you live in another state and are so busy that you can’t see straight. But seeing her in person? It hits different. It makes a lot of things hit differently.

Irritating her is fun. It’s our natural balance. It’s what we do. We bicker and get under each other’s skin … and then a handful of times, we got under each other. And then we go on about our lives.

And while Lauren has breached the employer-employee line with me many times—specifically the time she told me she got a butt plug stuck, which I didn’t know was possible—I’m not ready to hang my dirty laundry out for her to see. Even if it is cleaner than her sheets.

“I know you like Coy, but I’m your daughter. Like me more,” I tease. He rolls his head to the side and looks at me. “Clearly, I’m on your side if there are sides.” “Not if you’re considering fraternizing with the enemy.”

Dad has cancer. It’s bad. Really bad. And I don’t think I’m going to make it, Coy. I’m terrified. You told me on the Fourth of July that you would always be here for me. I need you. Please call me.

One thing is also true: your life can’t be destroyed if you don’t allow people access.

I believe that. She always told us that you were responsible for your happiness, so I imagine that Mom does ensure her life is full independently of my father.

He’s the singular thing in my life that I can’t rectify. He just hangs out in my head like a perpetual mental hangnail—festering and unresolved.

I liked Boone, but I loved Coy. Always.

I trusted him when he said there was something between us. I gave him my virginity in a tent in his backyard when I was seventeen and my heart on my sleeve on my twenty-first birthday three years ago.

But maybe I need to open my chakras and invite positive energy in. Perhaps that will bring clarity and direction. And dick, but that’s a close third on the priority list.

“What do you want me to do? Go on a hike at dawn and get eaten by a bear?” “Maybe.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Which is it? Hiking or getting eaten?” “I don’t know.” His grin turns into a deep, unsettling smirk. “Do you like getting eaten?”

“What’s the other?” he asks, clearly fighting the same internal battle as me. I take a deep breath of the cold air and will it to extinguish the flame burning in my core. I face Coy head-on and let him watch as logic overpowers my lust. I smile. “It was when I woke up, and you were gone.”

“I was just fucking around with you.” I look him right in the eye. “Me too. It doesn’t hit the same when you’re the one getting walked away from, does it?”

So I stayed there. Emotionally. Physically. In every way. Right where she wanted me. Just like I do now. Her indifference to me—that night specifically—shook my confidence a little. I’d never attempted to connect with someone like that.

She covers her face with her hands and holds them there. “What are you doing?” I ask, trying not to laugh. “I’m manifesting.” “What are you manifesting?” “Peace, love, and goodwill to men.” I snort. “So, you’re trying to manifest yourself into a Hallmark card?”

“We can get along for the sake of Bree, but don’t lie to me, Coy. Cut the shit. I don’t need you to care. I don’t need you to tell me the things I want to hear so I can survive, okay? Maybe that’s how other women work but not me. I’m going to be just fine without it.”

“Do you need to be licked, Miss Davenport?” I whisper. “I got licked last night, Mr. Mason. But thank you for the offer.” A bolt of jealousy sweeps through me, and I clench my hands at my sides. “Then I guess we fight.”

“Now, I’m done fucking around with you,” I tell her. “You wanna fuck? Tell me when. You wanna fight? Please. Let’s. Tell me why you’re pissed. But I won’t do this guessing game with you anymore. Got it?”

Kissing her is a scratch to an itch that’s been plaguing me. That fucks me up. It feels better to kiss her, to hold her in my arms, than it does to screw someone else.

He kisses you, smothering you with attention, and tells you everything you want to hear. But when the time comes to act on any of it, he bails. I know this. That’s why I don’t want this. But dammit. That kiss was amazing.

“Why do you say that?” he asks. “Why do you say you hate me?” Because it’s easier than the truth.

I know logically that I need to distance myself from Coy. But the illogical side of me—the side that irrationally holds out hope that the spark between us could sustain a lifelong fire—wants to live in this moment.

“Life is made up of a web of experiences and emotions. They are the only two things we have in life no matter who you are, where you live, or what you do. You’re going to experience things, and you’re going to feel things.”

“The key to life—the key to everything—is who you choose to build your web around,”

“When I’m gone,” he says, starting again, “Bellamy will have no one. There will be no one to celebrate her birthdays.” His voice breaks once again. This time, it doesn’t find its rhythm. “There will be no one to make sure she makes it home after she stays out too long with Larissa. Nobody will make sure she goes to the doctor when she gets bronchitis in the fall or makes her chicken noodle soup without carrots. And that …” Tears stream down his cheeks in a quiet river. “That’s what keeps me up at night.”

Heart broken

“I don’t wanna fight with you.” “Well, I wanna fight with you. I just can’t manage it right now.”

The only thing I can pick out—the only thing that I know for sure—is that Coy has had many opportunities to stick around, and he never has.

Our relationship could be enemies-to-lovers, but it’s always heavy on the enemies and light on the lovers.

“That means I gave you everything,” I say slowly. “My first kiss. My virginity,” I say, ignoring the shock on Coy’s face. “My heart on that boat and my vulnerability when I needed someone and dared to ask for help.”

“Bellamy, that’s not true. I had no idea …” “Then you weren’t paying attention.” I shrug.

“I’m just a crazy guy who’s always had a thing for the hot, beautiful, and sexy girl next door.” “You have a neighbor like that?” He tries not to laugh but fails miserably.