Page 4 of Bruised

He looks like he did in the photo I saw, only older. Rougher. Jaded. His intimidating aura sent my heart racing from the first time I laid eyes on him, and it hasn’t stopped.

He licks peanut butter from the spoon, ignoring his little brother’s question. How long has it been since they last saw each other? From the way Oliver’s acting, it seems like a long time, and it doesn’t seem like they’re very close.

Mason flicks his gaze up from the peanut butter jar. “For the summer, at least.”

“The whole summer?” Oliver gawks. “But… but⁠—”

“Complaints?” A little smirk tugs at the corner of Mason’s mouth, just like in the photo.

Oliver throws his hands in the air. “Hell yeah, I have complaints! I was supposed to have the house to myself.”

Mason shrugs again. “Take it up with my parole officer.”

I clear my throat, feeling more awkward by the second.

Oliver turns to me. “Oh, right. This is my friend, Lane. Lane, this is my older brother, Mason.”

The first time Mason’s predatory eyes land on me, a shiver runs down my spine and settles in the hollow ache in my stomach, filling it with something jittery and alarming.

Mason pushes himself off the kitchen counter and takes a step toward me. I hold out my hand to shake his, but instead of taking it, he reaches out and hooks his finger into the ring at the front of my choker. Then he pulls, making me gasp and stumble forward.

He smirks. “Cute. Like a little puppy.”

His voice burns a hole in the pit of my gut, and I stop breathing as desire hits me hard and fast, my mind spelling out danger in big, red letters.

I stare up into his slate-gray eyes. They’re glittering, like a vast sea below a cloud-covered sky. His grip on my choker is steady, unflinching, as is his gaze.

My desire comes with an equal amount of defiance. Who the hell does he think he is?

I glare.

I glare hard.

But he doesn’t let go. He just keeps looking at me with that infuriating smirk on his lips, as if he knows something I don’t.

Oliver rolls his eyes. “Let him go, Mason. Leave him alone.” He feigns carelessness, but I know him well enough to hear the anxiety underneath. “Why can’t you just crash at Tess’s place?”

Finally, Mason lets me go and takes up the jar of peanut butter again, as if nothing even happened. “Maybe I wanted to check in on my baby brother.” He leans in and gives Oliver’s cheek a squeeze, but Oliver bats him away. After that, Mason gets serious for one point two seconds. “Heard anything from Logan?”

Oliver crosses his arms, and suddenly he looks smaller and younger than he is. “Why would I have heard from Logan?”

Mason gives him a look that I suppose means something, but I have no idea what. I feel like I’m witnessing something private, something I’m not supposed to see.

“My room still here?” Mason asks. His long tongue swirls into the bowl of the spoon, slowly scooping up the peanut butter.

The sight does something to me. Something bad. I try to tear myself away, to go to the bathroom or up to Oliver’s room, but I can’t. I’m too involved already. Too curious.

“You know it is,” Oliver mutters. “Mom always hoped you’d come back.”

Mason nods, as if the statement doesn’t faze him at all.

“So you’re going to be here… all summer?” Oliver sounds disturbed by the mere thought, and the reality of the situation is starting to sink in for me, too.

Oliver and I were supposed to have the house to ourselves. No parents, no school, no jobs. Just each other, snacks, gaming, and fun. Now his ex-con big brother is barging in here and ruining our peace? For the whole summer? Our summer?

“Have a problem with that, Ollie?” Mason asks, a challenging glint in his eyes.

“I’ve told you not to call me that,” Oliver growls.