Page 162 of Game Plan

“Mason? MASON?” Someone pressed my forearm, and I blinked again, trying to snap out of whatever funk I’d fallen into.

When I opened my eyes, both my parents were standing in front of me, deep creases carving their foreheads, exchanging worried gazes.

“What?” I feigned indifference, hoping they would think they were imagining something that wasn’t there. Did I black out? How long had they been talking to me without my even realizing it?

My dad rubbed his scruffy jaw, frowning. “Mason, son. I think we need to sit down.”

“Nah.” I grabbed an apple from a basket on the kitchen island and bit into the juicy fruit. “No time. I’m supposed to go to the Shepards before dinner. They probably expected me to show up like ten minutes ago.”

My father pressed his hand on my shoulder again, the left one this time, and steered me toward the living room. “They can wait. Dinner can wait too.”

A restless agitation stirred inside me.

I dodged my dad’s hand, now splayed across my back, and flicked my wrist in a dismissive gesture. “Nah. All is good. I’ll be back in fifteen.”

“Mason Pierce, sit your ass on that couch, and stop trying to run away.”

My mom’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Whoa, I knew you could say ass, Mom,” I smirked, hoping it would distract them from their mission. I was so not ready to have a talk with them about whatever they thought they knew about my shoulder. I lifted a hand. “C’mon, don’t be shy. Gimme a high five.”

She remained silent, and it felt worse than if she had chastised me. My smile slipped. We fixated on each other for a full minute until she pointed to the seat next to her with a finger. I swallowed, not liking the look on her face, and dropped my arm at my side. It was something I hadn’t seen in a long time. The last time being when I had lied about getting drunk one night and made a huge mess in the kitchen when I had tried to make myself a sandwich. She had found me the next morning, sprawled half-naked on the kitchen floor, still passed out from the night before. It was part deceit, part worry, and part unease. Or something similar that tied my stomach into tight knots.

I sat without another word, knowing Dad would catch up with me if I tried to bolt out of here. The last thing I needed was the Shepards witnessing my impending humiliation if we had that talk outside.

“We were waiting for you to say something, but since you’re not, we’ll be the ones asking questions. Don’t lie your way out of this, son. We already know way more than you’ve let us believe until now.”

“Chill, Dad.” I fisted my hands in the front pocket of my hoodie, doing my best to hide how unnerving this sit-down made me. “No one is dying.”

“Mason, stop trying to turn whatever this is into some kind of joke. We watched your last game…”

I swallowed. Hard. This was it. The moment I’d been dreading for over a year. How honest did I have to be in order to keep them off my back? Because if they found out how bad my shoulder had gotten, they’d hover over me forever.

“So?” Did I nail the detached and nonchalant tone? “We won. It was a pretty good game if you ask me. I landed a few incredible passes. If you wanted to congratulate us…or me, consider it done. Can I go now?”

“Stop trying to wriggle out of this conversation. Your shoulder, Mase. It was nagging you last year, and you kept pretending it wasn’t, but now we can’t turn a blind eye any longer. This has lasted long enough. You’re not playing in high school anymore. College football is an all-new battlefield. Do your coaches know?”

“There’s nothing to know because there’s nothing wrong. Fucking Nichols fucked me up pretty badly the other day, but the bruises are almost all gone now.”

“Language, Mase.” Mom gave me a pointed look.

“Finnne. Not-so-nice Nichols got a few punches in the other day. Anyway, it’s just a few bruises. Nothing’s broken. As I said, all good. Don’t make a big deal out of nothing. It’s almost healed. And yes, the coaching staff saw the bruises because the news of Nichols beating me up spread like wildfire all over campus. Are we done now?”

My dad’s face strained. “Mason, stop playing dumb.” He looked exasperated at my antics.

“I am not…”

“We talked to your brother, Mase. Craig told us about⁠—”

Before he could finish his sentence, I sprang to my feet. Anger blinded me, its fire coursing through my veins. It burned hotter by the second. “He had no right. He had no fucking right to do this. It wasn’t his story to tell. He…he had no business in my business.” Geez, I sounded like a broken record. “He should have kept his stupid mouth shut. He should’ve known better than to tattle on me.”

As if summoned, Craig rushed down the stairs, oblivious to our conversation. “It smells delish. I’ll set the table. Is Mel having dinner with us?” He could at least feel guilty for betraying my deepest secret. If I were him, I’d have locked myself in my bedroom and never come out. How could he be so presumptuous as to show his face? Didn’t he know I’d find out soon enough he was a traitor?

“You asshole, you fucking snitched on me. What part of keeping your mouth shut about the drug use didn’t you understand? I thought you were on my team. I thought I could trust you. I thought… I don’t know what I thought, but never would I have believed you’d be the one stabbing me in the back. You’re fucking dead to me, man. All this time, I’ve been trying to get you out of that depressed state you seem to be unable to escape since you broke up with Paige, and what did you do in exchange? You betrayed me. After you promised you wouldn’t. That you’d keep my personal stuff private. I hate you. I hate you so much right now. I wish we were not related. Gosh, I thought you were my best friend. Chase would never have ratted me out. Once I’m done with you, I never want to see your face again. Don’t even think about coming back to live with us once college resumes. I’m kicking you out. Of our house. Of my life. You’re not my brother anymore. Nah, you screwed me over. You’re just a snake.”

I didn’t think. I just rushed forward, headfirst, barreling into his legs, ready to tackle him to the floor and show him what I meant with my fists.

Everything unfolded in slow motion: the surprise forming on Craig’s face, my right arm pulling back, my mom’s eyes widening in horror.