Page 13 of Between Regrets and Promises (Between Us Trilogy #2)

MASON

ONE YEAR EARLIER

My heart pounds as I listen to Emma’s voicemail. Her voice is cool and calm as if she’s accepted her fate. Nothing like the several she previously left me when she’d stop taking her medication, then lose it after a few days.

But tonight feels different, is different.

After a dozen missed text and voice messages from her and her sister, I race to her sorority house on a random bike I found outside the frat house.

The music blares loudly for over a block, my body shaking as the blood whooshes in my ears.

Although I have the worst feeling in my gut, I hope everything is okay.

The moment I walk into her room, the air rushes from my lungs.

I shake her. Pleading with her to wake up and cursing when she doesn’t.

Her eyes. They look at me, begging me to save her.

Begging me to fix her.

I pump her chest, breathe into her mouth, and pray for a miracle.

Why, Emma? Why?

Everything fades to black, and my eyes pop open at the blaring sound of my phone alarm. Reaching over, I turn it off and wipe the sweat off my forehead and neck.

A dream. Another fucking dream.

Rather, a nightmare .

They’ve been more frequent over the past couple of months.

In April, Brandon died in a tragic motorcycle accident, and it rocked us all.

Hunter and Lennon are leaning on each other to grieve, but it’s brought up memories from my past that I’ve tried to keep locked away. Memories I can’t handle remembering.

Memories from four years ago that changed my life forever.

The image of her lying helplessly on the bed has continued to haunt me for years.

Brandon was one of my best friends and losing him has put me back into that dark place I’ve tried so hard to avoid. I can’t afford to emotionally spiral out of control again, knowing my dad will be right there to put me in my place, so I do the only thing I can to relieve the stress and pain.

I kick my trainer’s ass in boxing.

Waking up early means I can work out before going into the office, so I grab my duffle bag and drive to the gym with my nightmare and Brandon still lingering in my thoughts.

It doesn’t feel real. I’m still waiting for him to walk in the door and dare me to do a keg stand. He was so in love with Lennon, and unfortunately, I know how she feels and what she’s going through. Hunter, too.

All three of them were roommates, but Hunter and him were damn close.

He’s being strong for Lennon’s sake. I’ve seen how he acted around her before, but ever since the accident, he’s done a complete one-eighty and will do anything for her.

I suspect he’s had feelings for her, but knowing Hunter, he’d never act on them.

He’s not that kind of guy, but he’ll sacrifice everything, even himself, to take care of her for Brandon’s sake.

That’s how he is. And to make matters harder, Lennon found out she was pregnant shortly after he died.

Everything is a damn mess right now.

I graduated with my master’s degree and wrapped up my internship at the city morgue last month, and had I been working the night Brandon died, his body would’ve been brought in before I had word of the accident.

Knowing that pierces my gut because even after getting used to being around dead bodies, seeing his would’ve fucked me up worse.

This fucking head of mine. I wish I could turn it off and clear out the trauma that’s made me the man I am today. The one who’s a constant failure in my dad’s eyes, the one who can’t do relationships, and the one who numbs the pain by hitting someone.

I’m all worked up as soon as I get to the mat, which Tyler recognizes.

He thinks it makes me better, but he doesn’t realize how much pain I harbor, pain that allows me to punch the bag the way I do.

After I do my reps, he wraps up his own hands and taunts me, knowing it won’t take much to set me off.

He taps my right cheek, then my left, pushes my shoulders a bit, and tells me to hit him.

He knows I won’t hurt him, but we fight to win.

Once I’m in that ring, I give it my all just as he does.

His job is to make me better by strengthening my moves and critiquing my techniques.

Tyler’s at least five years older than I am and has been boxing for over a decade.

I’d consider him a friend if I didn’t need to keep our relationship at a professional level.

Getting too close to people only gives them permission to let you down, and I’ve had enough of that to last a fucking lifetime.

“That’s all you’ve got, Holt?” he mocks when he misses me, and I sucker punch him in the ribs. He barely winces although it was a decent hit. “My baby sister hits harder than you.”

Grinding my teeth, I narrow my eyes into slits with my hands up. “Oh yeah? She legal?” I swing and miss when he steps out of my reach.

“Fuck off.” Tyler goes for my jaw, but I duck and punch his other rib.

“I bet I could corrupt her. Give her a damn good time. Whaddya say? Give me her number.” I smirk, knowing my words are distracting him, so when I punch him right in the gut, he nearly falls back into the ropes.

“Motherfucker, that was a low blow.” He grimaces, pushing himself back up. “She’s too good for you.”

I shrug, letting his dig slide right off. And because I’m a glutton for punishment today, I keep punching and swinging. “Bet she gives good head.”

Tyler pushes me back, nearly making me trip over my own feet until I’m bouncing off the ropes and he’s in my face. I hold up my arms, covering my face as he lands punch after punch to my stomach.

After a half dozen jabs, I twist my body away from him and wrap my arm around his neck as my other hand decks him in the side. I manage to get him to his knees right before he takes my legs from under me. Soon, we’re both on the floor, holding each other tight and trying to throw blows.

“If your sister cuddles half as good as you do, I just might take her ass too.”

“Holt, I warned you…” he growls before kneeing me between the legs.

I groan loudly as he releases his hold on me, then stands as I lie helplessly below him. After blinking away the tears, I manage to get to my hands and knees, breathing heavily. Things haven’t gotten this heated in months.

Just when Tyler thinks it’s over and I’m going to surrender, I cut my arm under his knees and take him out until he’s flat on his back. Then I place a knee on his gut, and as he grunts, I swing at his face, landing a good punch to his cheek.

The adrenaline from it all has me wheezing, and I fall next to him, my chest heaving for air.

“You’re a real fucking asshole, you know that?” Tyler mutters between gasps.

“Does this mean you approve of me taking your sister out?” I turn my head to flash a toothy shit-eating grin. He jabs his elbow into my chest, then stands up.

“For the record, my sister would chew you up, then spit you out before you even had the chance to ask her out. She’s tougher than I am.” He holds out his hand and helps me up.

“Alright. Point taken.” I laugh, though we both know it was just the fuel that lit our workout. “I need to hit the showers and head to work. Now that I’ve kicked your ass, I won’t feel the need to punch anyone out today.”

“Don’t push your luck, Holt.”

I slide between the ropes, then jump out of the ring. “You know I always do.”

Once I got the degree I needed to pursue a career in forensics, I had hoped my bitch boy days of making coffee runs and filing papers would also end.

Each internship has taught me so much, even if parts of it sucked, and I’m grateful for the experiences.

Putting them on my resume helped get a foot in the door for the job I wanted.

Unfortunately, only a few forensic investigator jobs exist in the area, so while I wait for a position to open, I had to find other work to pay the bills.

I got a job at the Bureau of Investigations as an assistant in the homicide unit.

It’s right up my alley and involves more of what I went to school for, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get treated like a grunt.

Being the DA’s son comes with higher expectations, and while I don’t mind the added pressures, I could live without the constant comments about how “Daddy got me here.”

Working around men in suits all day is like being in the middle of a testosterone war. Everyone has a fucking point to prove.

Today ended up being one of those days I despise and was happier than a pig in mud to finally leave.

My supervisor lives to get under my goddamn skin and puts me in a piss-poor mood especially after it drives me to fuck up something. It was an easy task, but my mind was elsewhere after the way I woke up this morning.

I just want to go home, kick back, and have a beer to end this shit-tastic day. The last thing I need is company at the house, but that’s exactly what I see when I pull into the driveway.

Fucking great.

Sophie and Maddie.

Normally, I don’t mind their presence even when things get awkward, but it’s been more than usual lately ever since Brandon died.

They seem to think we need the distraction.

Lennon has pushed everyone away except Hunter, so the girls come visit us.

Losing Brandon was another wake-up call, one I didn’t know I needed, but after what happened with Emma and helping with the homicide cases, I know all too well how short and unfair life can be.

Still, after the shit day I had, I just wanted to relax at home in quiet. Sophie and Maddie come with talking, lots of talking. Avoiding Sophie makes it easier to accept that we can never be together, but it gets harder when she’s in my damn house invading my personal space.

“Hey, man,” Liam greets as soon as he hears me.

“Hey.” I keep my eyes focused in front of me as I walk toward the kitchen.

“Rough day, big guy?” Maddie asks.

I grunt. “Could say that.”