Page 59 of Enemies with Benefits (Finding the Right Brother #1)

He blinked at me and laughed. “God, sometimes I understand how you and Moira were attracted to one another and why the two of you didn't work out in the end."

I stared at him, trying to get my head around that and running into a jumbled mess in my head. I knew what I thought were the reasons Moira and I hadn't worked out, but that had to be different from whatever Mason had cooked up in his head. "Uh...what?"

"You're similar in all the right ways, and all the wrong ways.

You both treat every issue like it's either a world-ending or life-defining problem.

It's so hard to get laughter or enjoyment from either of you, because someone has to watch to see when you're actually enjoying yourselves.

You both get so irritable and testy when things aren't going the way you think they should, and your tolerance for other ways of looking at things is.

..low. I'd bet most of your arguments were because you were both so stuck in your ways, neither of you could see that the other might have a point. "

Okay, that was irritatingly accurate, and I twitched. “And you're any better? You're just pointing out why you think I'm wrong...and why she's wrong."

He shrugged. “People can be wrong according to how I think things should be done.

Sure, sometimes it gets on my nerves, and I get pissy about it, but it's not a big deal. People are always going to get on each other’s nerves, that's just one of the many prices you pay for dealing with people. I just don't get hung up on it."

"Sometimes it's good to get hung up on shit," I frowned.

"You mean like...your son?” he asked, glancing at my pocket. "Did you think I didn't notice that your background picture is Micah?"

My hand stole to my pocket, covering my phone as if to protect it from giving away something personal. "Maybe something like that."

"Something," he repeated, and I glared at him. "What?"

"Nothing," I grumbled. I’d already snapped at him enough, and after our little...make up, I wasn't feeling all that ready to fight. Though knowing how it was between Mason and me, I would find my anger in no time.

He grunted. "So, are we going to get to one of the other big reasons you're pissed off?"

"What, I didn't have enough?" I grumbled, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms.

His brow arched slightly. "Really? Nothing uh...big happened lately? Nothing that might change the course of your life?"

"That's dramatic."

"And not far off the mark either. You've been quiet and moodier than usual, which isn't a problem by itself, but Kayden has been watching you like a hawk.

That guy doesn't get worried, no matter how much you snarl and get all.

..intimidating. The only time I've seen him worried was when you walked into the hotel and lost it on me for the first time in years. "

"You deserved it."

"Not the point. If Kayden is worried about you and trying to hide that he's worried about you, then that's a clear sign."

"Of what?"

"Did you lose your job or are you still suspended?"

I closed my eyes, feeling my arms tighten over my chest, and forced myself to take a breath.

I really should have known that eventually the subject would come up.

Mason couldn't help but see more than I wanted him to, and didn't have the.

..what? Patience? Decency? Or just plain tact not to talk about things I wanted to be silent about.

I could try to make him stop, but what was the point?

The asshole would find a way to rile me up again and get me snapping and breathing fire until I finally broke and told him the truth.

I might as well save myself the trouble and tell him now.

Bastard.

"Captain Staunton decided that in the current era, with the public hypersensitive to even the mention of excessive force from police officers, it was better that I remain out of any headlines.

Although most of my 'incidents' are situations that could be construed as rough but not excessive, this was not one of those times.

So it would cast a bad light on all my previous infractions," I recited, because the words were burned into my brain.

I could still hear the regret in the normally stoic, no-nonsense, slightly bastard voice of my captain.

"And so I will be suspended indefinitely, without pay, until everything can be investigated properly, and then I'll find out the results. "

Annoyance and anger flashed across Mason's face.

He glanced away, looking confused, his eyes sliding up to frown at the sky like he was trying to find the answers there.

He sighed, "Really? The years of hard work being thrown away sounds like standard bullshit, but really?

The public would say you beating the fuck out of a child rapist was too much? "

I had made the same point, and Captain Staunton had pinched the bridge of his nose, "In the years before, yes, probably.

But we're dealing with a time when any violence from officers comes under heavy public scrutiny.

If this catches attention, thousands of amateur sleuths and lawyers will be eager to prove you didn't actually know that's what he’d done, that the man was never given the chance to defend himself, let alone admit to it.

They'll then point out the previous shit I've given you hell about for years, but they'll make you look like a bomb waiting to go off rather than a good man who doesn't know how to control his temper sometimes. "

It had been the first time the captain had said something about me personally that could be taken as a compliment.

He'd complimented my work , but never me personally.

It was then that I knew just how deep in the shit I was.

Because that was the whole problem, not that I was in trouble, but I was right now swimming in shark-infested waters with a seal corpse tied to my back.

And he was worried enough to say something nice about me.

God, I really was in the shit.

I relayed what the captain had said to Mason, leaving out the significance of the compliment.

Mason was a lot of things, but telling him something like that just felt.

..weird. I wouldn't even tell Kayden, but he'd known the captain long enough to notice how weird it was.

But the rest, my uneasiness at the compliment, the implications that had dread sitting on my chest since the realization? Those were things I'd keep to myself.

"Fuck, I hate that he's got a point," Mason growled, turning to smirk at me. "And what did he say when you lost your shit and told him that at the end of the day, all that's bullshit and no way were you going to back down because you mauled a predator?"

I stared at him for a moment, then looked away.

Mason paused, then softly said, "You didn't...did you?"

I hadn't.

"You didn't do anything close to that, did you?"

I hadn't.

"You stood there and let him say that shit. You bowed your head, and you said 'yes, sir' and left."

I had.

"Wow, I..." He turned to face away from me, and I readied myself for the inevitable.

I was pretty sure there was nothing he could say that would be worse than I had already said to myself.

I had stood there and listened to the captain basically tell me I was a dangerous liability, a hothead who shouldn't be allowed to serve, and was told I was practically in the unemployment line as a disgraced cop.

And I had done...nothing. I had bowed my head and taken something I knew in my heart wasn't true.

But I had still done it. Which made no sense, none.

I knew I deserved better, that I had done enough to be given more grace, more respect than to be told to slink off into the shadows quietly and hope I had a job when I came back.

But that was what happened, that was what I had done, and now I didn't know what to do.

I believed in doing the right thing, I believed in righting the wrongs of the world, and I believed in justice.

But time and time again, I found the world telling me I didn't understand how to do those things.

Even now, here with Mason on what should have been a fun night, I had managed to twist that good thing and taint it with my anger and bitterness.

Having the captain lay the facts out before me made me realize that the same thing had happened to the job I loved, that I believed in.

Had I let it happen because deep down I knew I wasn't the person I wanted to be, the one that was fit for that job.

..that duty? Or had I let it happen because some part of me knew I was doing it wrong.

..again. And maybe...just maybe, there was a part of me, wary and mocking, like someone else I knew, who pointed out that maybe both were true and not at the same time.

Maybe I was looking at things wrong, and I should stop being so stubborn and look at the puzzle in another way.

I stiffened when Mason turned around, and blinked when I saw no judgment or anger in his face, but sadness. He reached out and took my arms in his hands, squeezing them. "Look...I’m sorry, alright?"

"You didn't do anything," I said slowly, unnerved by his strange touch. Not that he couldn't be gentle and easy-going, but it was...a lot like the night he'd taken me up to his room after my breakdown. It wasn't just gentle, it was...tender.

He smirked. "Not often I get to hear you say that."

"Yeah, yeah."

His hands slid to my hips and rested there, the gesture comforting and casual.

"But I know this is a big deal for you, and it would be for most people in your shoes.

You didn't say everything, and you don't have to; I can read between the lines well enough to see how bad this is.

..and could be. And I'm sorry your heart is getting broken. "

"Dramatic," I repeated because that one word was all I could manage without my voice sounding weird.

It felt like I was trying to talk around the knot in my chest, and I hated that he had put it there.

I loved it because it felt so close to a clean hurt, but all I knew was that it hurt, and I wanted him to stop.

I wanted him never to stop.

Damn him.

"We take turns," he said with a chuckle, leaning forward and kissing my forehead.

I blinked at him, reaching up. Instead of rubbing off where he'd kissed, I touched the spot gently. "This is?—"

"Different? Weird? New?" he offered.

"All of the above and a few I can't think of," I said, hoping my tone told him that I didn't mind much.

It was weird to see, and I almost wished I could see that part of him when I wasn't in the shit or having a breakdown.

I kind of wanted to see what it would be like to just..

.see it happen. Like when he saw me sometimes, and before he smirked, I'd see the lines around his eyes soften.

For one second there, he felt the same tenderness that had just shown in his eyes, but without some pitiful reason for it, before remembering who he was dealing with, and he put his mask back on for the performance.

That sort of mask play was right up Mason's alley, but.

..no. Maybe with someone else, someone who wasn't me, he might find that side of himself more often.

Things were too abrasive, too aggressive between us for anything gentle to exist. I was finding out how to have fun with whatever we had between us, but he was definitely finding it.

Eventually, he would stop having fun, and I would.

..well, I would figure something out when I didn't have him constantly distracting me.

He looked me over before shaking his head. “I think we should probably call it a night, don't you?"

"You don't have to go back in?" I wondered.

"Nah, Lydia can handle things. She always could, that's why she's my second. And if I ever decide I don't want this place anymore, it's her I’d give it to."

"What would you do if you didn't own this place?"

"I don't know. Nothing right now because I don't have anything else that makes me happy like this place. Maybe something else will come along and I'll want it more, or it will fulfill me more."

"A club fulfills you?"

"What? Does fulfillment have to come from being a cop?

A lawyer? A doctor? From being a therapist or teacher?

Fulfillment comes from whatever makes you feel fulfilled, not from what other people think should fulfill you.

Same thing with happiness, that comes from you, not from some checklist that someone made up and handed to you. "

"Jesus," I grumbled, rubbing my face. "Maybe you're right, and I need to sleep. Because you sound like a college freshman who just had their first philosophy class, but you're also starting to make sense."

He laughed, and I wondered why I always forced myself to ignore how rich and pleasant the sound was, no matter how many times I heard it. “Just blame the alcohol."

I could sense he was ready to move on from the conversation, but I had to ask. “So, you said you'd move on if something else made you happier or fulfilled you more?"

"I did," he said, watching me with a patience I had never given him credit for before, but now I wondered if it had always been part of him, hidden by all the other parts. "What about it?"

"Does that work with people too?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, do you feel that way about people?"

"You're going to look at how close I am with my family and wonder that?"

"Okay, but...just your family?"

"Are you asking about people I've dated or slept with?"

Now that it was put so bluntly, I was feeling uncomfortable at what I’d started, but there was no graceful way to back out. "Y-yeah, sure."

He stared at me for several heartbeats, long enough for me to feel my gut squirm and a buzzing under my skin that was somehow pleasant and not. His mouth curled slowly, like an idea was occurring to him. "Used to."

Used to?

"Come on," he said, pulling out his phone and unlocking it. "Probably a bad idea to take you on the bike with all those drinks sloshing around in your gut. I'll get us a ride and have Lydia drop it off at my place after she gets off. I'm sure she still has her helmet here. She'll love it."

Used to?

"What was virgin about those drinks?" I asked as I followed him toward the road.

"They're for 'virgins' to the club. First timers."

"Oh, that makes a lot more sense."

"You were really wondering about that the whole time?"

"Yeah."

"Seriously, dude, you can just ask instead of holding shit in."

"I guess."

"Stubborn."

"Said the pot."

Used to?

What changed?