Page 73 of Summer Lessons

They were forehead to forehead, and Mason couldn’t ever remember feeling as desperate about anything as he had at this moment.C’mon, baby brother—c’mon. I know it’s hard. I know that the world feels like broken glass right now. I know going outside and dealing with people is scaling an obsidian cliff. But don’t give up. God, Dane, don’t fucking give up.

“He never kissed me back,” Dane said brokenly. “I thought…”

Mason’s heart seized. “But Dane—even if hedoeslove you, how are you going to see it when you’re like this? You can’t seeme,and you’ve known me all your life.”

Dane closed his eyes and leaned his chin against his knees, and lost the battle with sobs. Mason gave up on being on time and turned around and sat with him, their backs against the car, his arm draped around Dane’s shoulders.

Dane eventually leaned his head against Mason, and the sobs died down. “Go get your bag,” he said softly. “I’ll make us better sandwiches. God, Mason—salami for breakfast?”

“If you don’t cook, you don’t bitch,” Mason said, his voice clogged. But he pushed himself up and then gave Dane a hand. Dane went in for a short, fierce hug, and then they went back to their morning like it never happened.

BUT YOUcan’t just erase a moment like that from your heart.

“Jesus, Mason,” Terry said with respect. “I’ve never seen a soccer ball go that far. What the hell’s gotten into you?”

Mason smiled tightly. “Bad morning,” he said, and by now Terry knew him well enough to know what that meant.

“Sorry,” he said, and to his credit he managed not to look at Dane, who was wrapped in blankets and glaring balefully at the field.

Mason shrugged, but he was pretty sure he fooled nobody—a supposition that was backed up by Carpenter as they stood waiting for Skip to score on the other side of the field.

“He looks like hell,” Carpenter muttered. “So do you. Is there anything you can do to help him?”

Mason laughed bitterly. “I force fed him his meds this morning. You got any other ideas?”

Carpenter grunted and play came their way. Mason charged the offense, kicking the ball right out from under his foot and straight to Richie, who was half a field away. Play shifted to the other side of the field and Menendez whooped at Mason and high-fived him.

“I don’t know what’s got you pissed off, man, but use that shit!”

Mason eyed the soccer ball grimly, even as Skip took Richie’s pass and ran it to the goal. “I totally intend to.”

The half came, and Carpenter and Mason stood together, gulping water. “I was going to take him to my folks,” Carpenter said quietly. “My mom loves him. I don’t know if he can turn that shit away.”

Mason nodded. “Good plan.” He’d never met Carpenter’s family, but Mason and Dane were such mama’s boys, he couldn’t see Dane not responding to mothering from an actual mom. “He’s got meds for tonight and tomorrow, but he needs to do homework in the afternoon. He’s falling behind.”

Carpenter grunted. “God. Another year after this—that’s what you said?”

Mason closed his eyes, and Terry came up next to him, patting the small of his back in a gentle way that had nothing to do with guys on the field. “Yeah. If we can just get him through till May, maybe we can lighten the load and make it two.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Carpenter said, and Skip called them back to play.

Mason looked down at Terry, grabbing his hand before they turned away from the bench. “Thanks,” he said softly.

Terry shrugged. “I’ll see if I can do better tonight.”

A wave of lust—pure, unadulterated, without tenderness or sentiment—assailed him, and for a moment, he could have taken Terry right there, in public, snarling and biting, like an animal.

Oh God.

Mason shied away from the image.

“I might be a bastard tonight,” he apologized, wondering if he could find words to tell Terry that he didn’t want his boyfriend—or whatever they were—to see him this way.

Terry winked. “I’m a bastard all the time. Bring it!”

“C’mon you guys! Get your ass out here!” Skip called, and that was the end of the half.

MASON WASbusy talking to Dane and making sure he’d be okay to go with Carpenter when Terry waved and said he’d meet at Mason’s house with sandwiches. Well shit—Mason was going to have to remember how to be a person, how not to wear his fear and his frustration on his sleeve.