Nate grinned and moved towards the freezer. “Sam, do you have ice packs in here?”
I shrugged. Mason nudged me against him again. He pressed a kiss to my stomach and my hand cradled the back of his head. The knot in my stomach unraveled a bit more. “Probably. Garrett seemed to have everything here.”
“Ah ha!” Nate produced three ice packs and tossed them over.
Each of them was caught in a smooth grab.
“We’re sleeping over.” Logan pressed his against his cheek and closed his eyes from the pain. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah. Uh, I think there are some bedrooms downstairs. You and Nate could use those.”
They both nodded.
Then Mason stood and moved into the kitchen. He started to look through some of the drawers and cupboards.
“What are you looking for?”
“Brandy. Your dad has to have some.”
My stomach kicked again. My dad. He wasn’t my dad. Well… I spread my hand against my stomach again. It kept doing somersaults. “I think there’s a cabinet in the living room.”
“I got it.” Nate found it and pulled out a bottle. He started to pull out four cups and held the last one out towards me. I shook my head. Three cups were placed on the table and he filled each one to the top. The three were stiff as they picked up their glass and tipped their heads back.
“Oh—ugh.” Logan wiped a hand over his mouth. His eyes watered a bit. “That stuff is nasty.”
Mason grunted and put his cup back down. “It’ll help with the pain.”
Logan groaned. “I’m going to bed. Where’d you say the room is?”
I showed them the rooms, and Nate and Logan bid me goodnight as I started up the stairs. Mason wasn’t in the kitchen, so I went up the next set of stairs and found him in my bed. He had pulled on a loose tee shirt with baggy sweat pants tied at his waist. His eyes were closed with the ice pack held to his ribs.
I shut my door and took a breath.
“You okay?” One of his eyes opened a crack.
I shook my head. “I’m supposed to ask you that.”
He held a hand to me. “Come here. I just want to sleep. Is that okay?”
I nodded, my throat was thick with emotion, and I padded over to him. It didn’t take me long to get ready for bed. I took his hand and crawled beside him. On a normal night, I would’ve nestled under his shoulder with an arm over his stomach. I curled into a ball beside him this night and held his hand.
As I heard his breathing quicken from the pain, I wanted to cry.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When my doorbell rang at six in the morning, I had a good idea who was on the other side. I threw a baggy sweatshirt on and hurried to the door in my sweat pants. James gave me a tired look when I opened the door. “We seem to be starting a tradition.”
“Um, yeah.”
Then the gentle smile turned serious. He expelled a deep breath. “Are they here, Samantha?”
I nodded, my throat still thick from a few hours prior.
He nodded and grimaced. “The police arrived at my home twenty minutes ago. They would like to speak with them.”
“Okay. I’ll wake them up.”
“Have them come to the house. They’re waiting for them.”
When I woke Mason, he turned his head to me. There was no reaction, only a bleak look in his eyes. The bruises had filled with more color. Somehow, they made his green eyes seem brighter. A soft curse slipped from him as he ran a hand over his face. Then he lifted the sheets and swung his legs over. His stomach muscles bunched together under the tee shirt that was stretched tight from the movement. As he stood, his pants slipped down and rested on his lean hips.
There was another large bruise on his hip. A red rash spread over it and the knot doubled in my throat. Dried blood was smeared over the rash. Some was in clumps, they looked black. I was sick to my stomach. “What happened?”
He glanced down and grimaced. Pain flitted over him as he rasped out, “They dragged me.”
“They what?” I swung back to the rash. “That’s a road rash?” I went numb as I asked it. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe what else must’ve happened to them. I needed to know. I swallowed my knot. “How many?” My voice came out hoarse, but I cleared it. I needed to know.
He looked away.
I grabbed his chin and turned him back. “How many, Mason?”
“Fifteen.” He didn’t flinch, and his eyes held mine steady.
My hand felt scorched as I reeled backwards. “What else did they do?”
He lifted a shoulder, but it was slow and painful. “Why do you want to know? You’ll have that in your head. You won’t get it out, Sam.”
My teeth ground against each other. “I have to know.”
He studied me a moment, and it was my turn not to flinch. I didn’t. I squared my chin, and my eyes went flat. “Tell me.”