Fallen Crest Home (Fallen Crest High #6)

He shrugged, glancing to where Channing was standing. “I kind of want to see him fight.”


There was no ‘kind of.’ He wanted to. I could hear it in his voice, and I knew a part of Mason missed those days. It felt simpler back then. They could fight and not care about the consequences. Things were different now. Futures had to be considered. Decisions made now could harm someone’s career.

I slipped my hand into his and squeezed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For coming here and not thinking about what I was going to be walking into.”

He shrugged again. “It’s okay. I got Matteo here and we’ll deal with whatever happens.”

I saw how he was watching Channing. He wanted to support his friend and I glanced to my friend from the reminder. I didn’t feel like the good friend to her.

“Come on.” He pulled me off the truck and his hand rested snug on my back.

He started for the fighting tent, but I stopped him. “Heather doesn’t talk a lot about Channing or even about Roussou with me. If there’s any part of you blaming her for bringing me here, don’t. It’s my fault. I should’ve known, and a part of me didn’t because I don’t talk to her about this part of her life. I haven’t been a good friend to her.”

Mason’s eyes held mine, sparking a different feeling inside. The nerves were still there, but they mixed with another kind of tension. We’d returned home, and now that we were here, we needed to face the music. It didn’t make sense to me, but what I’d said was true. I couldn’t be friends with Heather if I only got half of her. That wasn’t being the true friend I thought I was.

My mouth felt dry, and I didn’t say any of those words to Mason, but he’d been watching me. And as if he’d read my mind, as I was sure he could, his eyes softened.

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I know, but I can’t lie. I don’t like owing someone else for covering my back. It’s nothing against Channing. I like him. I respect him, but he’s not family. Logan and Nate are, and neither one is here.” His fingers laced with mine. He started forward, leading me. “And I have to be very careful what I do. Any leaked video could be the end of my career.”

That was the feeling I had—the other kind of nervousness. My stomach dropped to my feet, with the rock and everything.

Looking around, I noticed again how many people were paying attention to us. I’d felt like this when Mason was in high school, and it had only gotten worse in college, but standing here now, among this rougher crowd, it was different. People wanted to know Mason so they could use him at Cain. It wasn’t like that here. These people wanted to hurt him.

And I was one way for that to happen.

I’d been so stupid.





The heat was almost suffocating when we got inside, and Heather waved us over to their corner. They’d taken up position near an opening in the tent, so a small breeze wafted in, giving us some respite. Channing wasn’t there anymore, but his friends moved in around us. Or mostly they moved in around Mason and me. All of them, Mason included, glanced around, and I had to kick myself again.

I’d forgotten how much he was hated.

As if reading my mind, Mason gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. I slipped my fingers between his, and despite the heat, he pulled me in front of him. We stood like that, holding hands, my back resting against his chest. I caught Heather giving us a grin as a loud cheer rose up.

A guy wearing a white robe hopped into the makeshift boxing ring. As the crowd continued to cheer, he thrust two fists in the air, and they really let loose. He began bouncing around, doing a little jig with his feet until a guy yelled from the sidelines and tossed him a microphone. The robe guy stopped and caught it, and then suddenly the tent grew quiet. He pulled his hood up, standing smack in the middle of the ring, and gripped the mic. We could hear him breathing.

“Are you guys ready?” he whispered first.

There was silence. A guy yelled out, a beat later, “Yeah!”

“Are you guys ready?” he asked, a fraction louder, not quite a whisper.

“Yes!” The same guy yelled back, joined by others.

Fists started shaking in the air and more called out, “Let’s go! Let’s start.”

“I said—” He shoved his hood back and raised his face. “Are you READY?!”

“Fuck yes, motherfucker!”

I jolted, bumping into Matteo, who stood next to us.

The guy behind us had roared that, and when he noticed my reaction, he flashed me a grin. “Sorry. I get heated.”

I nodded. “Noted.”

The announcer yelled something into the microphone, but I couldn’t hear him. The crowd drowned him out, but I gathered he’d announced the first fight.

After a fast knockout, he introduced the second and third fights the same way. I had to step outside to see if the ringing in my ears would go away when the volume decreased, or if it was permanent.

I still wasn’t sure ten minutes later when Heather motioned me back in. The last fight was starting, Channing’s fight.

The crowd was insane. The bloodier the matches, the better. The announcer stepped back into the ring. He held his hands up, and the crowd quieted. Mason gripped my thigh, and I stepped back into him. Just feeling him steadied me.

Heather looked over her shoulder. I followed her gaze, and there was Channing. He wore no shirt, and his black sweats hung low from his hips. Channing was a good-looking guy, and I could see what the others were seeing. He was ripped. But as he stood there, swinging his arms back and forth and jumping lightly up and down, it wasn’t him that I was seeing.

I saw Mason.

He was the one getting ready to fight.

He was the one everyone was watching.

He was the one everyone wanted to fight.

I could feel an underlying pressure from those around us. People kept glancing at Mason, and I knew Caldron was glaring from across the ring. People really did want to see Mason fight. Yet another wave of self-loathing came over me. I shouldn’t have come here. What was wrong with me?

A new roar rose from the crowd, and I turned to see Channing heading for the ring. His opponent climbed in from the other side. After another round of announcements, the fight began. I still couldn’t shake the sensation of Mason being involved.

As Channing ducked, I saw Mason ducking. He hit the other guy with an undercut, and I could almost feel Mason’s hand tensing. Channing danced back, evading punches and returning with his own. This went on until eventually, the other guy wore out. Then Channing went in for his win. He ended the fight in one round, delivering a knockout punch right before the bell rang.

The guy fell, and he didn’t move.

Channing was the winner.