Page 133 of Slapshot Bride

She remarried my dad, but had to share custody with Mason’s dad. And so, I only saw my half-brother on the weekends, and when he wasn’t with us, he was on the other side of the city, with his dad. I never met his friends. He never brought them because there wasn’t a need.

Fourteen years of Mason having a best friend I’ve never once been in a room with.

And then I got into that friend’s car at a red light.

“Oh my God,” I say.

“He didn’t come to the wedding,” Mason says, to nobody. “I didn't invite anybody from my life to that wedding. It was Preston’s show.”

I put my hand on the back of a chair because I need something to hold.

Easton hasn’t moved. He’s still looking at me, a pained expression etched on his face.

“Sit down,” Mason says. “Both of you. Sit down.”

We sit.

It’s the worst eight minutes of my life. Bread arrives. Nobody touches the bread. A waiter tries twice, reads the table on the third pass, and leaves us alone.

Mason’s hands are flat on the tablecloth. He looks at Easton.

“Have you told her?”

Easton’s jaw locks.

“Told me what?” I say.

“Not tonight,” Easton says quietly.

“Told me what?” I look between them.

“Not tonight, Mason.” And there’s something in Easton’s voice, low and final.

Mason looks at him for a long moment. Then he lets it go. But it dawns on me.

They know something that I don’t. Something that I should know. My chest constricts.

It hurts. Coming from the two people I love the most.

Mason turns to me. “Riley… are you okay?”

I nod. “I’m fine.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not asking about now. Have you been okay? Staying with him…”

Again, I nod.

“Mase, I’m fine. He’s been…” A small smile slips free before I can catch it, and it’s all he needs to see. He faces Easton with a burning gaze.

“You knew what she’d come out of. And you had her in your house, and you sat across from me at a bar and let me give you advice about her…”

“Mason…” Easton tries to say, but he’s not having it.

“About my sister, and you still didn’t make things right. You still…” I see his face contorting with each word, his palms on the table balled into fists, and I know I have to do something. “You fucking pulled her along, and…”

“It’s fake.”

It’s out of my mouth before I can rethink.