Page 37 of The Golden Hour

Mason shuts off the faucet and turns fully to face his father.

His father curls a hand into a fist, and he hears his knuckles crack.

“What the fuck have you done, boy?”

CHAPTER NINE

MASON

Mason’s back slams hard against the lockers.

He winces as the breath is knocked from his lungs. Rob knows the exact amount of restraint to put in the shove to make a point without actually hurting him badly. No matter how much Mason might deserve it, his dad would never beat him. He never had to. One look from his mom and dad usually set his ass straight.

The only time Mason ever saw his dad like this was when he was thirteen. They were eating at the dinner table, and he mouthed off to his mom as moody, hormonal thirteen-year-olds usually did. He doesn’t even remember what he said, only that it was mean, and as soon as it left his mouth, he regretted it.

What he does remember is the way his dad went still, his eyes burning with fury, and his rough voice growling at him to get his ass in the garage, where he subsequently put the fear of God in him for disrespecting his mom.

“She may be your mother, boy,” he growled. “But she is my wife.”

His dad has the same look in his eyes now, burning Mason where he stands. Rob is a couple of inches taller than Mason’s six feet, so he looms over him, putting his face in Mason’s and growling.

“Did I raise you to neglect your wife?”

“No—”

“Speak up!” Rob shouts, the sound echoing in the empty locker room.

Mason swallows hard and straightens. “No, sir.”

“Really? Because what I’ve just heard from Phil tells me otherwise.” Rob’s lip curls in disgust, his beard twitching. “I know this year has been busy for you. I know sacrifices had to be made. But I couldn’t fucking believe what I was hearing. My daughter-in-law was making all the sacrifices, while my son—my son—was reaping all the benefits.”

With each truthful word, Mason feels himself wilting into nothing. The shame is so powerful that it’s choking him.

“I have to hear that my son wasn’t coming home to his pregnant wife,” Rob growls. “And then when he was home, he wasn’t really there. He wasn’t supporting her in the most vulnerable time of her life.”

“Dad—”

“Shut the fuck up and listen!” he snarls, making Mason jump. “You didn’t come to the shower, and I was pissed at you, but I let your mama handle it.”

Mason winces, remembering the phone call where he was reamed out by his mom. Thankfully, he was pulled away when a trauma arrived.

He thinks that only made her angrier, though.

Rob puts his enraged face right in Mason’s, his teeth bared. “But this? You’re my kid, my responsibility. My failure. You better be glad that I talked Phil down because he was considering murder.”

Mason flinches at the thought of his father-in-law. All six-foot-three, two-eighty-five of him. Built like a brick shithouse. He intimidated him when he came to get Honey on their first date, and her dad answered the door. But Phil was always friendly, and he used to say he was proud that Honey found a man who treated her like a princess.

His eyes squeeze close in misery.

They used to be perfect.

Not perfect in the never-make-mistakes way. Mistakes happened, conflict arose, and they’ve seen every single version of each other—and they still chose each other.

He loves Honey with everything in him, but somewhere along the line, he got lazy. He got complacent. He expected Honey to just be there for him always because that’s how they’ve always been. Taking and taking and taking without returning anything to her.

What did he even give her besides a paycheck?

He took her for granted.