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I set aside the hospital bag and picked up his cell to power it on.
“Jasper,” he whispered, but I shushed him.
The lock screen revealed a dozen messages, so I swiped. Other than the few I’d sent, they were all from the same unknown number throughout the day. But, it didn’t take a genius to know who’d written them. Each one was worse than the last—outright threats to give him another chance or Mason would pay. Reminders of how good they had been together, how much Joseph had loved bouncing on Mason’s dick.
I wanted to puke.
You’re being cruel! Answer me!
Text back or you’ll be sorry!
I should have stabbed you in the fucking throat!
“You can’t just let this go, Mason.” I powered his cell back off without replying, glancing up to find him studying his plate. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. This is not your fault. The kid is obviously disturbed.”
“I-I just want it to go away,” Mason muttered.
I rubbed his back as his shoulders sagged. “When you’re done eating, we’re going over to my friend Troy’s house. He’s a lawyer. Maybe he can offer us some direction on what you can do to make him stop.”
“Can I have your dick first?” Mason asked with a suggestive tone, a slight smile curving his lips. He definitely felt better—and had a mischievous, bratty side.
I liked it.
“After,” I promised. “With this shit on my mind, I don’t think I could keep it up and give you the dicking you’ve gone too long without.”
His pupils swelled, cheeks staining red as he stared at me with that hungry look I struggled to deny.
“Nuh uh.” I stood and took his empty plate to the sink before he got the best of my good intentions. “Attorney, then dick.”
* * *
I called Troy while Mason covered his delicious nakedness. My friend said he was free for us to come over and that Silas was still at the office and wouldn’t be home until later.
We hit some rush hour traffic on the way to their condo in Boston. I’d been to their place a couple of times, but the entire wall made of up windows overlooking downtown always blew me away. Their home was an open concept layout, high-end appliances in a chef’s kitchen I would have died to spend hours in.
Same as when we’d gone to the police station, Mason hid behind his public mask, but I had expected it.
Troy offered us both a martini, which we graciously accepted and sat in the living area. Fading sunlight glinted over the State House’s golden dome in the distance, highlighting Troy’s angelic appearance. He was fair to my dark, with pale blue eyes and strawberry-blond hair that had grown longer since I’d seen him last. Also unlike me, he felt free to experiment with his feminine side, oftentimes wearing softer colors I envied and gloss I’d seen Silas lick off Troy’s lips more than once.
But Silas Barlowe was one of a kind. Nothing fazed him, nor did he care what people thought.
I’d expected Mason to put space between us like he’d done when Detective Jenner had questioned us, but he sat beside me on the couch, his shoulder and knee touching mine, reminding me of his insecurity and need for direction.
Mason was nothing like Silas, and although I longed for complete freedom to be myself, I wouldn’t trade him for anything under the sun. We fit in all the other ways that mattered.
“Jasper told me you’re having problems with a stalker,” Troy said.
“Yes.” Mason clutched his martini glass, not having taken a single sip.
“Can you tell me about him?”
Mason glanced at me, the first break in his façade, and I nodded. While I could have shared all I knew, Mason ought to speak for himself. I placed my left hand on his thigh, since he seemed to need moral support. “Go ahead, baby.”
He filled his lungs then spilled the brief story about his dates with Joseph that led to the attack outside the hotel. I’d expected more details, but Mason kept those to himself, exactly as I’d told him to do before speaking with the detective. I hoped to one day hear everything that had gone down that night but only when he was ready. Pushing for more might set him back, and I wanted him comfortable more than anything.
Troy studied him for a few minutes after Mason finished, his gaze assessing. Calculating. “Are you planning on pressing charges?”
A slight shrug shifted Mason’s shoulder against mine. “I would really rather not…I just don’t have the mental capacity to see something like that through to the end.”
