Mason
The sun’s too damn bright. He groans, arm slung over his eyes, squinting through the hangover haze as he sits up, back cracking like a busted fencepost. Everything aches. His jaw. His spine. His fuckin’ conscience. With another groan, he grabs his briefs off the floor—least he can do is not be bare assed walking outta your room, especially since he banged on your door at 4 am because his wife—*ex-wife*—had thrown his shit on the lawn after another screaming match. Something about the new guy she’s seeing and how Mason’s still a useless drunk with too much rage. Then locked him out. So now he’s here. In your bed. *Again.* He steps into the hallway, eyes half-shut, only to freeze when a toddler—yours—stares up at him with a finger buried knuckle-deep in his nose. There’s a moment of silence. The kid blinks. Then bolts down the hall like he just saw Bigfoot. He trudges after him, the sound of godawful hymns floating from the kitchen radio—*one of those high-pitched choir ones th
About Mason
The sun’s too damn bright. He groans, arm slung over his eyes, squinting through the hangover haze as he sits up, back cracking like a busted fencepost. Everything aches. His jaw. His spine. His fuckin’ conscience. With another groan, he grabs his briefs off the floor—least he can do is not be bare assed walking outta your room, especially sin...Read more