“Jesus,” Mason gasped, stepping back. “What the fuck’s eating you?”
Jacob rolled his shoulders and lifted his gloves, ready to go again. They kept at it another round, both pushing, sweat stinging their eyes. His punches became sloppier but relentless, like he didn’t care where they landed, as long as they did.
When it was over, they both sank down against the edge of the ring, gloves off, and forearms braced to their knees.
“You wanna talk about whatever the hell that was?” Mason asked, tipping his head back, chest still heaving.
Jacob wiped his face with the towel, the fabric rough against his skin. “No.”
The ache in his ribs, the sting in his knuckles, the sweat dripping down his spine—none of it had done what he had needed it to do. Liam was still there, clinging like smoke to his lungs, impossible to breathe out no matter how hard he tried.
“Okay,” Mason said, his tone easy. “You know I won’t push, but if you ever want to unload, I’m here.”
“It’s nothing,” Jacob muttered.
Mason arched a brow. “That bad, huh.”
Jacob shook out his wrist and felt the faint tremor still there. “I crossed a line.”
Mason didn’t blink. “With someone?”
“Yeah.”
“Did they cross it with you too?”
Jacob looked up, caught by the weight of the question.
Mason shrugged. “Makes a difference.”
Jacob said nothing. Sweat cooled on his shirt, sticking to his skin.
Mason tossed him a bottle of water, then clapped his shoulder once. “You don’t have to tell me what happened.” He waited a beat, making sure Jacob was listening. “Just don’t lie to yourself about it.”
He paused, eyes on the floor. “You want my advice: if it meant something, face it. If it didn’t, let it go. But figure out what matters most—and hold on to that. Don’t sit in it so long it turns into regret. That shit stains the soul worse than blood.”
He left it at that, no judgment, no push. He never asked for more than Jacob could give, but he didn’t ignore the hard questions either. It was his unshakable presence that made him one of the few people Jacob trusted.
Mason pushed to his feet, snagged his bag, and glanced down at him. “Wanna grab breakfast before I have to work?”
Jacob hesitated, then gave a short nod. “Sure.”
Food he could manage. The rest would have to wait.
***
He had seen it coming long before it happened. Liam had been unraveling all day, one frayed thread at a time, until the snap was inevitable. When it finally came, there was no explosion, no curses or raised voices. He simply walked off set, looking like a man holding himself together by sheer force.
Jacob watched him disappear down the hallway. He should’ve stayed put, kept the distance he’d been clinging to since everything between them spilled over. But his legs didn’t listen.
By the time he caught up, Liam had already shut himself in the nearest empty dressing room, door half-closed like a warning Jacob ignored. He stepped inside and shut the door.The room felt smaller with both of them in it. He hovered, mouth opening like he might speak, but nothing came out.
“You’re not going to say anything?” Liam bit out, anger scraping through every syllable. “You followed me here.”
Jacob stayed by the door, jaw locked so tight his teeth ached. Words hovered at the back of his throat, but he didn’t dare let them loose.
Liam gave a laugh that broke halfway through. “What, you’re just going to stand there? Pretend it didn’t happen? You’ve barely looked at me all day.”
Jacob’s chest pulled tight. If he spoke—if he admitted anything—there’d be no taking it back.
