He scoffed. “Because his face looked like he wanted to rearrange yours.”
“He’s pissed.” And rightfully so.
“Yeah.” Mason chewed, then swallowed. “You don’t look surprised.”
I didn’t respond to that.
He took my silence as encouragement to continue. “I’ve lived with Keaton long enough to know he doesn’t do that over nothing. He gets annoyed when the kitchen is a disaster. That”—he pointed to the living room—“was different.”
I leaned back against the dresser. “Do you always grill the new guy this much?”
He grinned. “Only when I want to know something.”
“Lucky me.”
“Very lucky. Okay.” He lifted his hands as if backing off. “I don’t need your life story. I just need you to survive living here without turning the hallway into a crime scene.”
“I’m not here to fight him.” I felt like we’d already gone over this, since he’d mentionedDatelinebefore, but clearly theguy wasn’t going to give up until he knew the story. Despite his efforts, I wasn’t going to tell him, even though it was also my story to tell, because I didn’t know how much Mason and the other guys knew about Keaton.
Mason studied me for a moment. “All right. Then I’ll give you the best advice I’ve got.”
I waited. I’d known Keaton since we were ten, so I was certain I knew him better than anyone, but it had been four years since we’d seen each other, so maybe Mason knew the newer version of him better than I did.
“Don’t look at him like you want to punch his face in.”
I kept my expression blank. “I wasn’t looking at him like that.”
If anything, it was Keaton who wanted to hit me for what happened.
Mason’s grin returned. “Sure.” He shoved the last bite of his slice into his mouth, chewed, then spoke around it. “But listen, I’m not trying to make it worse. I’m trying to keep it from getting worse.”
“It’s already bad,” I replied.
Something in his expression softened a fraction. Not pity. Not sympathy. Just a quick flash of humanity beneath the jokes. “Yeah. I know. That’s why I’m here with pizza, acting like your emotional support golden retriever.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
He saw it anyway. “There it is. You do have a sense of humor.”
“Don’t spread rumors.”
“I’m definitely spreading rumors.” He pushed off the desk and took the pizza box. “Come hang out in the living room. Play something. Watch something. Whatever. You live here now, so you might as well act like it.”
“I’m fine.”
He gave me a look. “All right. I’ll stop pushing, but you should eat some more.”
I stared at him for a second, then took another slice because he clearly wasn’t going to let it go.
His grin turned smug. “Knew it.”
“Take your victory and go.”
He backed toward the door, pizza and beer in hand. “This is the cleanest depression cave I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s not what this is.”
