Page 11 of Ruined

God, there’s no way I’ll tell Mason about it. Not that Logan is back in Portland, and least of all how we met. Mason would go ballistic. Logan was his stepdad, too. He’d get me to tell him Logan’s address, and if I gave it to him, I have no doubt he’d go there and do something stupid.

There’s no need. It’s not like it was planned. It’s not like Logan wanted to meet me like that; it just happened. But that doesn’t make it any less painful.

“So… what’s up?” Mason stops watching Lane sip his soda to instead pierce me with his slate-gray eyes. “What’s wrong?”

He’s always been intense. Intensely annoying. He always walks into a situation assuming he’ll get his way, and no matter how much I fight it, that’s how things usually go.

“I’m fine. I’m alive, see?” I spread my arms wide in exasperation. “Now can I talk to Lane, please? You know I won’t say anything unless you leave.”

“Baby,” Lane says, gazing at Mason, and I nearly throw up in my mouth. “Can you get me a packet of gum from down the street? You know the one.”

He tugs at Mason’s shirt, looking sickeningly cute and pleading. I can’t stand the ridiculous nickname Mason gave him the first time they met, but in this moment, I have to admit it kind of fits.

“The green one?” Mason asks, and Lane nods. “Okay, puppy. Be right back.” He pulls Lane in by the collar around his neck and gives him a needlessly sultry kiss.

When he leaves, I blow out a deep sigh I’ve been holding in. For once, I’m grateful my brother is so smitten with Lane that he’ll do anything for him—even obey a thinly veiled request to stay away.

Lane leans over the table. “Okay, now you can tell me.”

“Why did you let him come?” I mutter, still salty that we’re in this situation in the first place.

Lane smiles sheepishly. “You know what he can be like.”

“An asshole?”

“Persuasive.” Lane’s cheeks flush a bit, and I roll my eyes. He’s claimed that he tried to resist Mason’s advances and didn’t just jump into bed with him, but I have a hard time believing that. I know what he means, though. It’s like I mentioned: my brother always gets what he wants.

I tilt my half-empty mug, swirling the hot chocolate around. “If I tell you, do you promise not to tell Mason?”

Lane squirms in his seat. “I’ll try.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“Oh, come on! You know what he’s like.”

“It’s not like he’ll torture it out of you.”

“He has his methods.” Lane winks, making it obvious what he’s alluding to.

I grimace. “Even if he denies you sex for a week, promise not to tell him.”

“I promise I’ll try not to tell him. It’s the best I can do,” he mumbles, gaze downturned. “I don’t want to lie to you again.”

Well, that’s fair, I guess. He spent the whole summer lying, so he’d better make it up to me. Only truths from now on. I just don’t know if it’s good enough. But we’re running out of time before Mason returns from the shop, so I need to act quickly and blurt out the words that hang at the tip of my tongue.

Leaning in close over the table, I whisper, “He’s here.”

“Who?” Lane raises a brow.

“Logan.”

“Wait…” His eyes widen. “You saw him?”

“I met him.”

Lane blinks. “What? How? I thought⁠—”

“I went on a dating app, okay? And I didn’t see his face, and when I met him⁠—”