Page 81 of Shamed
The corner of his mouth quirks. “I did tell you to make yourself at home.”
Awkwardly, I gesture at the guitars. “Do you play these or are they just decorations?”
“Occasionally,” he answers, pushing off the doorframe and walking into the room, hands in his pockets. “I find it soothing when the thoughts get too loud, you know?”
Loud thoughts are a daily occurrence for me, but his comment makes me wonder what type of thoughts might plague him. What runs through his mind on those sleepless nights?
Mase takes the acoustic off the wall and sits on the edge of his bed, plucking a few strings with his long fingers. “I can takeyou to work today and tomorrow if you like, since I’m off on weekends.”
“That’s not necessary.”
He huffs through his nose like he expected that answer. “Well, there are no night owl routes close by, so I’ll be picking you up.”
“I can walk or something,” I offer.
“Like fuck you can.”
“Mase . . .” I sigh, exasperatedly. “You can’t give up all your time and sleep running me back and forth to work. What about your friends? Social life?” I suddenly realize I don’t know much about his life outside of the gym or walking me home, and it doesn’t feel right.
He continues playing, not looking up at me. “I’m not letting you walk home at night by yourself. So, either I drive you home or we’ll be taking a stroll together at two a.m.”
Lips pursed, I watch him for a moment, the sounds of the strings coming into focus. It’s not just random chords now. He’s playing a song, and he’s pretty damn good.
“Do you have any siblings?” I blurt.
Surprised by my random question, he looks up with a raised brow, still playing the song. I recognize it now.Brokenby Jonah Kagen. “No.”
“What do you do in your free time?”
He wiggles the end of the guitar. “Besides play this? Workout, visit my mom, go to the women’s shelter to organize more classes with them. Not much.”
I can’t help but notice the lack of friends mentioned.
“Was that why you were at the club that night? Finding women who want to take your class?”
“Yes.”
Soft, gooey warmth surrounds my heart at his answer. Such a selfless pursuit by a selfless man.
“What’s your favorite color?”
Mase smirks, amused, though confusion crinkles his brow. “Black. Although it’s not technically a color.” Setting the guitar aside, he leans back on his hands. “Any other questions?”
Why are you never busy with friends? Why don’t you have a girlfriend? What are the secrets you keep hidden?
I look around the room. “Maybe just one. Did you draw those sketches?”
Looking up, he brushes his gaze over the hand-drawn pictures. “My mom actually did those. When she could still hold a pencil, that is.” A touch of sadness coats his words, and I feel it in my soul.
“They’re quite lovely.”
Mase hums in agreement before returning his gaze to me. “All right. My turn for questions. What time do you have to start work today, and will you be eating dinner here?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Jennifer
Dylan chuckles, his hand wrapped tightly around my neck, then he turns to the side. “Are you ready, Jacob?”
