Page 191 of Forever Relentless

“It’s not a loss.”

I chewed my inner cheek, and the silence grew between us. “Why are you here?”

“Came to check on my sister.” He signaled for two more beers. “She resigned. I’m here to help her move.”

Move? “Right. Of course.”

“She doesn’t quit well,” he said quietly. “Unlike me, I’ll walk away at the drop of a hat. Bri, she . . . sticks.”

“She’s older and wiser,” I deadpanned, and he gave a hearty laugh.

“You know what we need, Matthews?” he leaned forward. “Shots.”

“Shots?”

He nodded. “You look far too gloomy for someone who won. Let’s perk your ass up a bit.”

“If it was a perky ass you wanted, I think you have the wrong guy. Dustin’s very proud of his butt.”

Mason actually laughed and still ordered shots.

It all got a bit messy, and I think the tequila hit me harder than I expected. At one point, we probably ate more chicken, but I could be lying. The last clear thing I remember was Mason telling me the shot was for Tate.

I know I missed the bus back to campus. I know we were still there close to closing time, and I know my bank account wouldn’t appreciate my binge. Or Coach Holt tomorrow.

I was sitting on a bench on Halston, my head tipped back — not sleeping, definitely not sleeping — when I heard her.

“Jesus Mason.” Then a curse. “Is he sleeping?”

“Not sleeping,” I told them both. “Just resting my eyes.”

“See, he’s resting his eyes.”

“Why are you both drunk?” Briar scolded. “Why are you here?”

“Why is anyone here, sis?”

“Do not start with me, dick. I will walk away right now.” She then contradicted herself. “Get in the car.”

I tilted my head forward to look at her, but I somehow followed through and tilted all the way forward, and only stopped falling off the bench when slim arms caught me.

“Jesus Christ, you weigh a ton,” Briar grumbled.

“Rude. I’m the perfect weight for my height and position.”

I was helped up, and then a stronger arm was around my waist. I was guided into the car by both of them.

“No! Watch his hea—”

I banged my head off the car. “Ow.” I lay down on the back seat. “I’m good, it’s all good.”

“Tell me in the morning, dumbass.”

I heard another thud, and then Mason shook my leg. “Dude, she is not good with drunk people. Zero tolerance.”

“Sounds like B.”

“B?” I felt another whack on my leg. “No nicknames.” I heard another door open. “You have nicknames for each other?”