Duke: Dark College Bully Romance (Bastards of Bainbridge Hall Book 3)

What the hell is Lennon talking about with “the last time”? My heart squeezes hard in my chest. I glance to my side, seeing Bear having much the same goddamn reaction. Mason, though—his level of surprise is not in line with ours. He obviously knows shit about her that we don’t, and whether that information came to him minutes ago or weeks ago, I have no idea.

Mason wets his lips, then presses them together with a shake of his head. I read the We’ll talk later clear as day in his eyes. Doesn’t fucking help that I want to know right fucking now, but I tamp down the irrational urge to demand more information for Lennon’s sake. Because I don’t want to cause this girl an ounce of grief. I don’t want her to hurt another second in her entire life, but I’m really fucking scared that what she went through tonight has done damage.

I don’t know how I’ll live with myself knowing she somehow was drugged, taken, and … abused … all right here under our goddamn noses. But how did it happen? Where the fuck was she? My inner self screams with fury, but outwardly, I keep it contained. Controlled. Because that’s what I’m best at. And in this case, it’s necessary. It would be bad to have me lose it right now, not with Bear’s current behavior being so unpredictable and Mase’s switch too easily flippable. I pass a few towels to him in the shower stall and wait, watching Lennon carefully for clues.

She bends and wraps one towel around her head and hair while Mason dries off her body with another and wraps it around her before hurriedly securing a third towel around his waist. I hover at the shower opening, holding a hand out to her as she steps toward me. “Feel better?” I scrape my teeth firmly over my lower lip.

Our eyes connect. I don’t like the turmoil I see there. She draws in one breath and then another before nodding. “Yeah. A little. I still don’t feel right.” She holds a hand up. “And before you ask again, I don’t know what the hell happened. It’s mostly a blank.” Her eyes flick to Bear. She looks like she wants to say something to him about his earlier tirade, but she doesn’t … and boy is it written all over his face that he’s seriously regretting losing his shit. Taking a breath, her head swivels toward me. “Can you help me dry my hair?”

I nod, ushering her over to where I’d set the dryer on the counter, and we spend the next few minutes getting her hair semidry, then Mason helps her into panties and the T-shirt Bear had brought for her.

“Lennon,” Bear mumbles, running a hand through his already disheveled hair, his exhausted face drawn and tense.

Yep. Saw this coming.

Her gaze finds his, her brows raising at the apology already present in the big guy’s gruff voice. “Yeah?”

He comes to stand in front of her, placing his hands on either side of the countertop, gingerly leaning part of his weight on his right hand. He winces, and my brow furrows. Don’t like that one bit—especially not with a fight tonight—but it sure does fuckin’ explain things. “Baby, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I was frustrated, and the last person I should have taken it out on was you.” His chest rises and falls quickly as he stares into her eyes. “I was scared.” For several quiet, heartbreaking moments, she searches his gaze before audibly exhaling. Grasping his head between her hands, she tugs him closer until their foreheads touch.

I get Mason’s attention, jerking my head toward the bedroom. Giving a quick nod, he leads the way out, shutting the door behind us to give them some privacy. “Something is wrong. His arm. Those prescription meds he said he had and that he’s out of. He’s—”

“Taking shit he shouldn’t be.” With regret, I voice the earlier thought that’d run through my head out at the pool house. Jesus, was that really earlier this evening? “Mase, I have serious doubts he’s seen an actual doctor at all. And I’d bet a lot of money at Daddy Pierce’s poker table that his old man is the supplier.”

Pacing, Mason winces. “If Bear’s been taking narcotics or something similar, and all of a sudden he’s run out, that explains the erratic, mean behavior, the pain he’s in— He’s going through withdrawal. With some of that shit, it happens pretty fast. How much you wanna bet that’s what he stayed to discuss with his dad?” Mason shoots me a disgusted grimace. “That evil fucker. The only good thing about him is Bear, and it seems like he’s determined to fuck him over. If his coach—or worse, scouts—get wind of what’s going on … Fuck. Bear should know better,” he hisses, stopping at the side of the bed and turning to face me.

“I agree. I say we sit him down soon.” I pause, my teeth clenching. “You know, when we’re not overwhelmed with our current shitstorm.”

Mason’s eyes are as dark as sin, a wild chaos in them that worries me. “Yep. As much as I hate to say it, and as fucked as Bear’s situation is, we’ve got other things to talk about.”

I exhale heavily. “I need out of these fucking clothes. I’m gonna do that real quick, then I’ll tell you what Warren had to say.”

“Deal. I’ll find something to throw on, too.”

It doesn’t take either of us more than two minutes. I’d stripped and put on a pair of shorts. Mason hadn’t even bothered with shorts, just lost the towel and slipped into a pair of boxer briefs. Hopefully I can focus despite his choice to run around in his fuckin’ underwear, because we’ve got shit to discuss.

Standing beside Bear’s bed, Mason throws out a hand. “So, what’d Warren have to say for himself?”

I scrub my hands over my face, frustration building within me. “He knows nothing. Went to see Maria after the auction—she gave him hell for attending, even though she knew damn well he didn’t have a choice. The bitch broke things off with him. Again. He said he was with her from like twelve-thirty until two having a knock-down, drag-out fight. Came home, went up to his room, got shit-faced, and passed out.”

He grabs the back of his neck, tugging on it absentmindedly as he considers Warren’s story. “That checks out, I think. He wasn’t in bed the first sweep I made of the bedrooms, but the second time I checked, he was facedown on the mattress. Alone. That would’ve been around three, before we all passed out from sheer exhaustion.”

I nod. “He said he woke up to Maria shrieking at him—how the fuck she got into the house, I’d love to know—with Lennon lying beside him, sans clothing. He has no memory of how she got there or when, but it had to have been sometime after three.”

Mason’s eyes lock with mine. “And you believe him?”

“Yes.” There’d been no doubt in my mind or Bear’s at all. “How the fuck do we handle this?” Fucking hell. I have a feeling we’re going to be stuck in a wait-and-watch situation. “What a fucking disaster.” Keeping my voice low, I whisper roughly, “How did Lennon seem when you had her alone?”

He shrugs, then throws his hands up. “A little out of it. Still dizzy and not feeling so hot. Had to have been drugged. I don’t think just alcohol would do that. I mean, I know the phrase blackout drunk exists for a reason, but this is beyond.” I nod my agreement, and gesture that he should continue. “Nothing seems to make sense to her. She’s really fucking confused and uncertain about everything.” He rakes his hands through his hair, his gaze darting to the bathroom door. “I don’t know what she fucking meant by ‘the last time’ this happened, and she made another reference to it while we were in the shower. She expressed concern over what had actually happened while she was blacked out.”

My heart plummets into the depths of my gut. I rub a hand over my face. “Jesus.”

“She’s assuming she was assaulted in some way”—Mason pauses to force a hard swallow—“not raped—she didn’t think there had been penetration.” He releases a disturbed sigh. “She said something like, ‘I’ve been there before,’ like she’d know it if it’d happened. Only … I don’t know if she meant for me to hear that part. But it goes right along with the shit about no one being there for her the last time. And she woke up naked, so who the fuck knows. I don’t know what the fuck to make of any of it. I knew there was trauma from her childhood, but—” He shakes his head, clamping his lips shut.

Seeing the twisting torment slash across his features, I step closer, grasping him just above the elbows. He’s keeping something from me. I know Mason too well, and the way he’s getting a little shifty—I don’t like it. “Fuckin’ talk to me, Mase. Keeping shit from me isn’t going to help.”

He stops to wet his lips. “We know she has issues. I don’t know what’s connected to what, though. She told me—in confidence—something that happened when she was really little, but I think that’s more connected to the claustrophobia and panic attacks. There’s something else, though. And I think it’s the trigger for all the sleep shit—whatever incident she’s referring to from before.” He grabs at the back of his neck, yanking hard, and attempts to hide from my prying eyes, looking toward the closed bathroom door. With a deep breath, he meets my gaze, his worry blazing at me. “Duke.” He stops, exhaling hard. “Look, I don’t know how to fucking tell you this, but I think it has to do with Juliette.”

I drop my hands from his arms and step backward, eyeing him warily, then blink. Because surely he didn’t fucking say what I think he did. No. The synapses in my brain refuse to fire. It takes me several seconds before I’m able to force out a question. “I’m sorry, what?” As I stare at him, waiting for an explanation, he grits his teeth and tries to close the distance between us again, but I shift away, holding up a hand in front of me to stop him. “Tell me.”

Mason lets out a disgruntled groan. “On at least one occasion, I’ve heard her call out to Juliette. And I’m worried that it’s been more than once—I was a little out of it the one night I went in to help her.” He watches me steadily, and I almost begin to laugh just from the sheer insanity of it. “During the nightmare she had in the attic—Duke, Lennon definitely cried out Juliette’s name. Pleaded with her to wait so she could talk to her.” Looking at the wood floor between us, he swallows hard. “She made it seem like Juliette was scared of someone.” Mason raises both hands to his head, shaking it as he grips dark strands of hair in his fists. “The day she ran from you? I fuckin’ found her at Juliette’s grave.”

Why wouldn’t he have told me? My eyes crash shut so I don’t have to look at him while I teeter on the edge of having an internal breakdown. The torment in his eyes is more than I can handle.

While I wasn’t looking, he dared to step back into my space, and the heady scent of his citrus-and-mint bodywash now fills my senses. “I’m fucking sorry. Bear and I didn’t think it was great timing, what with the anniversary of her death. You weren’t in the right state of mind to hear any of it.” He brings up a hand to cup my jaw. Quietly, he murmurs, “You weren’t, D.”

“And apparently, I’m still not. The fuck.” I wince, wrenching away from him and walking over to the window.

Mason follows, as I expected he would. I stare out into the dark for several seconds while bracing my hands on the glass panes and wondering when my friends decided I couldn’t fucking handle my own shit. While I’m lost in thought, Mase grips my hips and curls around my back, resting his cheek on my shoulder. The scratch of his early-morning stubble on my bare skin makes my insides jump unexpectedly. I take a few deep breaths, reveling in the way his body moves with mine, which is fucking weird because I’m also so fucking irritated I can’t think straight.

“I was trying to look out for you,” he mumbles, pressing his lips to the base of my neck. “I’m fuckin’ sorry. I should have said something.”

My head bobs as I nod. Gruffly, I growl out, “Yeah. You probably should have told me.” I turn to face him. “How am I supposed to fucking trust you, Mase?” I feel his betrayal all the way to my core. It cuts bone deep.

He stares at me with wounded eyes but makes no attempt to answer, to salvage things between us. A moment later, the bathroom door opens, and Lennon precedes Bear out. They pause when their gazes land on us, and I turn and pull away from Mason.

“What’s going on?” Bear cocks his head to the side, as if he can see the dangerous electricity jumping between the two of us.

Eyeing Lennon, I grit my teeth before shifting my stare to Bear. “Mase was just telling me how you and he thought it was best I didn’t know that my stepsister’s nightmares have something to do with Juliette.”

Lennon flinches at my “stepsister” reference right before her eyes widen, confusion filling them. Her gaze slides from me to Mason. “M-Mase? What is he talking about?”

Mason stares at Lennon. Hard. “I— You mean—?” He sucks in a breath. “I thought you knew.”

“I-I don’t understand.” Everything from the tremor in her voice to the shock registering on her pretty features tells me Lennon is oblivious to what she’s said while in the throes of her nightmares. Absolutely clueless.

My focus shifts back to Mason, and I can practically feel his heart sinking simply by looking at the myriad of emotions sliding over his features. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, hesitating. “Kin, that time you had a nightmare in the attic, you called out to Juliette. I, uh … kept it from Duke because, well … bad timing.”

While he speaks, I choose to watch Lennon’s reaction instead. She brings her hands up to cover her mouth, slowly shaking her head. This girl has gone from flat-out confusion to wild-eyed panic over the course of the last five seconds. “Oh god,” she murmurs from behind her fingers. “Excuse me.” She steps away from Bear, slowly at first, until the reality of what we’re saying hits her. She leaves the three of us to stare after her as she bolts to the door.

“She didn’t know.” I groan as realization slams through my head, knocking me sideways. She’s just as surprised by Mason’s revelation as I had been … only the nightmares are hers, and that’s making it hit her even harder than it has me. “Stella!” I dart after her and whip the door open but come to an abrupt halt as she crashes into me. I catch her as she stumbles backward, holding her with both arms wrapped around her middle.

“I—” Lennon gasps, her body shaking so hard against mine, it’s almost worse than it’d been earlier when she was sick and unsteady. She exhales harshly, her focus trained on the open doorway across the hall.