s focused on driving, but I know him well enough to tell that he’s uncomfortable. I wish we didn’t have to talk about this in front of the guys.
“I’ll explain everything later, Char,” I emphasize, hoping that she’ll understand and drop it.
I love Charlotte; she’s my best friend and one of the smartest people I know. But if there’s one word to best describe her, it’s oblivious.
She’s talking a mile a minute. “But I just need to know everything! I’m so happy for you! Oh man, I can’t wait for Anna to find out, she’ll be so excited! Wait, she’ll definitely be excited, but then she’ll for sure be pissed because you never told her. Do you think she’ll hit you? She might hit you.”
Mason’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, his knuckles going white.
I turn around in my seat and look at Charlotte, sitting in the back between Chase and Noah.
“I’ll tell you and Anna together, after.” I try really hard to put an emphasis on it without making it obvious, and exaggeratedly move my eyes back and forth from her and Mason.
Her eyes widen, finally getting the hint, and she nods. Unfortunately, Chase and Noah don’t.
“But we still want to know!” Chase exclaims, and Noah nods in agreement.
Before I can think of a reply, Mason turns up the radio, the music blasting so loud through the speakers the car practically shakes. Yeah, guess that’ll effectively end all conversation.
After we drop everyone off, Mason lowers the radio, and we sit in an awkward silence as he drives.
“How’s your hand?” he asks, glancing at my right hand in my lap.
I give my hand a dirty look. “Who cares, I’m mad at it.”
“You’re mad at it?” he repeats.
“Yeah. That was my supercool, stand up to the man moment, and it will forever be marred by the fact I broke my hand.”
Mason laughs, and the air around us starts to feel lighter. “Cheer up. You don’t know if it’s broken.”
I hold up my hand for him to see—my middle finger is swollen and actually looks a little crooked.
He looks at it and grimaces. “Ohh. Why don’t we just stay positive?”
I laugh humorlessly. “God, I’m so embarrassing. Everyone’s gonna be all ‘Hey, how’d you break your hand?’ And I’m gonna have to be like ‘Well, actually, I was tryna be all tough and punch someone. But jokes on me because his face broke my hand!’”
“Hey,” Mason says, “if you didn’t break your hand throwing a punch, you wouldn’t really be Amelia Collins. You like to keep things interesting. Never a dull moment with you.”
I’m technically not really Amelia Collins, but I get what he means. My life is just one constant shit show after the other.
“Yeah, I guess.” I sigh. “It might just be karma for punching a guy whose dad just died.”
“Aiden punched him and everything’s working out just fine for him,” Mason mumbles.
My head snaps over to look at him, but he’s not even looking at me, focusing on driving.
“I wish Anna could’ve seen it.” I change the topic. “She would’ve been so proud. How many times has she wanted to punch him? Like, a million. Actually, she probably would’ve done it first.”
“Yeah. She probably wouldn’t have broken her hand either.”
I scowl at him and he laughs, the old, effortlessly charming Mason back as his chocolate-brown eyes light up with mischief.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He smiles. “Too early for jokes?”
“At least wait until after we leave the doctor’s,” I reply, not mad at him in the least.
“Deal.” He laughs.