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I met Mace. I was far from looking forward to the meeting, but it was something I couldn’t avoid. In fact, it needed to be done.
    When I had headed outside to work on my bike, I’d veered off to collect the mail first. I had not liked what I’d discovered. Without hesitation, I immediately got on the phone to my brother, and he’d agreed to meet with me a few hours later. Test riding my bike was the perfect excuse. The last thing I wanted to do was worry Jo. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my discovery a secret for long, but my plan, if you could call it that, was to contain the potential shit, so at least I could offer reassurance when I broke the news to her.
    We agreed to meet in a bar, a place a good forty kilometres away from mine. There were too many nosey bastards around locally, who not only knew me, but also most definitely knew Simon, or Mace as most referred to him. Our surname, Mason, didn’t leave much room for the imagination.
    Sitting on the bar stool, I yawned, stretching my arms high and then back before returning to my bottle of Pure Blonde. Taking a deep pull, I set it back on the bar and rubbed my hand over my face. I was wrecked. I’d barely slept over the last couple of weeks, and with the letter I’d discovered in our mailbox that morning, combined with Jo and the baby, plus the crap at work with McKenny, my brain was in overdrive. In literally a few hours, life had become a hell of a lot more complicated, and damn if I knew how to handle the potential shitstorm heading my way.
    I heard the stool pull out next to me, the spot filled by a body bigger than my own. Looking to the side, a spray of colour greeted me, a multitude of bold designs inked to perfection, art that rivalled my own which lay hidden beneath my t-shirt.
    “Shit, brother,” his rough voice greeted me. His fingers rapped on the bar and I saw a slight nod, indicating another round. “Do you need something stronger?”
    Angling myself toward Mace, a ghost of a smile hovered over my lips before I lifted my bottle to my mouth and finished it off. “No. I’m good, thanks.”
    “Sure thing.” He reached out and took hold of his fresh bottle before he continued. “So, you want to tell me what’s going on? Why’d you call me?”
    One thing I could guarantee with Mace was he always cut to the chase. No bullshit, no pretty words; he simply said whatever needed to be said, and sometimes shit that didn’t need to be said, too. I hadn’t seen him in over a year. A goddamn year, yet he’d dropped everything with a simple phone call. He was loyal to a fault, in his own way. I almost laughed at my direction of thought. The word loyalty parading its way around in my head mocking me, scoffing at me and flashing its tits at me in the process.
    “Jo’s pregnant.” I flicked a glance in his direction, looking for a reaction, still not sure what it would be exactly.
    Turning his head toward me, his green eyes, the mirror of mine, held my gaze. Tilting his bottle toward me, his face remained impassive. “Congratulations, brother. That good news?”
    He held still waiting for my response. I sighed, breaking eye contact. Rubbing my face once again, feeling older than my thirty years, I gave a mirthless laugh. “Yeah, it is.” I turned back to face him. “It’s the best thing ever. Jo is freaking the shit out.” He quirked his brow, indicating what I assumed to be a challenge to my own reaction. I gave a genuine laugh at his expression, immediately feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. “What? I’m not, any more. It really is the best thing ever. I’m going to be a dad.” Dad. My heart constricted at the thought before it seemed to swell at the strange emotion. “Can you believe it?”
    I knew I was grinning like a fool. Ever since I’d scooped myself up from the floor after I tripped on something in the bedroom—the story I was sticking with—I’d finally reached a place where I wanted to puff out my chest