Chapter 4
Chapter four
Mason
The station’s quiet, just the low hum of the fridge and the occasional clink of mugs being put away by whoever’s still awake.
I’m six hours through the back half of a twenty-four, and I volunteered for the shift. Hell, I begged for it. Figured the exhaustion might drown out the last voice note she sent me.
It hasn’t. It’s sitting on my phone, haunting me.
Red.
Fuck, just thinking her name makes my chest ache. I didn’t expect her to message again after the one I ignored, but she did. Twice. Then a third—the voice note. That one I deserved.
I shut my eyes, her words burning my eyelids.
Thought you were better than ghosting, but apparently not. Thanks for making me feel like an idiot. I hope whatever your reason is, it was worth it.
It wasn’t.
It really, really fucking wasn’t.
Footsteps echo down the hallway, and I lift my head. It’s Beck—boots unlaced, mug in hand, sleep creasing his face.
“You’re up.”
“So are you,” I mutter.
He shrugs. “Call earlier shook me a bit.”
“Yeah.” I rake a hand through my hair. “Glad the kid was alright.”
Beck grunts and drops into the armchair across from mine. He takes a sip of whatever sludge he calls coffee, then fixes me with a look. “You up messaging that girl again?”
“Nah.” I grimace. “That’s dead in the water.”
“Shit,” he mutters. “Sorry, didn’t mean to poke.”
“S’okay.” I rub the back of my neck as Evan walks in, making his way to the coffee machine. “It’s not like she ghosted me.”
Evan turns, brows pulling together. “Wait—you ghosted her?”
The disbelief in his voice punches harder than it should.
“You told us she was different,” Beck says, propping a boot on the coffee table. “You were halfway gone over her.”
I close my eyes and let my head drop back against the recliner.
“I know.”
“You don’t ghost someone you care about,” Evan says carefully. “Especially not someone who made you talk.”
And that’s the thing, she did. She made me talk. About my job, my cat, the shit I never say out loud. About Christmas. My dad. Everything I’ve buried so deep I figured it’d stay buried.
“She asked if I wanted to meet,” I say quietly. “And I panicked. Just… left her hanging.”
The silence in the room is brutal. Evan leans a shoulder against the doorway, raising his brows. “You never thought you would?”
“I’d thought about it, but when she asked…” My voice comes out rougher than I intend. “I didn’t even reply.”
Beck nods, pursing his lips. “So instead of being an adult, you ghosted her.”
I don’t answer.
“Jesus, Fletch,” Evan mutters. “It’s been...”
Three years. Since Connie, and the Christmas where everything cracked. Since I held my dad’s hand in his hospital bed and told him I was going to ask her to marry me.
Three years since I walked through my front door on New Year's Eve, with two coffees and an engagement ring in my pocket, only to find her in bed with another guy. One she’d been sleeping with for months.
Dad’s hand had tightened around mine when I told him the next day. Didn’t say anything, just gave me a look like he already knew I wasn’t going to come back from it clean.
He was right.
I went on a three-month bender. Hookups, booze. Bad decisions. Let the crew down because I showed up late or hungover. Barely got my shit together before Dad passed.
“Maybe she deserved more than silence,” Beck says, quieter now.
“I know.”
But everything about Red felt dangerous. The way she listened, the way she laughed. The way she made me want more and then asked for it.
“Thought you liked her,” Evan says after a beat.
I rub my face, rough palms scraping over day-old stubble.
“I did.”
I do.
“She doesn’t even know my name,” I remind them. “Or what I look like. It was just voice messages. And I’m pretty sure she hates me now, so… that’s it.”
“That’s not it,” Beck says. “You don’t look like this over just voice messages.”
And he’s right, it wasn’t just the messages—it was her.
“Wanna know the worst part?” I murmur. “Swore I’d never let anyone get close again, and then she showed up outta nowhere. Just this… sexy voice. Snarky and bright and so fucking real. Made me feel like I wasn’t a fuckup.”
I exhale.
“So yeah, I ghosted her. Because if she met me, she’d figure it out. And I’d be broken all over again.”
There’s a long pause, and Beck’s eyes flick to Evan.
They were there, both of them. When I stopped sleeping, when I’d sit in Neverland until 3 a.m. just to feel like the world still had noise in it.
Beck used to show up and nurse a single drink for hours, just to keep me company. Evan dragged me out for breakfast more times than I can count. Colt would wordlessly hand me a protein shake after shift and walk away.
No one ever said get over it, they just stayed.
“She knew more than most people do,” Beck finally says. “And she still wanted to meet you.”
Evan nods. “Might not be too late to fix it.”
I don’t answer, because I don’t know if that’s true. All I know is I’ve been punishing myself ever since. Taking on shifts no one else wants, covering for the guys with kids so they can be home for the holidays.
Mom's with her sister this year—first time she’s left Ontario since Dad died. Said she needed a change of scenery and invited me to come along. I told her I was working, and that was true. Mostly.
I stand and stretch, glancing at the day room clock. “You guys want anything from Flora’s?”
Evan grins. “You bribing us with a 5 a.m. pastry so we forget you’re an emotionally unavailable idiot?”
“Yup.”
He tosses me his order, and Beck mutters his under his breath.
By the time I make it back to the station, I’ve committed to working Christmas Eve.
Swapped shifts with Colt, told Evan I’d pick up the overnight.
And when Chief Rhodes told me I wasn’t allowed to work Boxing Day, the Canadian holiday following Christmas, I volunteered to run the station’s annual food drive down at the lake instead.
I crash for a few hours that afternoon, then head to Neverland after shift. The usual crowd’s in—local cops, a few paramedics, some of the crew from across town. I sit at the bar with a club soda and try not to think about her, but fail miserably.
She would’ve liked it here. Probably would’ve made a crack about the chalkboard menu being too hipster for a place with this much duct tape on the booths. She’d have ordered something ridiculous just to see if I’d try it. She’d—
“Hey, Fletch.”
I glance up at the familiar voice.
Herb Parnell—retired chief, walking legend, and the man who basically raised half our crew—claps a hand on my shoulder and squeezes.
“Heard you picked up every shift from now 'til Boxing Day. Trying to make ‘em all look bad?”
I huff a low laugh. “Mom’s out in St. John’s with her sister this year,” I say, rolling my glass between my palms. “So I’m just helping the guys out. They’ve got families, I don’t.”
He narrows his eyes. “You’ve got us.”
My gaze drops back to my drink while Herb shrugs off his coat and takes the stool beside me.
“You working again tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“And tomorrow?”
“Off by seven.”
He nods, thoughtful. “We do a late Christmas lunch. Three o’clock. Gives folks time to crash after the overnight. Leah and I are used to it—spent enough years working shifts ourselves, so we never saw the point in moving it earlier.”
I blink, caught off guard.
“You should come after you’ve had a nap,” he says.
“Leah would love it. Tamara and Eli are coming, they don’t make it up much.
Tamara’s sister’ll be with them. And I’m pretty sure Lulu’s showing up with her new fiancé, Logan Miller.
He’s one of Eli’s teammates,” Herb pauses to chuckle.
“So you can imagine how thrilled Eli is.”
I haven’t seen Lulu Parnell in a couple years, but had heard through the Maplewood gossip mill she’d recently been attached to an NHL player.
She’s sunshine in a bottle, and Eli’s always been protective of her—so if she’s engaged to one of his own linemates, I can imagine Eli’s been walking around ready to combust.
“Sure you want more chaos?”
“You’re not chaos, Fletch.” He gives me a look. “You’re family. Come eat. Drink. Be human.”
Emotion makes my throat feel thick, and my fingers tighten around my glass.
“You’ve gotta stop punishing yourself, bud,” Herb says, voice softer. “Don’t spend every Christmas miserable just because one of them went to hell.”
I’m still not sure I’ll commit, but I nod anyway. “Alright. I’ll be there.”
“Good man.” Herb slaps the bar once, then stands. “Don’t make me come find you.”