Chapter 9 Mason
Chapter nine
Mason
Snow hits the side of my face before I’ve even got my gloves on.
“What the—”
I turn to find Frankie already grinning, one mittened hand cupping another snowball while the other adjusts the ridiculous hat on her head. It’s soft and light blue, with a knitted daisy on the side and a pom-pom so oversized it bounces with every move.
“You’re a daisy-hatted assassin.”
“What’s the matter, Fireboy?” she calls, already retreating across the lawn. “You afraid of a little snow?”
Logan snorts behind me. “Careful, bro. She’s got an arm.”
“She’s got a death wish,” I mutter, wrenching my gloves on.
The snow is thick and fresh, coming down in fat flakes that blur the yard in every direction.
It’s the perfect kind of snow for this. Soft, packable, and just wet enough to hurt when someone aims with purpose.
Frankie aims with purpose.
I step off the porch, and a snowball immediately explodes against my chest.
She waves. “Oops.”
“Oh, it’s on.”
Within five minutes, the lawn’s a war zone.
Rory’s crouched behind the firewood stack, pelting Eli with precision. Logan and Lulu are fighting dirty—he keeps shielding her with his body, while she’s half riding on his back, shrieking with laughter and hurling snow at Tamara.
I’m stalking Frankie like prey.
Or maybe she’s stalking me. Hard to tell when she’s circling like a smug little fox in that ridiculous hat.
Elle suddenly pegs me in the thigh with a snowball that feels suspiciously dense, and while I’m bent over cursing under my breath, Frankie pops up behind a hedge and nails me in the shoulder.
“Oh, come on!”
She just grins. “I heard you were a good aim. Guess that was a lie, too.”
“Wow. Okay.” I scoop up snow and start to form a ball.
“Think fast,” she says, getting me again before ducking behind the birdbath.
I hurl a snowball that barely misses.
“Nice try,” she sing-songs, then pops up and gets me right in the chest for a second time. “You know, for someone who claimed to be all man, you’re getting your ass handed to you by someone in a daisy hat.”
I lunge. She shrieks and takes off, but I’ve got longer legs and a point to prove, so it doesn’t take much to catch her around the waist and haul her off her feet.
Frankie’s laughter is breathless and wild, her head tipping back as snow catches in her hair.
I set her down before I start thinking too hard about the way she fits against me. About how fucking good it feels to make her laugh—even if she’s mostly laughing at me.
“You done?” I ask.
“Never.”
She jams a snowball down the back of my jacket.
“Jesus—” I yelp, spinning away while she cackles.
Logan wheezes from across the lawn. “This is the best Christmas ever.”
Tamara yells, “Get her, Mason! For all of us!”
I do try, but she’s nimble as fuck, and that hat bounces like some kind of taunt.
I haven’t been attacked with this much enthusiasm since rookie year. Hell, I probably haven’t had as much fun since then, either.
Frankie is electric—laughing, dodging, teasing me every time she lands a hit.
I want her to hit me again.
I want her to forgive me.
I want to deserve it.
“Alright, enough!” Leah’s voice cuts through the cold. “You’ll all be frozen solid before dessert!”
Groans rise up from the yard, but everyone obeys and shuffles toward the house, soaked and smiling.
I pull my gloves off and jog to catch up, brushing a streak of snow from Frankie’s hat just before she slips inside. She doesn’t thank me, doesn’t even look at me. But she doesn’t shake me off, either.
I’ll take the win.
Inside, Leah presses a towel into my hands and points toward the stairs.
“You lot aren’t sitting in my dining chairs like that. Eli’s got spare clothes up in the second guest room—third door on the right.”
I nod, wiping my face. “Thanks, Leah.”
She turns to scold Logan, who’s dripping melted snow all over the welcome mat, so I head upstairs alone.
The second floor is quiet, the hallway lit with soft sconces and garlands twisted with fairy lights. I count doors as I go, but I must misjudge because I open door three and immediately regret it.
Frankie’s halfway through pulling a thermal over her head, arms tangled and bare torso twisting as she tugs it on. I get a full view of smooth skin, a flash of red lace, and the kind of cleavage that doesn’t leave a man standing.
“Shit—sorry—wrong—” I stammer, already turning. “I didnt—”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Her voice is flat. “Do you just wander around opening doors now? Is that a thing you do?”
“I didn’t know you were in here!”
“And knocking never occurred to you?”
“I was told third door on the right.”
She yanks the thermal down and glares at me. “This is the fourth.”
Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, or maybe from the accidental peep show, I don’t know. I can barely look at her, but can’t seem to look away either.
“Yeah. I figured that out when I walked into a live episode of softcore.”
Her mouth drops open. “You absolute—”
“Kidding!” I hold my hands up, suppressing a giggle. “I’m kidding. Jesus.”
“Funny. Were you also kidding when you ghosted me?”
Shit. Right to the kidneys.
I glance toward the hallway, then back to her. “Frankie, I didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean to purposefully ignore me?” She lifts a brow. “Or didn’t mean to look so smug and hot after ghosting someone who was legitimately worried about you?”
My head jerks back.
Frankie’s eyes go wide. “That was not a compliment. I take it back.”
I smirk, shaking my head. “You just called me hot again, Red. That’s gonna keep me warm for weeks.”
“Yeah, well, it’ll be the only thing keeping you warm.”
“Best thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I say, ignoring the barb. “Might get it printed on a T-shirt.”
She scoffs. “You’re fumbling so hard right now.”
“You’re the one who spilt wine on my junk!”
“Accidentally. But, you deserved it.”
“Probably,” I admit, because I absolutely did. “But it was pinot. That shit stains.”
“Buy better pants.”
We’re closer now. I’m not even sure how it happened, maybe during the back and forth banter, maybe I’m just gravitating.
Either way, I don’t realize how little space is left between us until the overhead light gives a sudden, sickly flicker.
Frankie glances up.
There’s another flicker, this one slower. Longer. The kind of dying pulse you get right before everything goes black.
And then—
POP.
The power snaps out, and Frankie jumps. I reach out without thinking, hands landing on her waist to steady her before she stumbles. Her skin jolts under my palms, and I freeze.
It’s dark. The only light comes from the snow outside, a soft glow filtering through the window. I can feel her breath, just inches from mine. My hands still on her hips.
Slowly, her fingers curl into my sleeves like she can’t decide whether to shove me off or hang on tighter.
The lights hum and flicker, then snap back on.
We’re too close. But she doesn’t move, and neither do I. And when those light green eyes raise to meet mine, something low and painful drags through my chest.
I want to say something, anything that might keep her here with me a moment longer, but she beats me to it.
“I didn’t need an explanation, you know,” she says, voice brittle. “Didn’t need a grand gesture or some poetic paragraph. Just… something. A reply. One fucking message so I knew you weren’t dead.”
She swallows, and her eyes sharpen like they did in the snow—fierce, but hurting.
“I gave you the benefit of the doubt. For days. I even—” Her voice catches. “I googled fire calls in the GTA, just to make sure there hadn’t been… you know, some tragic accident.”
That punches the air from my lungs. I remember what she told me, about her parents. The car crash and the aftermath. How some days the grief and panic sneaks up on her.
And I made her feel that again, because I couldn’t send one goddamn message.
I take a step closer. “Frankie—”
She flinches, like the sound of her name in my voice stings.
“Forget it,” she mutters, already turning. “I shouldn’t have said all that.”
I catch her wrist before she can slip past me.
“Frankie, please.”
She turns to look at me, and my mouth’s already open—
“Guys?” Lulu’s voice echoes up the stairs. “You alive up there? Dessert’s ready!”
Frankie blinks, looks toward the door, then jerks her hand out of mine.
And then she’s gone again.