11. Luke
Luke
The Hardrock Healing Club feels like the perfect escape this morning.
After a restless night replaying Mason’s stiff goodnight kiss and the way he didn’t look back, I text Taron and Milo…
LUKE: Change of plans… emergency Little reset at the wellness club? Sauna + plunge?
They both reply in seconds with a flood of heart emojis and “YES!!!”
So here we are, the three of us piling out of Milo’s car in the parking lot, gym bags swinging and swimsuits already on under our clothes.
I’m wearing my favorite baby-blue board shorts, the ones with the little cuts at the legs that make me feel extra cute and Little as my thighs get just that extra exposure.
Taron’s in a bright green Speedo, and Milo’s rocking a sporty red swimming trunk that shows off the tan he got on his road trip.
We link arms as we walk inside, giggling like we’re twelve instead of grown dudes with jobs and very real boy problems.
The center is gorgeous as ever. Warm cedar scents, soft lighting, and that peaceful hum of water features. We check in, grab fluffy white towels, and head straight for the changing area to put our bags and phones away.
I think of Mason and a fresh wave of sadness hits me.
But I push it down.
Today is for fun. For resetting.
We start in the medium sauna, the three of us spreading out on the upper bench, towels under us, the dry heat wrapping around our bodies like a big hug. Sweat beads on my skin almost immediately. It feels good… cleansing.
Milo leans back with a dramatic sigh. “Okay, but real talk… whoever wins our cold plunge contest is going to have the psychological edge for bench press competition. I can already taste those victory pancakes.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Cool.”
I smile, but it feels a little forced.
The heat is supposed to relax me, but my mind keeps drifting back to last night. To Mason’s clenched jaw when I said Patrick’s name. To the silent walk home. To the way he drove off without turning around.
Aaarrgh. I hate this.
Milo notices first. He tilts his head and arches his eyebrow. “Luke? You okay? You’ve got that sad-puppy face.”
I swallow hard, staring at the glowing rocks in the heater.
“It’s Mason,” I begin. “Last night at the Lantern… I told him about Patrick’s text.
About maybe meeting for coffee to get closure.
He got really jealous. Not in a hot, possessive way…
at least not the good kind. He just shut down.
Got all stiff and quiet. Walked me home like I was a stranger.
He barely kissed me goodnight. And this morning I got a text saying he has a cold and we’re skipping training. ”
Taron’s eyes widen. He scoots closer on the bench, his bare thigh pressing against mine. “Oh no. That sucks. What did he say exactly?”
I recount the whole evening. The vibe shift, his words about not trusting Patrick, the tension on the walk home. By the time I finish, tears are pricking at the corners of my eyes from the heat and the hurt.
“I think… I think he might not want to be my coach anymore,” I say, somber. “Or anything else. Maybe this was all too much too fast.”
Milo wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a sweaty side-hug.
“Hey. No way. Mason’s crazy about you. We all see it.
He’s just… a big grumpy mountain man who’s never had to share his Little before.
Not that he even has to share you with Patrick.
But you know what I mean, jealousy hit him hard. ”
Taron nods, squeezing my hand. “You need to have an honest conversation with him, babe. Tell him straight up that he doesn’t need to be jealous…
you’re with him. And that he needs to learn to express his feelings instead of going all quiet and broody.
Daddies aren’t perfect. They need reminding sometimes. ”
I let out a shaky laugh, wiping sweat from my forehead. “You guys make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not,” Milo says gently. “But you two have something real. Don’t let one bad night ruin it. Talk to him. Today, if you can.”
Their words settle some of the knot in my chest. I hug them both, sticky and hot and grateful. “Thank you. I needed this. Needed you two.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, letting the heat do its work.
Then Taron claps his hands. “Enough moping! Time to test ourselves in the coldest plunge. Winner gets bragging rights and extra sprinkles on their next milkshake.”
We laugh and head out, towels wrapped around us.
The coldest plunge pool is set at a brutal two degrees Celsius—metallic and intimidating, with steam rising where the icy water meets the warmer air.
Taron goes first, lowering himself in with a dramatic shriek.
“Mother of all popsicles!” Taron yelps, teeth chattering almost instantly. He lasts maybe forty-five seconds before bolting out, gasping and laughing, skin bright red.
Milo’s next. He’s braver, sinking in slowly, but even he taps out after a minute and a half, splashing water everywhere as he scrambles up the steps. “Okay, that was evil. Your turn, Luke!”
I take a deep breath, drop my towel, and step in.
The cold is shocking. My breath catches, every muscle locks up, but I force myself to breathe the way Mason taught me during our warmup sessions.
One minute. Two. My teeth chatter, but I hold on, thinking of him, of proving I can be strong even when things feel icy between us.
At two minutes and ten seconds I haul myself out, legs wobbly, whole body tingling and alive. I’m grinning like an idiot, proud of myself, when movement at the entrance catches my eye.
The three Daddies walk in—Mason, Kaleb, and Connor—all in nothing but fully-packed swim shorts. Mason’s broad chest and powerful arms are on full display, muscles glistening under the lights. My heart stutters.
Taron and Milo notice too. They exchange a quick look and then, bless them, give me space. “We’re hitting the sauna,” Taron says loudly, grabbing Milo’s hand. “You two… talk.”
They disappear down the corridor, leaving me standing there in my dripping shorts, my heart hammering.
Mason’s eyes lock on mine across the plunge area. He looks tired—shadows under his eyes, jaw tight—but the second he sees me something softens in his expression. Kaleb and Connor clap him on the shoulder and head toward the main sauna, clearly giving us privacy too.
Mason walks over slowly. “Luke.”
“Hi,” I whisper. My voice feels small in the big open space.
Mason jerks his chin toward the small private sauna at the end of the hall—the one meant for two people. “Can we…?”
I nod. We step inside together. The door clicks shut behind us.
It’s smaller, hotter than the one I was just in, the cedar walls radiating intense dry heat.
We sit on the bench facing each other, knees almost touching.
Sweat is already forming on his chest, tracing the ridges of his abs.
It’s impossible not to notice how ridiculously hot he looks—both from the sauna and just… him.
At first neither of us speaks. The heat presses in, thick and heavy. I shift on the towel beneath me, nerves and leftover sadness swirling.
Mason clears his throat. “I owe you an apology, little one. For last night. Getting jealous like that… letting it ruin our evening… that wasn’t fair to you. I shut down instead of talking. I hated the idea of Patrick anywhere near you, but I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”
His voice is rough, sincere. I can see it in his eyes—the regret, the vulnerability he doesn’t show often. My chest loosens.
“I get it,” I say softly. “Jealousy happens. But yeah… it hurt when you went quiet. I need you to talk to me, Mason. Tell me when something’s bothering you instead of pulling away.
And you don’t have to worry about Patrick.
There’s nothing there. You’re the one I want.
You’re the one who makes me feel safe and strong and… wanted.”
Mason nods, shoulders dropping like a weight has lifted.
“I know,” he begins. “I trust you. I just… I’ve never done this before. Not like this. And with me leaving for the rig soon…” Mason trails off, then meets my eyes. “We’ll take things step by step. Communicate better. No more shutting down.”
Relief floods through me, warm and sweet. “Step by step sounds perfect.”
A small smile tugs at his mouth, the first real one I’ve seen since last night. His gaze drifts over me slowly, taking in my body, the way sweat glistens on my skin. “You look incredible, by the way. Sauna heat looks good on you.”
Heat that has nothing to do with the room rushes to my cheeks. “You’re one to talk,” I tease, letting my eyes roam over his powerful frame. “Hot in every way possible.”
Mason chuckles, low and warm, and reaches out his big hand. I take it without hesitation, our fingers lacing together. His palm is warm and steady against mine.
We sit like that for a minute, just holding hands in the heat, the tension from last night melting away. Then we hear laughter and splashing from outside—Kaleb, Connor, Taron, and Milo clearly gearing up for another round of cold plunge.
“Ready to join them?” Mason asks, squeezing my hand.
I grin, feeling lighter than I have all morning. “Only if you promise to hold my hand when I scream from the cold.”
“Deal, little one,” Kaleb says, his voice a low drawl.
We stand together, still linked, and step out into the brighter area. The others are already at the plunge pool, daring each other. Mason keeps my hand in his as we walk over, his thumb stroking my knuckles.
The future still feels a little uncertain—with the rig, with Patrick, with everything—but right now, in this moment, with his hand in mine and my friends nearby, it feels like we’re going to be okay.
Step by step, hot or cold, we’re going to give this our best shot.
* * *
The drive up to Mason’s cabin that evening feels different… it’s lighter, and most importantly hopeful.