Chapter 27
Cass
My textbooks were getting dog-eared from how often I used them.
Weld joint tolerances, hydraulic circuit design, predictive maintenance schedules…
all the stuff that used to blur together was finally making sense.
The more time I spent with machines instead of people, the better I seemed to get.
Grades going up was an obvious result, but a hidden benefit was less time at the arena.
Less chance of running into my dad or Mason.
I told myself it was about boundaries. Priorities. But really, it was about avoiding the phantom pain of being near Mason without having him. A machine didn’t ask questions or offer condolences. It simply did what it was built for, and when it broke, I fixed it. That was my favorite part.
I was in the middle of one such session in my neighbor’s garage one morning, when Josie (of all people) texted me.
Brunch. 11am. Sharon’s coming too. Don’t flake out on me.
The drive to Seraphina’s was riddled with several moments where I almost turned back. I’d never hung out with Josie on my own before. Hell, I’d never considered myself ‘one of the girls’. Ever.
But I didn’t turn back, and even cracked a smile when she waved me over to their table.
“I see you dressed up for the occasion,” she said when I slid into the booth.
“Yep, I stained these work jeans just for you. Pulled this shirt from a Goodwill bin on my way over.”
They laughed, and it immediately relaxed the atmosphere. Luckily, the place was only oat or almond milk fancy, nothing close to ‘no shorts or open shoes’ fancy.
“Honestly? I respect the commitment,” Sharon said. “Loving the vibe.”
Josie handed me a laminated menu. “Okay, real talk. Are we ordering for nourishment or emotional support?”
“Do they do both?” I asked, flipping to the back where they usually buried the good stuff. Behind the quinoa wall.
“They’ve got this cinnamon brioche French toast that’s legally a cry for help,” Sharon said with a solemn nod. “Highly recommend.”
A waiter appeared, and Josie ordered something with micro greens (for the IG shot, she explained after). I went with the French toast, and Sharon asked for a dirty chai, winking when she said “dirty”. I liked her instantly.
Surprisingly, conversation flowed easily, pinging between us with ease. Sharon filled us in on how her ex had rebranded himself as a mindfulness coach, and Josie ranted about the lighting at her latest product shoot that made her look like a Victorian ghost.
“What about you?” Josie fixed me with a no-nonsense look. “Your heart still on lockdown or what?”
I reached for the water glass and pretended to study the condensation. “It’s… fine.”
“Cass.”
“You have to give us something to work with here,” Sharon backed up her friend.
It was the first time I felt awkward, like I didn’t quite belong. “I’m not exactly the brunch confessional type.”
“You don’t have to worry about her,” Josie said, dismissing Sharon with a nonchalant wave. “She’s up to date on all the news with you and Mason. Best of all, she can keep a secret.”
“Best friends with an influencer and I haven’t leaked anything. Not once.” Sharon was particularly proud of this achievement, and it showed in her easy smile.
“I mean, we talked a few weeks ago. He was drunk, but honest.”
Josie’s eyes danced with intrigue and anticipation. She was eating it up, hankering for more. “And?”
I shrugged, feeling useless. Girly-girl gossip was never one of my strong points. “And, that was it. I guess I’m not angry at him anymore. I get where he was coming from, even if it was dumb to play into his coach’s hands like that.”
“And?” This time it was Sharon who prompted me.
I fumbled, a little flustered. “And… I don’t hate him. He’s off the bench and playing his game, and we’re… I don’t know. We’re nothing.”
“You know what I’m hearing?” Josie tapped her temple as if she’d just figured out something of significance.
Sharon cooed, her excitement spilling over. “Do tell.”
“Well, she doesn’t hate him. Do you know what the opposite of hate is?”
“Love,” she and Sharon said together, both looking at me as though they were bracing for my eternal gratitude. Preferably in the form of a deep bow.
It didn’t go down that way.
“Okay, enough about me,” I said, poking at my French toast with absolutely no appetite. “We’re veering way off course.”
Josie turned to face me fully, and doubled down. “The only course is the one where you tell us— Are you in love with him?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, and promptly stuffed a huge square of toast into my mouth. It was the best way I knew how to be exempt from talking.
“She didn’t say it mattered,” Sharon pressed. “Just asked if it’s the case.”
I sighed, chewing slowly as my gaze shifted between them. This was like a real-life version of what my sleepless nights had been like lately. Going back and forth about what it was I truly felt for Mason.
It took some effort to get the toast down past the lump in my throat. “Fine. Yeah. You happy? I think I’m in love with him.”
Satisfied, Josie softened. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
Maybe not, but it was jarring to hear the words out loud. From my own mouth.
“It’s a useless truth,” I said, feeling more capable of talking now that it was over. “He’s doing great. Probably better without me, if the last few games are anything to go by.”
It sucked to admit, even inwardly to myself, but this brunch was turning out to be pretty cathartic. That numb weight on my chest wasn’t there anymore. After weeks of feeling empty, it had disappeared. Just like that.
“Dating Grayson has taught me one thing,” Josie began, tapping the side of her plate with her fork. “The game is a thing all its own. What we see has nothing to do with what they’re feeling. Most of the time, it’s the opposite.”
I knew what she was trying to do, but it felt like too much had passed for there to be a change.
“Mason and I were doomed from the start. His career is just taking off, and it’s a sure bet.
He’s talented, skilled. There’s no doubt he’ll be one of the greats someday.
I can’t expect him to jeopardize that for something that may or not work out. Especially if it pisses off his coach.”
“You’re a garbage liar,” Sharon quipped, and took a sip of her tea. “I can see that you care more than you’re letting on. You should talk to him.”
“We talked. I told you.”
“No,” Josie jumped in to clarify. “She means you should tell him how you feel, and let him decide if it’s worth throwing away. I think he’ll surprise you.”
I didn’t expect the weight in my chest to stay gone. I figured it would sneak back in the moment I stepped outside, like humidity on a muggy Texas day. But as I walked to my car, tossing the keys in my hand, it was notably absent.
Maybe Josie was onto something. Maybe I was lying to myself more than anyone else.
The roads were quiet for once, and I let my windows down halfway for the warm air to whip through the car.
A song came on the radio—a sweet country tune talking about what it’s like when hearts fall apart.
It was no effort for my brain to wade through the mess in my head and grab hold of Mason.
And in case I didn’t get the hint, just as his stupid smile floated into my mind’s eye, the Frost Bank Center came up on the right.
The lot was mostly empty, however there was no mistaking that busted Neon parked in the player’s lot. Because, of course that’s where he was. Probably early for a solo practice session before the game.
I slowed down, but passed it. Drove straight by, like any rational person would. Then I hit the next intersection, and instead of going through, I jerked the wheel into a tight U-turn that made the tires scream.
It wasn’t bravery, just momentum. Josie’s voice still buzzed in my ears.
Let him decide.
I pulled in next to his car and killed the engine. The stillness settled over me fast. I didn’t know what I was walking into, but got out of my car anyway.
Inside the arena, the air was colder than usual, like the system hadn’t kicked into full gear yet. I hadn’t been there in a while, and it felt as though the rink was complaining about it.
I spotted Mason before I reached the railing.
He was out there alone, no helmet, taking shots against the board as if he was at war with himself. Each strike was harder than the last, echoing around the hollow arena like cannon fire.
I hurried through to grab my skates and made my way back to the rink. If he could impose on my alone time, then I could do the same. I booted up, and managed to take to the ice without him noticing. He just kept winding up and hammering pucks into the boards, over and over.
“Careful that you don’t break it,” I said, skating up to him.
His shoulders sagged when he saw it was me. “Haven’t seen you around here in a while.”
“School.”
He nodded, then dragged another puck toward him. The contact was perfect, blasting it straight at the black smudge where every other puck had landed. It rebounded fast, and he caught it with the curve of his stick. Reset. The boards looked like they’d taken a beating. I knew how they felt.
“I know you probably want some time by yourself, but I wanted to talk to you.”
His jaw twitched. Another snapshot. Another crack off the boards.
I skated closer, cutting into his orbit. “Did you hear what I said?”
Mason straightened, leaning on his stick. “I talk, I fuck it all up by saying something wrong. I stay quiet, it’s worse. I’m not exactly happy with my options, here.”
“So you’re going to just ignore me and keep blowing holes in the rink?”
“What do you want me to say, Cass?” He tossed his stick aside and went to sit on the Surge bench. When I slowed to a stop in front of him, he said, “You came here to talk, so maybe you should do that.”
I took a steadying breath and tried to wrap my head around what it was I came there to say. I was all fired up from brunch, but now every possible sentence seemed feeble at best.
“Last time we talked,” I started tentatively, feeling my way through the muddle of emotions. “I told you I’d back you up if you wanted to fight. You never told me if that’s what you want.”
“Maybe that’s because I don’t know,” he said, looking up at me. It scared me how lifeless his eyes were. Exhausted. “I thought I knew, but every time I look up, the rules change. The plan changes.”
“I haven’t changed.”
He scoffed, and bent down to undo his laces. When he straightened again, there was something I couldn’t quite read floating at the edges of his expression.
“I told you about my dream but lately, it doesn’t feel like it’s mine anymore,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “It’s like the second I made it big, the dream belonged to everyone else, and they’re telling me how to live it.”
“You’ve worked too damn hard to throw it away because of other people.” I stepped onto the platform and sat down next to him. “I was just with Josie and she made me realize that you can have both, Mason.”
He scrunched up his face. “Josie?”
“Focus. This is important.” He zipped his mouth, and I went on. “The fight I was talking about— That wasn’t just about us. It was about you and your hockey, too. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. If you’re scared of—”
“I’m not scared,” he snapped.
“Then why are you avoiding me like I’m the problem?” My voice rose. “Why are you shutting me out like I’m the thing holding you back, then texting me that you miss me the next day?”
His hands curled into fists on his knees. “Because that’s easier than admitting I already need you. Don’t you get it? Meeting you was… It changed everything. One dream became two.”
For a while, the only sound was the low hum of the cooling system and the distant creak of the boards settling.
“Then what are we doing?” I touched his chin to make him look at me. In that moment, I saw everything in his eyes. Piercing blue, on fire. “The only game that should be played is on the ice. Not with us. I—”
But the words caught in the back of my throat. It was so easy to say them to Josie and Sharon. Somehow it didn’t feel like the right time.
“You have a chance at greatness,” I said. “But if you’re going to walk into it, do it knowing who you are. Not who they say you have to be. That’s the only way it’ll mean anything.”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Swallowed hard.
Then, finally, he spoke. His voice was quiet, like he’d only just realized it himself.
“I don’t want to be great without you, Cass.”
He leaned in, and I felt the pull of his body. I could practically feel his heat against my skin, his lips on mine. I wanted nothing more in the world.
But I stopped myself right before our lips touched.
“I’m not the only one you need to tell,” I said. “There’s someone else who needs to hear it from you, first.”