Chapter 24 - Landon
Landon
Mason handed me a bundle of tent poles wrapped in canvas and said, “I hope you don’t mind that I snore.”
“I fart in my sleep, so I guess that makes us even.”
I looked past him to the clearing where the trucks were parked in a crooked line, dust still clinging to the bumpers.
The river sat just beyond the trees, close enough that I could hear it moving over rock.
Sunlight cut through the canopy in broken patches, catching on metal coolers and folding chairs as the guys unloaded gear.
“Don’t like it?” Mason asked, taking a deep breath as he scanned our surroundings.
“It’s not the location so much.” I shifted the tent poles in my awkward grip. “I just don’t know if camping out here for a whole weekend is such a great idea.”
“Tell me about it,” Tucker said, coming over to us. “Our first full weekend without team obligations, and this guy drags us into the wilderness.”
Grayson dropped his pack near the far edge of the site and announced, “I’ll be over here if anyone needs me.”
Hunter wrangled the tangle of tent poles Tucker had left him with, and grunted. “Of course you will. Making the rest of us share, while you get a tent all to yourself on the best patch of grass.”
“Captain’s privilege.” Grayson winked at him. He then turned, rummaged his tent out of its bag, and I swear there were no more than a few snaps and a tug before the thing shot up all by itself.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Hunter muttered.
Grayson dusted his hands with a smug look, and sauntered down to where we were still trying to get our poles organized. “When Mason said ‘camping’, I didn’t think he meant in the dark ages. Where’d you get these old things? The 1800’s?”
Tucker snorted and stabbed a tent stake into the ground with his boot. “You pull rank one more time and you’re waking up in a ditch. Fancy tent and all.”
“What was that?” Grayson cupped a hand behind one ear. “Can’t hear you over the sound of my leadership.”
Mason clapped his hands once, loud enough to cut through it. “Alright, divas. Let’s get set up before the sun drops. We’re not rookies.”
Hunter glanced at me as he fixed the corner flap on his tent. “Well, four of us aren’t.”
I took the poles Mason had handed me and fit two together, the motion automatic. “In my Surge jersey, maybe. But I know my way around these babies.”
“Care to put a wager on that?” Tucker’s grin was sponsored by unearned confidence and day-drinking.
My hand shot out, and he shook it. “Game on.”
“I have structured team building exercises planned.” Mason stood over us as the secluded camp site suddenly unraveled in total chaos. “You guys don’t have to—”
But we weren’t listening.
Over on my left, Grayson had pitched in to help Tucker and Hunter, their frantic commands folding in on themselves in a flurry of tent poles and canvas flaps. I kept my cool, connecting the poles in order, then feeding them into the allocated holes.
“No thanks, I don’t need any help,” I said to Mason, who hadn’t yet moved to get in on the action. “Everything’s under control.”
He shook his head, but couldn’t hide the way he was biting back laughter. “You’re not the one I’m worried about.”
“That’s my foot!” Hunter yelled, just in time to stop Tucker from bringing down the mallet.
Their bickering only intensified, which slowed them down considerably.
“So,” Mason said, crouching as he threaded a pole through fabric, “you ready for this?”
“For what?”
He glanced over his shoulder at the others. “This. No schedule. Just a couple days where nobody’s watching.”
I hesitated, then slid another pole into place. “Yeah. I think I am.”
“That’s new,” he said. “A year ago you would’ve been counting the hours until you could bail.”
“A year ago I didn’t think I needed this.”
Mason gave a short laugh. “None of us did. Then we figured out we played better when we liked each other. As a team.”
Hunter wandered over, beer already in hand despite the coolers not being fully unpacked. “You two getting sentimental?”
“No,” Mason said. “We’re bonding. Don’t tell me you’ve given up already?”
Hunter took a sip. “I remembered I have nothing to prove, so went to get a beer instead. Those two can figure it out.”
Tucker called out, “Which tent am I in again?”
“You’re with Hunter,” Mason said.
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
Hunter raised his beer. “You love me.”
I watched them, the way the insults landed without edge, the way nobody took a word personally.
It felt different being inside it instead of on the outside looking in.
I’d spent most of last season keeping myself separate, convinced it made me sharper, better.
Standing here now, dirt on my hands, sun on my neck, I wondered how much that distance had cost me.
Mason caught my look and bumped my shoulder with his own. “You’re good here, Cross. Don’t overthink it.”
“I wasn’t.”
He smiled like he didn’t believe me but let it go. “Once we’re done, we’ve got cards, a football, and whatever questionable food Hunter packed.”
“Hey, watch it,” Hunter said. “I’ll have you know Holly made way too much effort making sure we had most of the major food groups for our time out here.”
“Aha! Victory!” Tucker’s face dropped when he looked over and saw Mason and me sharing a beer outside our tent that had been finished for a while. “Get me one of those. So humiliating starting the weekend in the negative.”
We moved down to the fire pit, and Grayson got some heat going. It was late afternoon, but the sun was weak and disappearing fast. It would be full dark in no time, and the chill announced the need for extra layers.
“Couldn’t hold out for summer, could you, Calder?” Hunter held his hands close to the flames and rubbed them together.
Mason shrugged. “Season’s over in summer. This was necessary now.”
“As captain,” Grayson said, clearing his throat with authority, “I get first dibs on those steaks Hunter’s hiding. Holly told me herself that the biggest one is mine.”
“Pull rank again,” Tucker said, “and I’m telling everyone you cried during our last game.”
Grayson froze as we all laughed. “That was sweat.”
“Sure it was,” Tucker said, then looked at me. “I was surprised you didn’t come to the game. Did you catch it on TV? Everyone thought we were goners, for sure.”
The answer was no. With round one tied three-all, I saw no hope that we’d scrape through. Not against Dallas. Nicole had gone to the game, and did me the favor of not talking about it after she got home.
But I couldn’t tell them that.
“I caught the highlights after,” I said, poking a stick into the red-hot coals that formed.
The tents stood upright now, three of them forming a loose triangle around the fire pit. The river kept moving in the background, steady and unbothered. For the first time in a while, the space in my chest that usually felt restless eased, just a little.
This wasn’t about drills or lines or minutes on ice. It was about being here, being let in, and not screwing it up by pretending I didn’t care.
“Look, I’m going to have to make a rule that we don’t talk about hockey while we’re out here.”
Everyone, including myself, gawked at Hunter.
“As captain—”
“Sorry, Grayson,” Mason said, cutting him off. “But this trip was my idea, and I’m gonna need you to trust me on this.”
The others watched for Grayson’s reaction, and even I expected him to have a mouthful. But he dropped into an easy smile, and high-fived Mason over the crackling fire.
The fire had settled into that steady, patient burn that made everything feel slower.
We sat in a loose circle on folding chairs and overturned coolers, boots nudging at the dirt, the river somewhere behind us making a low, constant sound I kept forgetting about until it crept back into my awareness.
Hunter came back from the truck holding a plastic grocery bag like it contained something sacred. He lifted it in triumph. “Steak a la Holly.”
“Now we’re talking,” Tucker said, placing his beer on the ground at his feet.
Hunter pulled out vacuum-sealed steaks, thick and marbled, the kind you didn’t need teeth to chew if you cooked them right. He placed them on the stacked rocks around the fire, and gestured to the open grid leaning against a tree stump.
“I’m going to be honest with you guys,” he said. “I’ve never done this before, and we’ll need someone to appoint as head chef.”
Grayson leaned forward immediately. “I call the biggest one. When it’s cooked. Not by me. I’ll just end up ruining those beauties over open flame and you’ll never let me live it down.”
Mason snorted. “I’ll do it, but that gets me off dishes duty.”
We all stared at him, but it was Hunter who had the balls to say, “Dishes?”
“Oh, my God,” Grayson groaned. “We’re off to a fine start, boys.”
“So,” Mason said as he got everything ready for the barbecue, “what are we pairing these with?”
Hunter blinked. You could almost see the moment land. “Pairing?”
“Yeah,” Mason said. “Salad, jacket potatoes... Literally anything that didn’t have a pulse at some point.”
“Shit.” Hunter scratched the back of his neck.
I lifted my beer. “I’m fine rawdogging the protein like a caveman. One steak, no sides, no regrets.”
“You would be,” Tucker laughed, and clinked his bottle against mine. “And I’m with the rookie. As long as we keep the beers coming.”
“I want us to get an early start tomorrow,” Mason said casually. Groans went around the fire.
“What for?” Tucker asked.
“Fishing.”
“Oh, thank God.” Hunter gave a huge sigh of relief. “I thought you were about to say—”
“And a hike,” Mason finished, looking right at him.
“I take back my thanks.”
Mason chuckled, the first pieces of meat sizzling over the fire. The aroma wafted up and around us, making my mouth water. “And I found this spot upriver that’s perfect for cliff-jumping. Nothing crazy, though, so Grayson, you can hold off on that protest.”
Grayson shook his head. “I was promised beer and sitting down.”