Chapter 32 #2
“Look,” Mason said, leaning forward. “I get that this is hard. That clip coming back up, people recognizing you, it’s like reliving the whole thing all over again.”
“You don’t get it,” I countered, the brief levity evaporating. “You have no idea what it’s like to have your most humiliating moment preserved forever, to know that no matter what you achieve, no matter how far you come, people will always drag you back to it.”
Mason looked at the floor, then back at me. “Maybe not exactly like that. But I do know what it’s like to have people reduce you to one image and call it the whole story.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What, those Apex billboards where you look like a Greek god in your underwear? Yeah, that must be really traumatic.”
“It’s not the same,” he acknowledged. “But do you know how many people see those billboards and decide that’s all I am?
A body. A piece of eye candy. Not a skilled defenseman, not someone who’s worked his ass off since he was five years old to be one of the best at what he does. Just… underwear guy.”
I wanted to dismiss his comparison, but something in the way he said it made me pause. Still…
“It’s easier being seen as a sex symbol than a complete failure,” I muttered.
“Is it?” His brows pulled together. “At least your video shows you as human. Real. Those billboards? That’s not me. That’s some airbrushed, perfect version that nobody can live up to. Least of all me.”
I took a sip of water, still not ready to concede the point. “At least your family is probably proud of those billboards. My mother still can’t talk about ‘the incident’ without that pinched look on her face, like she’s smelling something bad.”
Mason’s jaw unclenched, his focus narrowing on me. “Your mom gave you a hard time about it?”
I snorted. “You could say that. ‘You made a spectacle of yourself, Delilah Mae,’” I mimicked my mother’s refined Southern accent. “‘No Prescott woman has ever shown such a shocking lack of decorum.’”
“That’s bullshit,” Mason said bluntly.
I blinked at him, startled by his intensity.
“Seriously,” he continued. “That’s complete bullshit. You didn’t cause any of what happened. You did nothing wrong.”
I stared at him, caught between wanting to believe him and knowing better. “Try telling my mother that. Or the millions of people who’ve watched the video.”
Mason leaned forward, all focus. “I’m telling you. Because you’re the one who needs to believe it. What happened wasn’t your fault. It was just… life. Messy and unpredictable.”
“Easy for you to say.” I reached for a throw pillow and hugged it to my chest, picking at a loose thread so I wouldn’t have to look at him. “You weren’t the one splayed out on the ground, banana-print spanx on full display to the world.”
The corner of Mason’s mouth twitched. “Bananas, eh?”
I shrugged, heat prickling at my ears. “They were good luck. My grandmother gave them to me as a joke before my first pageant, and I won. So I wore them to every competition after that. Stupid, I know.”
“It’s not stupid,” Mason said. “Every hockey player I know has their good-luck charms and superstitions.”
The casual comparison, linking my ridiculous spanx to something normal in his world, eased the panic down a notch.
“You know what I noticed about that video?”
I braced myself. “What?”
“Your voice.” His gaze didn’t move. “Before everything went sideways, you had an incredible voice, Lila. Really beautiful.”
“I haven’t even sung since that day.” The admission scraped its way out. “I can’t bring myself to. I thought I could turn the page on that part of my life, but it’s like my voice got locked away, a constant reminder of how damaged I felt.”
Mason’s eyes widened. “Five years? Lila, that’s…”
“Pathetic?” I supplied.
“I was going to say tragic,” he corrected gently. “To give up something you’re clearly talented at because of one bad experience.”
I twisted the loose thread from the pillow around my finger until it snapped. “It just… the joy went out of it. Every time I thought about singing, all I could hear was the audience’s laughter.”
Mason nodded once, like he understood. “I get that. But you’ll find your voice again when you’re ready.”
I leaned my head back against the cushions, the fight draining from me. “I hate feeling this way. Like I’m trapped in a glass box, watching everyone else live their lives without fear while I’m just… stuck.”
“You’re not stuck,” Mason said. “You’re healing. There’s a difference.”
I looked at him, surprised. “Five years is a long time to heal from one embarrassing incident.”
With a soft sigh, Mason rose from his chair and settled beside me on the couch, his shoulder brushing mine. “You don’t have to carry this alone anymore, Lila. I’m right here.”
“There’s something else. Something I’ve been carrying since those girls recognized me at the game.” I made myself meet his eyes. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt your reputation. If we keep seeing each other, if we’re… together. I’m afraid I’ll become a liability.”
Mason’s brow furrowed, confusion flashing across his features. “A liability? Lila, that’s—”
“You have an image to maintain. The last thing you need is to be linked to someone who’s an internet laughingstock.”
Mason reached across the space between us, his hand finding mine. His grip was warm and steady, solid in a way that grounded me.
“I don’t care what people think,” he said, like it wasn’t up for debate. “We’re in this together. I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
I wanted to believe him, God, I wanted to believe it could be that simple. But my gaze drifted to my phone, still lighting up with notifications, proof the world was waiting, watching, ready to judge.
“What happens when it gets worse?” My throat tightened.
“When reporters make snide jokes about your relationship with the ‘Epic Fail Girl’?” I looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze.
“Do you want to be with someone who flinches every time a camera appears? Who panics at the thought of attending your games? That can’t be what you really want. ”
Mason’s hand brushed a strand of hair from my face, his callused fingers gentle against my skin. “I want to be with you, Lila. The rest of it doesn’t matter. The cameras, the media, the spotlight, the rest is just background. You and me? That’s real.”
His sincerity made my chest ache. “I want to be there for you,” I said softly.
“At your games. At team events. I want to be involved in your life, not hiding in the shadows. But every time I think about stepping into that world, all I can hear is the laughter. All I can see are the comments and the jokes.”
Mason slid an arm around my shoulders, pulling me gently against his side.
“Then we take small steps. Come to a practice first, those are closed to the public. Or we go to dinner at places where the team hangs out, so you’re comfortable with them before facing a crowd.
If you want to come to a game, you can sit in the family section, away from the cameras and the fans. ”
I pressed closer against his chest, his heartbeat steady under my ear.
“I just… I hate how this fear controls me. It’s taken so much already.
My confidence. Job opportunities. Relationships.
” I swallowed hard. “Sometimes I feel like such a loser. Like I should be able to shake it off and just… cope.”
Mason’s hand moved to stroke my hair, his touch anchoring me. “I’ll help you, Lila. Not by fixing everything, I can’t do that. But by being there. By standing between you and the world when you need it, and standing beside you when you’re ready to face it.”
I settled back against his chest, letting his words sink in. For so long, I’d been defining myself by my worst moment, letting one mistake overshadow everything else. But Mason looked past it and saw me. The real Lila, not the meme, not the viral sensation. Just me.
“I’m still scared, Mason,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I know.”
“But I want to try.” The words felt like a promise, to him and to myself.
Mason pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “That’s all I’m asking for.”
The night caught up to me all at once. I hadn’t realized how tightly wound I’d been. Now, with Mason beside me and something that resembled a plan, the adrenaline drained away, leaving me bone-weary.
“You’re tired.” Mason glanced down at me. “You should get some rest.”
Panic fluttered in my chest at the thought of being alone again with my thoughts. “Will you…” I hesitated, then forced the words out. “Will you stay? I know you just had a game…”
“Of course.” He shifted until my head rested on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”
For the first time in years, I let myself be vulnerable enough to believe him. As I drifted off to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, I let myself imagine a future where I didn’t have to hide. Not from my fears, and not from my feelings for Mason.