Chapter Six Mason
“ M ase, is it almost ready?” Ross whines from the living room.
“Yeah. Give me two minutes!”
Folding the scrambled eggs over and over in the pan as they finish cooking, I mentally run through the rest of breakfast. Bacon’s done and cooling. Pancakes are done and warming in the oven. Fruit’s already on the table. And homemade berry syrup is in the fridge, ready to go.
“Come grab plates, boys!”
Shutting the burner off, I lift the hot pan with a mitt and gently pour the eggs onto the white ceramic platter, finishing them with a sprinkling of pepper. Setting the rest out on the counter, I prop my hands on my hips and proudly exhale. Perfect .
There is something so satisfying and rewarding about cooking. Especially for the people I love.
“Holy shit, dude. This looks amazing.” Chet’s eyes devour the spread until he reaches the pancakes, his gaze flying back to me. “Are those chocolate chip ones?!”
Shrugging nonchalantly, I smile. “Well, it’s your birthday this week, so I figured I’d surprise you.”
“Have I said I love you yet today? I swear I might just kiss you for this.” He licks his lips.
“Save it for the pancakes.” I laugh.
Ross walks into the room behind him and smacks Chet on the back of the head, the sound echoing around us.
Chet doesn’t even wince. His stare flattens out, and he looks forward, annoyed. “No pancakes for you, Ross!”
Ross chuckles. “I’d like to see you stop me.”
As much as I love Chet, he wouldn’t be able to hold his own against Ross’s frame and size. Ross is six foot four and over two hundred pounds. One of the biggest defensemen in the league.
Chet is a forward, standing only five foot eleven, and he’s maybe one hundred eighty pounds—wet.
Grabbing my plate, I load up while they continue to bicker. “When are we leaving for the arena?”
“Like, three?” Ross responds, and I nod.
Walking back to my room upstairs, I set my plate down on my desk. I usually eat with them, but I wanted a few minutes alone.
Practice hasn’t started yet. It won’t for another two weeks. But we’ll still be on the ice almost every day.
A bunch of us are meeting up today to do some scrimmaging, and it’ll be the first time in a while. I’m so excited to get between my pipes. I’ve missed them.
My phone buzzes, and I check the notification, finding a text from Chet.
Chet: I owe you my life for these pancakes.
Me: How about you stop flirting with Daphne to get a rise out of me instead?
Chet: Hmmm, but it’s so fun to get under your skin. I didn’t even know that was possible until she showed up.
Me: I will never make you those pancakes again.
I hear him shriek downstairs, and I laugh as I shove a forkful of eggs in my mouth.
Chet: Okay, okay. Deal. She’s all yours.
Me: She always has been.
Our encounter at the grocery store yesterday flashes in my mind, and my stomach levitates and does backflips at the memory.
I knew it . I knew she still had feelings for me. That was clear when she was giving me shit at Hy-Vee. Because if she really didn’t care, she wouldn’t have wasted the energy and effort.
She would have stayed silent and ignored me altogether, like she does when she’s actually mad at someone.
Growing up with her, I know her better than she’ll probably ever know. I know what pisses her off, what makes her smile, what makes her laugh, cry, and tick.
I know her favorite color is pink even though she desperately tries to convince everyone it’s sage green. She likes crocheting even though she’s not great at it, making misshapen monsters rather than cute animals. Although I think that hobby has fallen by the wayside.
She is ticklish in most parts of her body.
She hates the feeling of grass on her hands.
She loves the sensation of the sun on her skin right away in the morning, warming up for the day. But not for too long because her pale skin will burn in minutes.
I know that she hates me for leaving for college without a word, and I don’t blame her because I hate me for it too. But I also know that deep down inside of her, she still likes me and is too scared to admit it in case I hurt her. But that’s not going to happen this time around—or ever again.
I get another text, but this time, it’s from Maeve.
Maeve: If you insist on crashing the party tonight, don’t be a cockblock. Got it? Or I’ll have security throw you out.
Me: What do you mean? I am your security. And please never text the word cock to your brother ever again. I’m going to puke.
Maeve: I don’t think you should come tonight. It’s a bad idea. Especially with whatever the hell is going on with you and Daphne. Stop bothering her. It’s only making things worse.
My heart sinks.
Me: Bothering is a strong word when we casually keep running into each other.
Maeve: Just be on your best behavior, please.
Me: Scout’s honor.
Maeve: You were never a Scout.
Me: It’s the thought that counts.
The party tonight should be … interesting. I’m hoping that almost no one shows up, but I doubt that our team was the only group from the school invited.
I’m tempted to try to sabotage it so we can avoid the inevitable. Someone hitting on my sister or Daphne—or, God forbid, getting handsy with them. And then, of course, I’m going to step in and probably end up in handcuffs because I can’t think clearly when it comes to them.
Ugh, this is such a bad idea, but there’s no way in hell I’m staying home.
“Shoot it at my face one more time, Brock!” I yell at his smiling self as he skates away from me.
“It’s such a big target; I can’t help it!” he calls back.
Standing up as they skate across to the other side of the rink, my team in possession of the puck, I get a quick drink from my bottle, squirting it through my mask and into my mouth. A few drops roll down my face and neck, leaving a nice cool trail.
Oh crap.
Dropping my bottle onto the net, I ready myself as the other team steals the puck and flies down the ice toward me, two-on-one.
Chet, playing for my opponent, passes the puck to Ryan Gaunce, one of the Mammoths’ forwards. He’s one hell of a scorer.
I whisper-sing to myself as he approaches, getting into my zone. “You aren’t going to make that. You suck. You suck. You suck.” He shoots it wide, and I laugh. “Knew it.”
He, in fact, doesn’t suck but I’m thankful for his mistake anyway. One less shot I need to block.
There is nowhere in the world I would rather be than at this party. But at the same time, it’s going to be absolutely no fun for me, playing unwanted babysitter for Daphne and my sister.
Pulling into the driveway with Ross and Chet squeezed into my pickup is an image worth remembering. We look like sardines squished together in my single-cab truck.
“Wait, this place is sick,” Ross mutters, and I have to admit, he’s right.
It’s two stories, wood built, with big glass windows on the front, tapering up to the apex of the roof. I can’t imagine what it’s like inside with all of the sunlight during the day.
Although, knowing Daphne, I bet she always has the curtains drawn like a little vampire. She’s always said her spirit animal is Howie from Benchwarmers , which I find absolutely hilarious.
Twinkle lights hang above the porch that wraps around the entire front and side of the cabin, and it looks like it goes around back too.
I park my truck behind Daphne’s Jeep, knowing damn well I’m intentionally doing it so she can’t drive anywhere tonight without consulting me.
There’s already a ton of bodies moving inside that I spot through a couple of windows, and my anxiety and protectiveness spike my adrenaline.
We’re getting here two hours later than I wanted, thanks to Chet.
“All right, listen.” I turn to the guys, and both of them are already fighting back smiles.
“ Stop it .” I pause, giving them a second to get it together, but it only makes it worse.
“Don’t flirt with Daphne or my sister. Make sure no one fucks with them.
And anyone that gets too handsy is leaving. I don’t care who they are. Got it?”
Chet raises his hand hesitantly, and I can’t help but smirk.
“Yes, Chet?”
He purses his lips before giggling. “Yes, sir. I understand the orders. One question: how long have you been in love with your sister’s best friend?”
My eyes close in annoyance. “Shut the fuck up. Let’s go.”
Ignoring their schoolgirl laughter, I grab my phone from the holder on my dash and tuck my keys in my pocket before throwing my door open.
The cabin seems even bigger as we walk up to the entrance, climbing the few stairs to the porch. Music thumps inside, and I would worry about cops getting called by the neighbors but the next one isn’t for, like, a half mile down the lake.
This place is pretty isolated, which is good for tonight, but it makes me nervous that they’re so alone out here every night. Maybe I need to install some security cameras this weekend or something, for their well-being and mine.
Twisting the door handle open, I lead the way inside, finding too many jocks scattered about the big room. Great .
Chet rubs his hands together like a little fly and beelines it for the kitchen entrance across the room to get a drink. I knew he wasn’t going to be too much help.
Scanning the room, I search for that fiery-red hair, but I don’t spot it anywhere. I head toward the kitchen, where Chet disappeared, hoping to find one of the girls there.
He’s already talking some brunette up, and I roll my eyes at how fast he found a distraction from the mission tonight.
“Hey, Mase.” Ross taps my shoulder, and I turn to the right to face him. He’s holding his hand in the air, pointing to the twinkle-light-decorated porch out back. “Does that count as too handsy?”
My gaze tracks his direction, and my blood runs cold. “What the fuck?!”
I’m moving, speed-walking, jogging, running until I burst out into the night air, boiling rage consuming me.
“Get off me!” Maeve whines.
I’m two feet from rescuing her when she grabs his shoulders and drives her knees between his legs.