Chapter Four #3
Mason wasn't trying to solve the situation or offer empty reassurance.
He held me, his arms firm without being possessive, allowing me the time to gather myself without demanding anything in return.
The humiliation that had threatened to consume me gradually loosened its grip, replaced by an overwhelming awareness of the man standing so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
Every instinct told me I should step back before I embarrassed myself further, yet another part of me—the part that had awakened the instant our eyes met beside the bench—wanted nothing more than to remain exactly where I was.
Mason eventually eased back just far enough to look at me, although one hand remained lightly against my upper arm as though he wanted to make certain I was truly all right before letting me go.
His expression carried none of the awkwardness I had expected to find after such an impulsive embrace.
Instead there was concern mixed with something else I couldn't quite identify.
"I know we only just met, but nobody should have to go through what happened back there. Caleb was wrong, and he'll know that by now. I promise you, Jack, that isn't how I see you."
Every word reached me with astonishing clarity because I found myself studying his face instead of listening only with my ears. There wasn't the slightest trace of insincerity. He meant every syllable.
I swallowed hard before slipping the phone from my pocket. My hands were steadier now, although my fingers still trembled slightly as I opened the notes application and typed the words that never seemed to become any easier to write.
Thank you. It happens sometimes. I don't usually run but... People think I'm ignoring them until they learn I can't answer.
I turned the screen toward him, watching as he read the message.
Sadness flickered briefly across his features before his attention returned to me, and the sympathy I saw there managed to avoid becoming pity.
There was an enormous difference between the two.
Pity looked down on someone. Compassion stood beside them.
"I can't begin to understand how you felt being humiliated like that in front of the entire team. It shouldn't happen at all. Maybe it does, but it shouldn't," Mason replied.
He rubbed the back of his neck, as though he were searching for the right words before giving a self-conscious laugh.
"When Coach introduced us, I had no idea you couldn't speak. I thought you were shy. Then Caleb started on you, and I couldn't understand why you weren't answering him. When your dad explained... Fuck, I felt awful."
I smiled faintly and typed another message.
Most people apologize once they know. Caleb probably will too.
The words were true enough, yet even as I showed Mason the screen I realized I wasn't thinking about Caleb anymore.
My attention remained fixed entirely on Mason.
Standing this close allowed me to notice details I'd missed beside the rink: the faint scent of cedar lingering on his skin, the kindness that seemed to settle naturally into his expression whenever he looked at me.
This felt dangerously immediate. My pulse quickened every time our eyes met, and no amount of common sense seemed capable of slowing it.
Mason continued watching me with an intensity that made my heart stumble. He seemed completely unaware of how openly he was studying me, his gaze lingering.
"We've only just met, so maybe this sounds crazy, but I couldn't watch you walk away and pretend everything was okay. That isn't who I am. I had to make sure you were all right."
A warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the embrace we'd shared.
I couldn't explain it any more than he could.
Every sensible voice inside my head reminded me that we'd exchanged little more than a handshake, a hug and a handful of spoken sentences.
Yet standing in that corridor beneath the arena, looking into eyes that felt remarkably familiar, I experienced the extraordinary sensation that life had shifted onto an entirely different path.
For years I'd accepted that my world would revolve around medicine, my father, and the ice I prepared every morning. I had convinced myself it was enough.
Now, with Mason Brooks standing in front of me wearing concern as naturally as other people wore confidence, I found myself wondering whether enough had never really been enough at all.
The distant blast of Dad's whistle echoed faintly through the concrete passageway, signaling the beginning of practice and reminding both of us that an entire hockey team was waiting on the other side of the tunnel.
Neither of us moved. Mason's eyes remained locked on mine for one lingering moment before he finally smiled, the expression warm enough to chase away the last remnants of the hurt Caleb had caused.
"Come on, let's go back together," he murmured.
I agreed without hesitation before falling into step beside him As we walked back toward the rink shoulder to shoulder, I realized the humiliation that had driven me from the arena only minutes earlier had already begun to fade.
In its place lingered something entirely new, a feeling I couldn't explain and had no desire to examine too closely.
All I knew with absolute certainty was that meeting Mason Brooks had already changed something inside me.