Chapter 26
twenty-six
. . .
Violet
For a moment it feels like we’re all teenagers again. The only thing missing is Monroe. A big part of me wishes she could be here right now, if only just to help balance out the testosterone.
“Dude, I can’t lie. It felt kinda weird being back in that arena. Like I was walking into a time capsule.” Mikey takes a swig of his beer before continuing. “Does it feel weird coaching in the same place you used to play for?”
“It was definitely an out-of-body experience at first. And honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever fully get used to it. There are moments when I still feel like I should be the one on the ice, and not even because I want to play, but because that’s all I’ve known.”
“I’m sure you want to go out there and show ‘ em how it’s really done. You say the word and I can call up Bradon and see if he’s down for some 3 on 3,” Mikey jokes.
Mason rolls his eyes. “Between my busted head and the fact that neither you nor Bradon have played in years, I don’t like our odds.”
“What are you talking about? We can take these Westchester kids. Bradon and I are in a beer league now so we’re ready whenever you are.”
“No way. Since when are you two playing hockey again?”
“Mmm, I think we started the team maybe like six months ago? We’re looking for a coach if you want to pull double duty.”
“You guys would be a bigger pain in the ass to coach than my current players.”
Mikey smirks, taking another swig from his beer.
“I think you’re selling yourself short,” I interject. “Your players seem to respond to your coaching. I feel like every time you stepped up, their game got better.”
Mason looks sheepishly at his beer. “Thanks Vi.” Genuine compliments have always made Mason uncomfortable. And he’s so cute when he’s uncomfortable.
“That hit from #23 was dirty, though. I guess I can’t be too surprised given we were playing Boston College.”
Mason’s eyes widen as he sips his drink, nodding vehemently. “Yeah. It was super dangerous. If it wasn’t for Coach Jameson holding me back, I probably would’ve gone off on the refs.”
One of the things I’ve always loved about talking hockey with Mason that he never makes me feel inferior or like I didn’t know what I’m talking about. Some guys have such a complex when it comes to a woman sharing her opinion on the sport. But Mason always listens, even when we have different opinions.
“Whatever you couldn’t say to the refs, Violet certainly did.” Mikey winks at me.
Mason turns to me. “I thought I heard a ladylike, ‘Open your fucking eyes ref.’ ”
“No, you didn’t.”
“So, it was someone else who called the BC player a rat?”
I blink. Okay fine. Maybe those were my exact words. “How do you even know that was me?”
“Vi, even in a sea of people, I’ll always recognize your voice.” Dammit, I hate when he casually says something romantic. Fate also did seem to bring us together. That and Mason’s persistence. We could’ve spent the next however many years at Westchester ignoring each other’s existence, but Mason refused to have that.
“Eesh man, that was a little too cheesy for my taste. But comments like that bode well for my wallet.” Mikey throws a teasing wink in my direction. He either has a death wish or there is something in his eye.
Mason scrunches his eyebrows together. “Huh?”
“I was telling Vi—” I swiftly kick Mikey in the shin while innocently sipping my cider.
“Fuck wh—,” Mike catches my challenging gaze, “—would ya look at the time? I have a sex appointment with that blonde over there. See ya love birds.” Mikey jumps off the stool before I can shatter his other shin.
“I don’t know how you didn’t strangle him all the time when we were kids.” I huff.
Mason is clearly curious about Mikey’s abrupt departure but chooses to leave it alone. “His persistence and tendency to be a jackass is part of his charm.”
Mason leans in closer to whisper something about Mikey striking out across the bar, and I’m immediately hit by him — the smell of pine needles and soap. My eyes trail down his neck and exposed collarbone, and my body feels warm. It’s been a while since I had a man in my bed and man would I— Whoa there Vi. We are not going there. Get a grip woman.
As I recover from my momentary blip, I realize Mason has caught me staring. He takes this as permission to return the favor and takes me in fully; I feel my heart racing as his eyes trail down my multicolored blue sweater. I feel frozen in time and space as he tucks away one of my loose curls.
Mason’s green eyes are nowhere near my eyes when he says, “Don’t tell Coach Jameson, but I was entirely too distracted by the fact that I could hear you out there tonight.”
“Sorry for all the heckling. I know I can get carried away during games.” I’m not sorry. I hope that ref lays in bed thinking about what a turd he is.
“That’s not what I meant.” His hand trails down my arm as he entwines our fingers together.
He presses his lips to my ear. “Knowing you were in the crowd always lit a fire under my ass when I was playing. I felt the same energy today when I was coaching.”
Objectively what he is saying isn’t sexual, but in a whisper, it feels explicit. Time to throw some water on this fire he’s stroking. “Well, I’m glad you invited me. It felt like old times again.”
He straightens, “I hope that’s a good thing. Although I did subject you to Mikey for a few hours so maybe I should be apologizing instead.”
“Yeah, on your knees Hayes.” Fuck that was definitely sexual. I take two large gulps of my cider and let the alcohol wash over me. It’s funny how drinking calms you down enough to not say something stupid, only to fuel you to say the next stupid thing with abandon. The cider rushes straight to my heart as I say, “Mikey and Bradon have a bet about how long we remain platonic.”
Mason raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. The wager is pre- or post-New Year’s. I’m thinking about throwing $50 in. I happen to have some insider info.”
A flicker of heat flashes in Mason’s eyes as he leans closer, his face inches away from mine. “Huh. I’d thrown in $100 to tip the scales p?—”
“Did you two see that!?” Mikey’s voice is the firefighter hose we needed, extinguishing that dangerous flame we were stoking. “I’ve never struck out at O’Malley’s before. ”
“I told you the mullet wasn’t doing you any favors,” Mason quips. He’s cool and collected as ever. Like we hadn’t been moments away from kissing.
“The mullet has been a big hit for the past six months thank you very much. This is not a me problem.” Mikey steals Mason’s beer and finishes it off. “I’m 0-2 in being appreciated tonight. It’s a shame really.”
I snort. “I can’t believe she didn’t want to sleep with you, considering how humble you are.”
“I know. Guess I’ll just have to stick to being an arrogant jackass. Now if only I had a best friend or two that could buy me a drink and help me lick my wounds.”
“Yeah, if only.” I laugh but still make a move to slide out of my chair when I feel a warm hand on the small of my back.
“I’ll grab it.” Mason stops me before heading to the bar, empty glasses in hand. The heat from his palm still burns as he walks away.
“You know in another life I really think I could’ve been a solid matchmaker.” Mikey points his eyes at Mason.
I roll my eyes. “I wouldn’t quit your day job.”
Mikey would be a good matchmaker if the goal was for couples with intense chemistry to fuck each other senselessly, break up painfully, and forever pine for one another pitifully. Meet Mason and Violet. They are your token best friend’s brother, friends to lovers to enemies, workplace romance. And they lived happily never after. Jesus. Maybe I also needed another drink.