26. Mason
MASON
Two months since the Lilah Conversation with my father. Two months of triple Lukyan Petrov training sessions for any mistake. Two months of merciless hockey domination and finally, truly being with Lilah.
I’d take the painful, stiff muscles when it meant Lilah being in my room wasn’t a one-time thing.
She’d even had dinner with me, Zoe, and Alena a few times.
Lilah geeked the hell out when Alena let her into her closet.
She had her hand over her mouth half the time, eyes so wide, they started to tear up.
With my father always traveling between Bair’s season and the private equity deal he was trying to close at the firm, everyone had weeks of relaxing.
A few ice cubes slid across the pool house floor.
I groaned. Picking those up would be a bitch, but the cold blast from the ice machine was welcomed against the soreness flaring through my muscles.
Screw it—it was ice. It would melt and evaporate.
You should’ve stuck with your ice friends. Nice knowing you.
I missed one pass during yesterday’s game. It was only the third mistake I’d made over the past two months, and even though I’d recovered the puck and scored a goal, I’d promised precision, so I owned my penalty.
I’d been prepared for the repercussions and I’d gotten them this morning. A Saturday without practice or a game had been what I’d been looking forward to. I’d had big plans for Lilah and me, but she’d gone to Paige’s prom dress fitting and then over to Ryker’s.
I’d suppressed my urge to have her with me, so I hadn’t gotten my fill of Lilah today. Instead, I’d been treated to a Lukyan Petrov Drill Session. He hadn’t even been there. It turned into a FaceTime torture session with my phone propped up on the ledge of the rink.
“Mason?” Lilah’s sneaker stopped one cube on its way out the kitchen door. “He’s trying to escape.”
I locked my body, not letting myself wince or give away how uncomfortable even my teeth were. “Can’t let him get away.” I swallowed my grimace and forced a smile.
She picked the ice up, tossed it into the sink and hopped up onto the counter beside me.
After the talk with my dad, we’d taken over the pool house as our meet-up spot now that the surface around the pool had been redone with underfloor heating. We were back here, just like old times.
Her eyebrows dipped. “I thought you didn’t have practice today.”
“I forgot.” Lilah didn’t need to know these weren’t Hawthorne Prep practices. I took a step and reached for a glass to get her a drink instead of the plastic bags I’d need to ice my shoulder. Mistake.
Pain shot through my shoulder, stealing my breath.
Lilah gasped and jumped from the counter. Her warm hands were on me in half a second, running over my back and shoulders. Insistent, probing fingers found where my muscles screamed like she had a spidey sense about it.
“You’re hurt.”
Damn, that felt good. Almost good enough to forget I was three seconds from diving into the pool for some muscle relief.
“I’ll be okay. Occupational hazard.”
“Doesn’t your coach know that overworking muscles doesn’t help you perform? All it does increase your injury chances.” She yanked a Ziploc bag from one of the drawers.
“It’s the only way to level up.” I walked between her legs with one hand braced on the counter on either side of her.
She dropped ice cubes into a bag and rested it against my trap. Her fingers brushed my neck right above my collar.
I shuddered.
“Too cold?” She moved it lower, not knowing the effect she had on me.
I rested the top of my head against her chest. Her chin rubbed along the back of my skull.
“Should we move to a chair or the couch?”
“No, let’s just stay here for a while.” I held on to her waist with both hands, breathing in everything about this moment.
I flashed to a future where this was us.
Me after a rough game in our apartment and Lilah giving me her special brand of TLC while I took care of her in every other way. Having her with me, safe, happy, loved.
The word hit me so sharply that I jolted.
Then the obviousness of it became clear.
Of course, I loved Lilah. I’d loved her for so long.
Maybe even from that moment I picked up her first little origami creation.
Like I had to know more about her and had jumped at the first opportunity.
I’d run from those feelings, tried to cover them with indifference or hatred, but under everything was the fear of feeling this deeply for her. It scared me shitless.
She ran a soothing hand over my back. “Sure you’re okay?”
I squeezed her waist. “A lot better with you here. Sometimes my dad’s practices get to me.”
Her body jumped a little and her hand paused its maddening strokes before beginning again. “I thought it was a Hawthorne practice?”
Damn, the warm fuzzies made me spill more than I planned. “Same difference.”
She leaned back and raised my head to meet her eyes. “Your dad’s got you going this hard during the season? What does your coach think about that?”
“He wants what’s best for me. They both do.”
“Looks like he’s punishing you.”
I jerked back, even though she was right. “He’s pushing me. There’s a difference.”
“We were in this place all summer, Mason.” Recognition flared in her eyes. “That was all your dad, wasn’t it?”
I clenched my jaw.
“Night after night, I saw the aftermath. What he put you through wasn’t okay.”
She didn’t get how much I needed to win. How much rode on me being the best. “What he put me through is the reason we haven’t lost a game all season.”
“Or in spite of it.”
“How many people are lucky enough to have a former pro coaching them? I need every bit of an edge I can get.”
“Isn’t he supposed to be your dad first?”
“He’s both.” Uncomfortable flares of annoyance fired in my head. I flexed my fingers, trying to dislodge the uneasy ripples flowing through me.
“He shouldn’t be doing this.”
“You don’t understand what it takes to go pro. The odds are astronomical. You know how hard it is for fashion. I’m telling you how cutthroat it is for hockey, okay?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you hurting.” She beckoned me forward.
I captured her wrist and rested my cheek against her hand. “No, I’m sorry for…my father’s done a lot for me over the years. A lot. He didn’t have to, but he did, so doing these little things is the least I can do.” And what I need to do to keep you.
“Little things.” Lilah clamped her lips together before offering me a small smile. “Come here.”
I went back to her embrace. After a few minutes, we moved to the couch in the living room and watched people on TV get obliterated by soft, foamy obstacles, then knocked into water. We were back in one of our old poses, with my head in Lilah’s lap.
She’d been working on the muscles in my neck for the past twenty minutes.
I’d never had more effective PT.
“That guy’s going to be hurting tomorrow,” she said. “His toes touched the back of his head. Are we having dinner with Alena and Zoe tonight?”
“Alena took Zoe to her game an hour away. She said there’s good shopping there, so they’re staying the night.”
She chewed one side of her lip. “So you’re all alone?”
“Not the first time. Don’t worry, I’m not afraid of the dark.” I smiled up at her.
She ran her hand over my shoulder. “How’s the pain?”
“It’s not painful anymore, just stiff as hell.” I raised my other arm, attempting to rotate it in a circle.
Lilah cut her gaze sideways, out the large sliding glass doors that overlooked the pool. “There’s one thing we could try.” The mischief-making in her eyes struck a chord of hunger deep inside.
“What exactly?”
“Come with me.” She tugged me up from the couch and held on to my hand with both of hers, leading me with a quick glance over her shoulder. She could’ve been guiding me into a furnace and I’d have followed.
She pulled me through the pool house door and around the glittering water toward the far side, where the infinity-edge hot tub roiled with bubbles and jets.
The tail end of winter meant we’d have bursts of sunny warm days only to be dragged back into the freezing cold blasts, but we’d had a run of not-so-freezing days, which meant being out here in just a Henley wasn’t too bad.
But Lilah’s semi-unsure, almost embarrassed look had me intrigued beyond words.
“What’s the plan?”
She kicked off her shoes. “I think this will help.”
I toed mine off, loving how her mind worked. “Are these doctor’s orders?”
Her whole face lit up even more. “Yeah, they are.” She popped open the buttons of her jeans, shimmied them down her thighs before folding them and setting them on a sun lounger.
She tugged her sweatshirt off, leaving her in a navel-grazing, spaghetti-strapped top with frilly lace bordering the top and hiding her cleavage from me.
“Want to try?”
I stripped down to my boxers like my clothes were on fire. Sore muscles be damned.
She stuck a toe into the tub and looked at me with the blooming flush of nervousness creeping across her skin while she drove this bus toward the windy cliffs of temptation. “If you don’t—”
“I want, Lilah. Fuck, do I want.”
Her lips twitched into a small smile, then she stepped into the tub and sat on the bench that ran around the inside.
Watching the water travel up the fabric of her white shirt sent me scrambling to get in before the true level of my excitement rose to stomach-tapping levels.
I almost cannonballed into the warm, gently churning water.
Lilah yelped and stood to keep her hair dry, which only showed off the soaking-wet, practically see-through camisole.
I bit back my groan.
She’d somehow managed to pull her bra off with her hoodie, or she’d not been wearing one this whole time.
Either way, I reined in the urge to tug her down against me.