Chapter Twenty-Four Mason Reed #2
“I accept.”
“And you still have to talk to Gabe.”
“I did.”
“Properly.”
“I will.”
“And Sophie.”
“Terrifyingly.”
“And possibly teams.”
“Yes.”
“And me.”
His voice softened. “First.”
That did it.
Her eyes filled.
She looked away immediately, furious with herself.
Mason stayed still.
If she needed to hide, he would give her a wall instead of a spotlight.
She breathed once.
Twice.
Then she looked back.
“I need to believe you’ll tell me the hard thing before you make it public.”
“I will.”
“I need to believe you won’t let me turn myself into operations so I don’t have to feel it.”
His mouth curved. “That seems outside my authority, but I’ll try.”
“Careful.”
“Always.”
The word came out before he could stop it.
Billie froze.
He froze too.
Then her expression softened.
This time, she did not flinch from it.
“Still dangerous,” she said.
“I know.”
“But less stupid than it was Wednesday.”
He huffed a laugh. “Growth.”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll take maybe.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t build a life on my maybes.”
“Then give me one thing I can build on tonight.”
The words hung there.
Too much?
Maybe.
But Billie did not step back.
She looked at him for a long moment, then down at their hands.
This time, she reached first.
Not in front of the whole room accidentally.
Not hidden under a table.
Deliberate.
She slipped her hand into his.
“Dinner first,” she said.
His fingers closed around hers.
“Good foundation.”
“Do not be cute about foundations.”
“Wouldn’t dare.”
“You would.”
“After dessert.”
She shook her head, but her smile stayed.
For one moment, the complicated future did not disappear. It remained exactly where it was, waiting with contracts, medical reports, team calls, distance, fear, and every unanswered question.
But Billie was holding his hand anyway.
Not because the questions were solved.
Because he had told the truth about them.
Mason could build on that.
Carefully.
One honest choice at a time.
The rest of dinner unfolded like a victory with sore feet.
Billie worked the room, still holding herself like a woman in charge, but different now. Less alone. She accepted thanks without deflecting all of them. She let Evie drag her into one photo. She let Max present her with a handwritten certificate reading:
ICE QUEEN OF SYDNEY HOCKEY OFFICIAL PROTECTOR OF KIDS, RINKS, AND COFFEE BOUNDARIES
She laughed.
Mason watched from the sponsor table and forgot to hide how fond he looked.
Harper caught him.
Of course.
She sidled up beside him with a slice of cake. “You know your face is public, right?”
“So I’ve been told.”
“It’s very loud.”
“I’m learning to live with that.”
“Billie will threaten you.”
“She already has.”
“Good. Tradition matters.”
Mason smiled. “How are comments?”
“Mostly good. Ryan is getting ratioed into another dimension. Amelia’s folder means we have a clean paper trail if he escalates. Graham’s grant changed the whole night. The Ice Queen hoodie is selling like a fever dream.” Harper looked toward Billie. “She needed this.”
“Yes.”
Harper’s expression softened. “She needed you not to make it about you too.”
Mason looked at her.
Harper shrugged. “You didn’t. That matters.”
Before Mason could answer, Max appeared at his elbow with a plate of cake.
“Tall Regret,” he said.
Mason turned. “Youth Ambassador.”
Max handed him the plate. “Community Useful people get cake.”
“I’m honoured.”
“You should be.”
Mason accepted the cake with the seriousness it deserved. “Thank you.”
Max studied him. “Are you leaving?”
The question landed too cleanly.
Harper inhaled.
Mason crouched carefully, because Sophie was somewhere and had instincts.
“I don’t know what my hockey future looks like yet,” he said.
Max frowned. “That sounds like adult avoidance.”
“It does,” Mason admitted. “But it’s honest.”
Max considered. “Are you leaving soon?”
“No.”
“Are you going to disappear without saying goodbye?”
Mason’s chest tightened.
“No.”
Max nodded. “Good. Billie hates that.”
Mason glanced at Billie across the room.
She was talking to Priya, smiling at something Evie had said, one hand resting lightly on the Tom Hartley grant folder.
“I know,” he said.
Max leaned closer. “Also, if you hurt her, Evie says she’ll put rental skates in your suitcase.”
Harper choked on cake.
Mason kept his face solemn. “That seems fair.”
“I would add wet socks.”
“Also fair.”
Max nodded. “Then we understand each other.”
“Yes, sir.”
Max walked away.
Harper looked at Mason. “He’s going to run the country one day.”
“Or the rink.”
“Maybe both.”
Across the room, Gabe ended a call and gave Mason a nod.
Later.
Not urgent.
Not tonight.
Good.
Mason found Billie near the rink doors at the end of the evening, after dessert, after photos, after Graham’s final handshake, after Amelia left with Priya and Evie’s number in her phone, after Luca told Sophie goodnight with an expression so careful Mason almost felt bad for ever calling him Too Pretty.
Almost.
Billie stood alone by Tom’s photo.
Her fingers rested lightly on the frame’s edge.
Not the cracked one.
The restored copy.
Mason stopped a few feet away. “Do you want space?”
She looked over. “No.”
One word.
Simple.
Huge.
He stepped beside her.
Tom Hartley smiled at them from the photo, caught forever in an old rink jacket, surrounded by children in borrowed gear and the kind of pride money could not buy.
“He would have liked tonight,” Billie said.
“Yeah.”
“He would have complained about the flowers.”
“Obviously.”
“And Graham’s table linens.”
“Too fancy?”
“Deeply.”
“And me?”
She looked at Mason.
He braced.
Her smile was soft and devastating. “He would have made you sharpen skates before deciding.”
Mason put a hand over his heart. “A fair trial.”
“And Max would testify.”
“Against me?”
“Probably.”
He looked back at Tom’s photo. “I’d like to have known him.”
Billie’s eyes softened. “He would have liked making you earn approval.”
“I’m starting to understand that’s a family tradition.”
“It’s a rink tradition.”
“I accept.”
She was quiet a moment.
Then she said, “Thank you for not saying yes to Tuesday.”
“I didn’t say no forever.”
“I know.”
“Billie.”
“I know,” she said, turning his own words on him with a sad little smile. “I’m trying honesty too.”
He nodded.
She looked at the ice. “I don’t want your dream to get smaller because of me.”
Mason’s chest pulled tight.
“It isn’t smaller,” he said. “It’s changing shape.”
She looked at him.
“I thought the dream was getting back exactly where I was,” he said. “Same league, same pace, same proof. Maybe that still matters. Maybe a version of it can happen. But this week made me realise I don’t want a career that requires me to abandon every place that makes me better.”
Her eyes shone.
“Does Sydney make you better?”
He smiled faintly. “You have a terrifying respect curriculum.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Yes,” he said. “Sydney makes me better.”
Her lips parted.
“And you?”
His voice lowered. “You make me want to be honest before I am impressive.”
Billie stared at him.