Chapter Ten
VICTORIA
I have never, in my life, worn a jersey. A sport jersey specifically.
I’ve worn charity-branded long-sleeves and Disney spirit jerseys…but never one that was for an actual team.
And damn if I don’t look good in one.
The black and blue of the Toronto Nighthawks logo looks brilliant against my skin tone, and the oversized boyfriend style is something I could definitely get behind for future styling.
My record company always put me in tight, bright dresses, but I’m loving how I feel in classic jeans and this dark jersey.
As I turn to admire the back of the outfit, my heart skips a beat when I see the bold name cross the back: Warren.
Rationally, I know this is standard on hockey jerseys, and thousands of fans wear the exact same thing. Yet seeing his name on me sends tingles down my spine. Almost like he’s claiming me. That I’m his and he wants the world to know it.
Silly thought, I’m very aware…but still.
It gives me a sense of calm as I contemplate walking into a new unknown.
I’ve never been to a charity event that wasn’t all glitz and glam. Although Mason had been very sparse on the details, I did know that today’s event would be held at the arena and be more of an interactive occasion—whatever that meant.
Giving myself one more look in the full-length mirror, I decide that I want my hair out of my face today. The long waves look good down, but it covers the back of the jersey. Even if I’m fooling myself, I want others to see his name on my back.
After all, I have to support my man.
Grabbing my brush, I gather my hair and comb it back. I’m just securing the tie when my phone starts to vibrate with a call. Mason’s name flashes on the screen.
With hurried movements, I wrap the hair tie one more time, done, and then reach for my cell.
“Hey,” I say into the phone, nerves making my voice sound husky.
“Hey. You okay?”
“Oh. Yeah. Yes. Had to run for the phone,” I fib, not wanting to tell him the truth. “All good.”
He chuckles at my weirdness. “I’m glad. Look, I just wanted to let you know at any time today, if you feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed, you can leave. Just say the word and I’ll help get you back home or into a quiet space.”
My chin tucks to my chest as I try and hold in the emotion his words stir up. Even though today is his time to shine with his teammates, he’s thinking about me.
“Thank you,” I whisper. Unspoken words of gratitude dance on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t get them out.
“I got you, Victoria. Always.” There’s a pause.
I’m not sure if he’s letting his words sink into the moment or if he’s giving me a second to get myself under control—either way, I’m thankful.
“So, the car should be there to pick you up within the next fifteen minutes and take you to the arena. You’re on the list, so you should be directed to the team’s area.
I might not be there right away, but I’ll come find you as soon as I’m done setting up with the guys. That sound okay?”
“Sounds great. But you still haven’t told me what the event actually is.”
“Ahh, I see you’ve caught on to my sneaky ways,” he jokes, a smile in his voice.
“I’m not sure if you’ve heard about Goals for Good, but it’s a youth mental health charity started by a teammate of mine.
We take the kids through some drills, do some one-on-one mentoring, and end the day with a speaker.
I promise it’s a good time and a cause that you could get behind. ”
I’m nodding, even though he can’t see me. God, this man. Yes, this sounds like something I could support.
“I haven’t heard of Goals for Good, but I can definitely see how a charity like that could really impact young athletes. But I have a very important question for you…” I trail off, heightening the anticipation. “I don’t actually have to get on the ice, do I? I’m in no way a good skater.”
His laugh is infectious, making me chuckle at his reaction. “No, you don’t have to get on the ice if you don’t want to. However, I’d love to take you for a spin.”
“And here I thought I’d be spinning around the dance floor, but instead, I’m trading a fancy dress for elbow pads,” I tease.
Not wanting him to think I’m not excited for the event, I continue.
“I may take you up on that offer if you promise to hold on to me. I don’t want to make a complete fool of myself today and fall face-first on the ice. ”
“I’d never let you go, Victoria. You’re always safe with me.” There’s a noise in the background, and I faintly hear his name being called. “Shit. I gotta go, but I’ll see you soon.”
I hang up the phone with a soft smile still on my lips and a warmth in my chest I haven’t felt in…God, maybe ever.
He says things like “I got you” and “You’re safe with me” like he means them.
That he’s taking our relationship—friendship and fake boyfriend/girlfriend pact—seriously.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a partnership like this before.
And the worst part, the part that makes my stomach flip and my heart flutter, is that I believe him. I know he’ll be true to his word.
This whole relationship is supposed to be pretend. Smoke and mirrors. Strategy for both of us.
But then he goes and says things like that, and it doesn’t feel like a game anymore.
It feels real.
And that’s the most dangerous part.
***
The buzz of the arena hits me the second I walk through the back entrance. The cool, icy air sends shivers through me, making my next breath deeper. I’m shaking, but that has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with nerves.
I’ve never been in this arena except for when it’s been modified for a concert. Seeing the rink for the first time is invigorating and a little intimidating. Their playing area is huge.
No wonder Mason has the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen. He’s got to skate back and forth on that mammoth for hours on end.
As I walk deeper into the arena, I see a huge banner hanging up over the ice: Goals for Good: Building resilience both on and off the ice.
There’s a swirl of chatter all around me as I walk further down the aisle.
Kids are running between the stadium seats, while others are lacing up their skates on a nearby bench, with parents huddled nearby.
Volunteers with dark blue and white shirts are everywhere, watching the action and helping with setup.
Smiling as I take it all in, I then notice familiar jerseys zipping around the rink. There are Nighthawks players scattered across the ice and sidelines, talking and what I assume is warming up, with a handful of eager kids trailing after them.
And in the middle of it all is Mason.
He has his back to me, but I know it’s him. At this point, with how connected I feel to him, I bet I could find him in a dark, crowded room by feel alone.
His helmet is off, dangling in one hand while the other gestures wildly in the air as he tells some amusing story to his friends.
A man who looks oddly familiar throws his head back on a laugh and lightly punches Mason in the shoulder.
The stranger’s eyes connect with mine, and a second later, he gestures over to me.
Mason turns, smiling so wide it knocks the breath right out of me. Like an absolute idiot, I wave.
With my awkward greeting, I think his smile gets even bigger. I watch as Mason pivots his skates and is about to make his way toward me when a tiny body crashes, then slides on the ice into Mason.
Without hesitation, Mason crouches beside a little boy, helping him back onto his feet and holding him until his balance is restored.
Adjusting the boy’s gloves, his hands move carefully, patient in a way I didn’t expect.
He says something that makes the kid laugh and fist-bumps him before they both start moving in opposite directions.
…Mason coming right to me.
Oh boy.
My body lights up as he makes his way toward me, tingling all over and feeling electrified. His long glides get him to me extra quick, and before I can prepare myself for the impact that is Mason, his skates click against the rubber mats. Then he’s here, right in front of me.
Before I can say a word, his arm slides around my waist, and he drops a kiss right on my temple.
The tender kiss is flawless, perfect. Expertly executed, like he’s done it a thousand times.
On the outside, I’m sure I look perfectly comfortable. My cheeks are no doubt turning a bright pink, and my eyes may be a bit wider than usual, but that can all be attributed to the cold.
Inside? I am nothing but sparks and spirals of emotion. I feel like I’m about to come out of my skin, absorb into Mason and curl up in his warmth. That one simple kiss to my temple has rocked my world.
And I want more of it.
“You made it,” he says, voice low, lips still near my ear.
“Obviously,” I manage, not trusting my voice with anything more.
Needing to touch him, to anchor myself to this moment, I reach out and grip his jersey in both hands.
Pulling him closer until our faces are only inches apart, I smile up at him.
“After seeing how good I look in a jersey, I couldn’t stay at home. ”
His eyes twinkle as he moves slightly backward and takes me all in.
“You look spectacular,” he agrees. Then a mischievous expression grows on his face. “You look damn good in my jersey. With my name on your back.”
Claiming you.
That last bit was implied with the way he’s gazing at me, hunger in his eyes.
Once again hypnotized by the allure of this man, I willingly go with him when he breaks our little secret conversation and guides me further into the arena.
“Max,” Mason calls out to the ice. “Come meet Victoria.”
Dragging my eyes off Mason, I watch as the familiar man I’d locked eyes with on the ice moments ago turns and makes his way over.
“Do I get an introduction too, or is his haughty highness the only one?” a teasing voice asks from behind us.
“Sabrina! I didn’t know you’d be here. Max didn’t mention it.”