CHAPTER 3 What He Never Told Me
I didn’t sleep.
Not really.
I lay beneath the heavy lodge blanket with Mason’s jacket still around my shoulders and Noah’s message burning inside my head.
**Lily died because of a choice Mason made.**
Seven words.
That was all it took to rearrange everything.
By three in the morning, I had read them so many times they no longer looked like language. They looked like evidence.
By four, I was angry at Noah for sending them without explanation.
By five, I was angry at Mason for refusing to tell me anything.
By six, I was angry at myself for caring this much after knowing the man for less than twenty-four hours.
The room had gone cold sometime before dawn. The fire had burned low, and pale light began pushing through the snow-covered windows.
Mason never came back.
That worried me more than I wanted to admit.
At six twenty-three, I gave up pretending I might fall asleep.
I climbed out of bed, pulled on my jeans, shoved my feet into the decorative boots Mason had mocked, and went looking for him.
The hallway was silent.
Emergency lights glowed faintly along the walls. Somewhere downstairs, I could hear people moving—doors opening, furniture scraping, someone coughing.
The lobby fireplace had been rebuilt.
Mason sat alone in one of the leather chairs.
He was facing the fire.
Still wearing yesterday’s black T-shirt.
Still awake.
A paper cup of coffee rested untouched in his hands.
I stopped several feet away.
He knew I was there before I spoke.
“You should be sleeping.”
His voice sounded rough.
“So should you.”
“I’m fine.”
“That line is getting old.”
The corner of his mouth moved.
Not quite a smile.
I walked closer.
He didn’t look at me.
The man from last night—the arrogant, teasing version of Mason—was gone again.
I sat in the chair opposite him.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I placed my phone on the small table between us.
The message from Noah was still on the screen.
Mason’s eyes dropped to it.
His expression didn’t change.
That told me enough.
“You knew he would say something like that.”
“Yes.”
“Is it true?”
He stared at the fire.
“Mason.”
“Yes.”
My stomach twisted.
One word.
No defense.
No excuse.
Just yes.
I had expected denial.
Maybe anger.
Maybe some complicated explanation about Noah twisting the story.
Instead, Mason looked like a man admitting to a sentence he had already been serving for years.
“What choice?”
His fingers tightened around the coffee cup.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Stop deciding that for me.”
“I’m trying to keep you out of something that happened before you had anything to do with it.”
“You keep saying that like it makes sense.”
“It does.”
“No. It makes things worse.”
He finally looked at me.
His eyes were exhausted.
“Emma.”
“My brother says your sister died because of you.”
Mason flinched.
Barely.
But I saw it.
“And you expect me to just forget that?”
“No.”
“Then tell me.”
His jaw worked.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he placed the coffee on the table.
“Lily wasn’t supposed to be in that car.”
I held still.
Mason looked down at his hands.
“She called me that night. Said she needed a ride.”
“From where?”
“A party.”
The word came with obvious disgust.
“Whose party?”
He hesitated.
“Noah’s.”
My chest tightened.
“You said Noah was there.”
“He was.”
“What happened?”
Mason leaned back and closed his eyes.
For a second, he looked older.
Not twenty-eight.
Not a famous athlete.
Just tired.
“She was dating someone.”
“On Noah’s team?”
He opened his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I’m not giving you his name.”
“Mason—”
“He’s out of hockey now. Married. Has kids. I’m not dragging him into this.”
“That sounds incredibly generous considering your sister died.”
His face hardened.
“It isn’t generosity.”
“Then what is it?”
“Punishment has an expiration date.”
I stared at him.
“And yours doesn’t?”
His expression changed.
I regretted the question immediately.
Mason looked toward the fire.
“No.”
The answer was so quiet it hurt.
I leaned forward.
“What happened that night?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
Then he began.
“Lily had been seeing this guy for a few months. I hated him.”
“Why?”
“Because he was twenty-four and she was twenty.”
“That’s not exactly criminal.”
“No. But he was selfish. Liked attention. Liked having people around when it suited him.”
Mason’s mouth tightened.
“Lily thought she could change him.”
I knew that tone.
It belonged to someone who had replayed every mistake until even the details became scars.
“She went to the party because he asked her to.”
“And Noah?”
“Noah was there with a bunch of players.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
Mason laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“I was in Vancouver.”
“For a game?”
“Yes.”
“So she called you while you were away.”
“At one fourteen in the morning.”
He remembered the exact time.
Of course he did.
“She was crying.”
Something inside me tightened.
“She told me she wanted to leave.”
“Why?”
“She’d found him with another woman.”
I closed my eyes.
“God.”
“She wanted me to pick her up.”
“But you were in Vancouver.”
“Yes.”
“Did you call Noah?”
Mason looked at me.
That was the answer before he spoke.
“Yes.”
My pulse quickened.
“You asked Noah to take her home.”
“I called him because he was sober.”
“How did you know?”
“He was driving.”
“And did he agree?”
Mason’s jaw tightened.
“At first.”
Something about those words made my stomach drop.
“At first?”
Mason stared into the fire.
“He said he’d take her.”
“Then what happened?”
“He and I had been fighting for weeks.”
“About hockey?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“About her.”
I frowned.
“About Lily?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Mason looked at me.
“Because Noah knew she was dating his teammate.”
“And?”
“And he knew the guy was cheating.”
My anger arrived instantly.
“Noah knew?”
“Yes.”
“And he didn’t tell her?”
“He told me.”
That stopped me.
“What?”
“Your brother told me the guy was screwing around.”
“Then why didn’t you tell Lily?”
“I did.”
Mason’s voice hardened.
“She didn’t believe me.”
I exhaled slowly.
“So Noah knew. You knew. Lily stayed with him anyway.”
“Yes.”
“And that night—”
“She found out herself.”
The pieces were forming, but the picture was still incomplete.
“What happened after you called Noah?”
Mason looked toward the window.
“He went outside.”
“To get Lily?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And they argued.”
My pulse quickened.
“About what?”
“He wanted her to wait. Said he had to deal with something inside first.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I wasn’t there.”
The sharpness in his voice reminded me that every part of this story came from secondhand information and regret.
“So Lily waited?”
“For a few minutes.”
“And then?”
“She called me again.”
Mason’s voice changed.
His fingers curled against his knee.
“She was angry.”
I stayed silent.
“She said she didn’t need anyone. Said she could take care of herself.”
“Mason…”
“I told her not to leave.”
My chest tightened.
“I told her to stay exactly where she was. I said I’d find someone else.”
He looked down.
“But she’d been drinking.”
The words fell heavily between us.
“She drove?”
“No.”
I frowned.
“Then who did?”
Mason looked at me.
“Her boyfriend.”
I stared at him.
“The guy who cheated on her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He came outside. Apologized. Offered to take her home.”
“And Noah let her go with him?”
Mason’s jaw clenched.
“That’s why I blamed him.”
There it was.
Not hockey.
Not ego.
Not competition.
A dead girl.
A terrible night.
A decision someone thought they could undo later.
I swallowed.
“But Noah says Lily died because of a choice you made.”
Mason didn’t answer immediately.
When he finally spoke, his voice was almost empty.
“I told her to stay.”
“That isn’t a choice that caused her death.”
“I also told her something else.”
His eyes met mine.
“I told her if she got back into that relationship, I was done helping her clean up the mess.”
My stomach tightened.
“Mason.”
“She called me controlling.”
“You were angry.”
“I told her if she wanted to make adult decisions, she could deal with adult consequences.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Great last conversation with your little sister.”
My throat tightened.
“You didn’t know it would be the last.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It does.”
“No.”
His voice sharpened.
“It doesn’t.”
Several heads turned in our direction.
Mason lowered his voice.
“She asked me for help, Emma.”
“You tried to help.”
“I was tired.”
He looked at me.
“I was tired of the drama. Tired of fixing things. Tired of warning her about the same guy.”
“Mason—”
“So I got angry.”
His voice broke slightly.
“And instead of telling my sister I loved her and finding a way to get her home, I made sure she knew I was disappointed in her.”
I didn’t know what to say.
There are moments when comfort becomes insulting.
This was one of them.
I reached across the space between us and placed my hand over his.
Mason stared at it.
He didn’t pull away.
“What happened to the car?”
He inhaled slowly.
“Her boyfriend was drunk.”
I closed my eyes.
“He lost control on an overpass.”
“Oh my God.”
“He survived.”
“And Lily?”
Mason’s face went still.
“She didn’t.”
The silence that followed felt sacred.
I kept my hand on his.
Mason looked toward the fire.
For several minutes, neither of us moved.
Then I asked the question I wasn’t sure I wanted answered.
“Why does Noah blame you?”
Mason’s fingers shifted beneath mine.
“Because I called him.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“If I hadn’t called him, maybe he would have stayed inside. Maybe Lily wouldn’t have expected him to take her home.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Grief doesn’t make sense.”
“But why would Noah blame you for that?”
“Because he blamed himself first.”
I stared at him.
Mason looked at me.
“He was supposed to take her home.”
The words hit hard.
“He knows that.”
“Then why didn’t he?”
Mason’s expression darkened.
“He went back inside.”
“For what?”
“I told you. I don’t know.”
“You never asked?”
“I asked plenty.”
“And?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
That didn’t sound like Noah.
My brother could be stubborn.
Private.
Protective.
But evasive?
About something this serious?
That was different.
“Did you fight afterward?”
Mason gave me a hollow smile.