Chapter 26
Mason
I knew something was wrong the second I walked into the locker room and the music cut out mid-track.
“Good show out there,” Coach said, looking at each of us in turn. “But I’m thinking of switching things up a bit for the second round.”
Murmurs rippled through the locker room, and my heart leapt into my throat when Coach’s gaze came to rest on me.
“Calder, you’re benched for Game 1.”
The words didn’t land at first. Not really. I stood there blinking stupidly at him, as if he were speaking a different language.
Grayson took a step forward. “Coach, are you sure tha—?”
Coach raised a hand that instantly silenced the captain, like some magical mute button.
“Nothing personal,” Coach went on. “It’s just about priorities. Besides, I think some of the other guys are ready to show up, and I want to give them the chance.”
“What?” My brain finally clicked. “Our formation’s working. We’re winning. Why mess with it now?”
Coach’s mouth twitched, but he buried his contempt before saying, “I don’t appreciate the attitude, Calder. Keep it up, and you’ll miss more than the first game.”
Every muscle in my body tensed like I’d just been smashed into the boards. Actually, it felt a little worse than that. It felt like exactly the kind of personal move he said it wasn’t.
“I kinda feel like I’m being punished for something I didn’t do.”
“I’m not in charge of your feelings,” Coach said, totally unbothered. “I am in charge of this team’s road to the final, and I make the calls.”
Thankfully, Grayson stepped forward. He was my Hail Mary in this. If anyone could speak some sense into Coach, it was him.
“Coach, come on,” he said, keeping his tone submissive but firm. “You can’t bench our top scorer right at the top of Round Two.”
“This isn’t up for debate.” His voice was cold steel. “The Denver Avalanche grind guys into the boards and eat second chances for breakfast. I’m not risking playoff-ending injuries this early, and I can’t risk anything less than 100% commitment.”
I knew I shouldn’t speak, but I couldn’t help but ask, “How am I not committed?” Every eye in the room landed on me, and it was like the air got thinner.
I looked to Hunter, hoping for backup. But just like everyone else, he was caught between confused and pissed off. Too afraid to challenge Coach’s decision.
And then, like the cherry on the sundae of this screwed-up moment, Tucker cleared his throat. “You chose to go to a funeral instead of show up for the team. That’s not a hundred percent.”
I whirled toward him. “Are you serious right now?”
Tucker stood tall, ready to square off with me. I wished he would. It would give me somewhere to put all this anger.
“You walked out,” he said, jabbing a finger in my face. Grayson came forward and touched his shoulder to try to get him to back off, but Tucker didn’t stop. “If the game doesn’t come first, then you’re not in it.”
I kept my voice low when I said, teeth clenched, “My high school coach died. I had to pay my respects.”
“And we lost that night.”
The way he looked when he said it made me flash back to when I got back from Fredericksburg, and found that note in my locker. Tucker must’ve been the one who left it.
His last comment got everyone talking at the same time. Some were voicing concern about the way forward, some were downright pissed off. Funny how they directed that anger at me, and not the man who took me out of the game. My face burned under the scathing looks and muttered curses.
“Whoa, that was fast.” Hunter pushed off his locker, phone held up for all to see.
I squinted at the screen. It was a post on our official page, already racking up thousands of likes and comments.
Strategic Shift: Calder benched for Game One against Avalanche. Coach McAvoy confirms it’s about chemistry.
“Are you kidding me?” I mumbled.
There was even a staged quote from Bob about “rotational optimization”.
Coach didn’t even flinch. “Team lists were released before practice.”
It didn’t matter how hard they played the PR spin. Nobody was going to believe this was about strategy.
As I stared back at Coach, there was so much I wanted to say to him. I wanted to call him out for letting his personal feelings cloud his coaching judgement. I wanted to outright accuse him of benching me because I was involved with his daughter.
Something stopped me. Barely.
I grabbed my bag and stormed out without saying anything or bothering to change out of my kit. I hit the parking lot, and welcomed the fresh air on my face. It did nothing for the fire in my chest, though.
I needed something a little stronger for that.
Red Jack’s Bar was twenty minutes outside of town, with peanut shells on the floor and cheap bourbon that burned going down. Nobody here cared too much about hockey.
The bartender was in his mid-fifties, and rocked a ponytail and wire-rimmed glasses. “You look like shit, buddy.”
“Thanks. I’ll have a double whiskey and Coke.”
I downed it in one swig, and immediately ordered another. Told him to keep ‘em coming, while the juke cycled through hits from the Golden Opry era. Enough time passed that I was able to predict the next song. Enough drinks that I was fine with singing along to the ones I knew.
I didn’t want to think about the game I wouldn’t be playing, or the arena I wasn’t in. The people I wasn’t with. I sure as hell didn’t want to think about Cass.
But she popped into my head anyway, uninvited, that one part of my brain still loyal to what we had.
Her welding mask pushed up on her head, hair tied back.
The way she smiled when she was proud of something, but tried not to show it.
The way she looked at me like I was more than a game stat or a number on a jersey.
I wasn’t benched because I couldn’t play.
Her dad could’ve sworn high and low, but it was obvious he benched me because of her.
Which sucked even more that I ended things to keep him happy in the first place.
It was like none of that mattered. He was still pissed I crossed the line he’d drawn in the sand.
I raked a hand through my hair and threw back another double. This wasn’t working. Four drinks in and instead of going numb, I was feeling more.
The bartender refused my next order. “I’m gonna tell you what I tell every guy who comes in here trying to drink away woman troubles. Only the woman in question can fix it.”
His advice was strong enough to get me to call an Uber all the way to Cass’ apartment. I knocked, nowhere near sober. No sound came from inside, and I knocked again.
“Cass!” More knocking. She had to be home. If not, I was ready to camp on her thrifted welcome mat until she got here. “Cass, it’s me!”
“Shut up!” It floated through one of her neighbor’s doors.
Made me cackle, and I was still laughing when Cass’ front door cracked open.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I leaned against the doorframe, almost pushing all the way inside. “Ma’am, I wanted to talk to you about your car’s extended warranty.”
“Oh, God, you’re drunk.” She made a show of waving away the fumes from my breath. It didn’t slow my roll one bit.
“How dare you? You’re drunk,” I said, deeply offended. “Now invite me in.”
“Go home, Mason,” she said, holding onto the door like she was still deciding whether or not to slam it in my face.
I adjusted my shoulder on the doorframe, missed, and staggered forward. Right into her. Cass’ hands shot out to keep us both from hitting the deck, and we stumbled into her living room.
“Ta-da!” I wanted to make a sweeping gesture with my arms, but it threw me off balance and I ended up flailing instead.
“Jesus, just sit down before you knock yourself out,” Cass said, leading me to her couch.
I flopped down and my head fell back, suddenly too heavy. “Got benched. But don’t worry, your dad said it’s nothing personal. Me? I’m very relieved about that. So relieved it’s not personal. Personally, that’s how I feel. About it being personal or not.”
“Okay, you’re going to stop talking while I brew a pot of strong coffee,” she said, already making her way to the kitchen. “You’ll be fine by the time the game starts.”
The game. As if I wanted to watch.
After my second cup, my head started to clear. But only a little. It was enough to register the icy glare she locked on me from the other end of the couch. That’s when guilt and embarrassment took over.
“I shouldn’t have come here. Sorry.” I focused on the tendrils of steam rising from the cup in my hands.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” she said. “You don’t get to make me your first port of call after bumping me to second place in your life. What was it…? Oh, hockey’s the only thing you want. Right?”
My throat burned with something that wasn’t coffee.
“Today was rough. I wanted to see you.”
Her laugh was sharp and ice cold. “No, you wanted to feel sorry for yourself somewhere you don’t have to look in the mirror.”
“That’s not fair.” I set down my cup and made to close the distance between us. She flinched back, and I stopped.
“Nothing about this is fair,” she said, her voice brittle. “You show up wasted, benched, and I’m supposed to what—console you? When I’m the ‘wrong move’ you couldn’t afford to make?”
“I made the wrong call, okay?” I snapped. “I thought that if I just focused on the game, everything would fall into place. That I could turn the noise down. Win something. Be someone.”
“Guess that’s working out great for you, huh?”
“I never called you a mistake,” I said, desperate to make her understand.
“You didn’t have to spell it out.” She flung her hands up. “You made it clear enough. I was the thing getting in the way of your perfect game. Hockey’s the dream, the priority. Not the woman who believed in you when no one else did.”
“Stop. Just… stop.” My voice cracked, and I hated how small it sounded. “You think this is what I wanted?”
“You made a choice.”
“Your dad made it for me!” All the anger and frustration that had been simmering just beneath the surface erupted, and I swept the cup of coffee from the table. It went crashing to the floor in a shower of steaming brew and shattered ceramic.
“Feel better?” Cass asked dryly.
I didn’t. I couldn’t look at her, so I just sank back into the couch.
“While you’re cleaning that up, I suggest you think about how this was your choice, Mason. You backed down. You let him have his way. You decided you have no control.”
I lurched to my feet, still unsteady but held up by anger. “I was trying to protect you.”
“From what? A career built on compromise? A man who can’t decide if he wants me or just wants to want me?”
“From a man who couldn’t give you what you deserved, which is everything.” My shoulders sagged, defeated. “The timing of it… It was just off. You’d have to put up with hours without me. Days, sometimes. I didn’t want to feel guilty about putting hockey above you. Or putting you above hockey.”
“So you chickened out.” Cass was relentless in making me see her point of view. “You decided to get rid of the choice altogether. But Mason, make no mistake, that was a choice too. And just so we’re clear, it wasn’t yours to make. You don’t decide what I deserve, or want.”
She sat there for a long time, breathing hard, like she couldn’t decide if she was going to yell again or throw something. Instead, she got up and walked to the window, talking with her back to me.
“You think you were doing something noble,” she said. Her voice was softer now, tired. “But all you did was take away my choice. I was choosing you, and you made it mean nothing.”
That cut deeper than any bullshit call from Coach McAvoy. I stared at her reflection in the glass, thinking how fragile she looked. But strong at the same time.
“You’re right,” I said quietly.
She didn’t turn around.
“I don’t know how to be with you and be the man they want me to be.”
Cass turned slowly, her eyes misted over. “Mason, if you’re ready to fight for something, then I’m with you all the way.”
All the fight drained out of me. Well, the misdirected fight, anyway. It was replaced by something else. Something like hope.
It was enough to carry out the clean-up operation, under her watchful eye. She was still a little mad at me, but managed to pass comments about my handiwork while I was at it. When I took the last of the rags through to the kitchen, I heard her TV go on. The game.
The roar of the crowd bled through the tinny speakers as I made my way into the living room again. It was already over. The Surge had won.
Without me.
The broadcast cut to the locker room where Grayson was front and center, fist raised in triumph. Cass didn’t say anything, but I felt the weight of it between us. They didn’t need me tonight. But suddenly, I needed her more than ever.
And that scared me way more than being benched.