Chapter 23
Mason
The locker room buzzed with energy as I adjusted the straps on my shoulder pads.
It was the first preseason game, and not just any game.
It was my official debut with the Miami Fusion.
Normally, it would be no big deal, but tonight I was stepping onto the ice in a new jersey, for a new team, in a city that was already waiting to judge me.
The prospects checked their gear three times over while I moved through my routine, pure muscle memory. Not every veteran player suited up for preseason, but I was glad Coach put me in. I needed to shake off the rust and get back into the rhythm.
“Callahan, you planning to get any ice time tonight, or you just here to make the bench look pretty?” Cade called as he laced up his skates.
I snorted. “Doubt I’ll see much action. Preseason’s for testing out the fresh meat.” I tipped my chin toward a couple of wide-eyed rookies in the corner. “Besides, Coach knows what I can do.”
My thoughts drifted to Lila as I tightened my elbow pads, and I couldn’t stop the small smile that kept sneaking in.
After that mess with Vanessa, we’d been keeping a low profile.
Honestly, it had been great. Lila wasn’t like the puck bunnies who chased the limelight.
She was content with a quiet night in, which I appreciated.
With my schedule, I couldn’t keep up with a woman who wanted clubs until two a.m.
I tugged on my jersey, the cool fabric familiar and steadying. It wouldn’t be long before the press got bored and we could go out without every idiot in Miami shoving a camera in our faces. Until then, keeping Lila to myself worked for me.
“Earth to Mason,” Brody said, waving a hand in front of my face. “You zoned out mid-lace, dude.”
I gave him a look. “Just visualizing the game, dumbass.”
“Sure, sure. Visualizing.” Brody’s grin turned sharp. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
Cade laughed, then sauntered over, his skates clunking against the rubber flooring. “Oh, he’s visualizing, alright. A certain interior decorator with legs for days and a smile that’s got our boy walking into walls.”
Dex joined us, crumbs falling from the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he was demolishing. “You haven’t blown up the unofficial Fusion fan page in a few days. No bulges. No bunny cookers. You’re losing your touch, man.”
“Let me guess,” Cade said, dropping onto the bench next to me, “you and Lila are hiding out from the press vultures. Haven’t seen a single photo of you two anywhere.”
I shrugged. “Lila’s not into that scene. Neither am I.”
“Match made in hockey heaven,” Brody called as he pulled on his jersey. “Girl who doesn’t want the spotlight with a guy whose naked billboards are plastered all over the city.”
I tuned them out when their ribbing swung to Dex.
Lila had been understandably skittish after the Vanessa mess.
I couldn’t blame her. Not many women would stick around after an ex showed up tossing risqué photos like confetti.
Luckily, Vanessa hadn’t posted anything else, and I hadn’t heard a word from her.
Hopefully she’d gone back to Toronto and picked a new victim.
Some poor bastard she could sell ‘casual’ to before she began planning their wedding on Pinterest.
For now, lying low with Lila suited me just fine. Let the press chase someone else for a week. I had better things to do.
I took a swig of my sports drink, half-listening as Brody and Dex argued about their pregame rituals.
“Trust me,” Brody insisted, waving a half-eaten banana, “potassium is key. You want to avoid those mid-game cramps.”
Dex rolled his eyes. “And I’m telling you, my lucky PB&J has never let me down.”
I snorted, about to add my own two cents, when the locker room door burst open.
“NOBODY MOVE. I’m coming in with my eyes completely covered because I respect your masculine privacy!” Gideon’s voice hit the room first, then he stumbled dramatically through the doorway. One hand was slapped over his eyes, while the other flailed in front of him like a malfunctioning wiper blade.
“I repeat. Eyes covered. No peeking at the merchandise. Not looking at any hockey hunks in their natural habitat!” Gideon continued, his designer boots tapping against the floor as he narrowly missed a garbage can. “Though I’m told the view is quite spectacular!”
The locker room paused. Twenty-three hockey players stared as my personal assistant pirouetted through the space like a blindfolded ballerina after three coffees.
“For the love of—” I muttered, dropping my face into my hands. “Gideon, what the actual fuck?”
“Language, Mason!” He gasped, still keeping his hand firmly over his eyes.
“Gid, we’re all dressed,” I growled as he teetered dangerously close to Hunter’s goalie stick. “Everyone’s fully clothed. It’s thirty minutes before game time.”
Gideon froze mid-stumble, then slowly lowered his hand. He pouted as he looked around with unabashed disappointment.
“Well, that’s false advertising,” he huffed, adjusting his designer glasses with a flourish. “The movies led me to believe there’d be towel-snapping and bare buttocks everywhere.”
The room erupted. Brody chuckled, shaking his head, while Dex inhaled peanut butter and started coughing.
“Bare buttocks?” Cade yelled from across the room. “What kind of hockey movies have you been watching, buddy?”
“Well, let’s see.” Gideon rubbed his chin. “I’ve seen Stick Handling: A Rough Encounter,” he began, lifting a finger as he started counting. “Slap Shot: Between the Pipes, Full Contact: Double Major Penalty, and Puck Buddies in the Locker Room.”
The locker room went dead silent as Gideon’s list hung in the air. Then, like a dam breaking, twenty-three hockey players lost their collective minds.
“Holy shit!” Brody wheezed, doubling over so hard he had to grab the bench for support.
I caught Gideon by the arm and steered him back toward the door, away from the chaos. “How the hell did you get in here? And what’s going on? You don’t waltz in like a one-man show unless you’ve got something to say.”
Gideon held up Sutton Bellamy’s Fusion staff badge. “Emergency access. Sutton let me in. She didn’t want to see anyone’s junk. I, on the other hand…”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Gid, what’s the emergency?”
“We’ve got a situation, Mase. Photos leaked online,” he said, eyes wide. “Of your sex dungeon.”
My brain shorted out. For a second, my lungs wouldn’t work. The floor felt unsteady, so I braced a hand against the wall. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Your sex dungeon. Some site called Miami Whispers just dropped them. They’re already everywhere.” His gaze darted around as if the tabloids might kick in the door.
“How did this even happen?” I kept my voice low, tight. The guys were still laughing, oblivious. “Who the hell—”
“I don’t know,” Gideon said, his usual sass gone. “But it looks bad, Mase. Really bad.”
My mind raced. A media firestorm was the last thing I needed, especially now. And how the hell did those pics get out? Only two people besides me had access to my condo. Gideon, my pain-in-the-ass assistant who’d been at my side for years.
And Lila.
The idea of Lila betraying me made my stomach roll. We hadn’t known each other long, but it was already starting to feel real. Past the flirting. Past the heat. Was I really about to suspect her of this?
The thought of either of them turning on me landed like a blindside hit, cold enough to lock me up.
“Mason?” Gideon’s voice cut through my spiral. “What do you want to do?”
I forced my focus back. The game. The team. I needed to do my job, no matter what disaster was waiting in my personal life.
“Nothing,” I said, tone flat. “We do nothing. Not right now.”
Gideon’s eyebrows shot up. “But—”
“I’ve got a game to play,” I cut him off, straightening and squaring my shoulders. “I’ll deal with this later.”
As Gideon left, I headed back to my locker and caught King watching me from across the room. Our eyes met, and I saw a flicker of concern in the captain’s usually unreadable expression.
I lifted my chin once. Time to shove this new scandal into a box and stack it away for later.
Around me, the guys fell into their rituals. Cade dancing on a bench. Brody sweet-talking his stick. Hunter tugging on his bright purple laces like good luck was threaded through them.
“What in the name of Wayne Gretzky…” I muttered as Roman downed a shot of something bright red.
“Beet juice,” he declared when he saw me watching. “It’s lucky.”
King caught my eye and smirked. “Welcome to the madhouse.”
We filed out, and I smacked my palm against the stencil of the team logo with the rest of them. For the first time, I actually felt like a part of the Fusion.
The roar of the crowd hit me like a wall when we stepped onto the ice. The arena was alive, a sea of turquoise jerseys rippling in the stands. I drew in a breath, the cold air sharp in my lungs.
But even as I took my position on the ice, my thoughts kept drifting to those photos, to Lila, to the shitshow waiting for me after the game.
The first rush from the other team caught me off guard, a blur of jerseys and sticks. For a second it felt like I was watching from the outside instead of playing in the thick of it.
I bounced between moments of brilliance and stupid mistakes. I intercepted a pass and pushed it to Dex, only to turn and collide with a prospect hard enough to send us both sprawling.
On my next shift, I fumbled a pass from Brody. The puck skittered free like it had a grudge. Cursing under my breath, I raced after it, but the opposing team’s forward was quicker. He snagged it and shot it into the back of our net.
“Shake it off, Mason!” Roman slapped my shoulder as we reset. “We’ll get it back.”
I blew out a breath through my nose and gritted my teeth. But as the game wore on, my performance didn’t improve. Missed checks. Botched passes. Open lanes I should’ve seen. Chances sliding away.