Chapter 29
Mason
My new teammates were loud, loose, and already chirping over pregame meals, nothing like the locked-down intensity I was used to in Toronto.
I shoveled chicken and steamed veggies into my mouth on autopilot, barely hearing any of it.
Today mattered. First home game with the Fusion, first real chance to win over the crowd.
Normally I’d be locked in, mentally preparing, running plays through my head. But all I could think about was Lila.
Yesterday I’d left her apartment wrecked, every step heavier than it had any right to be.
The idea she was shutting me out for good sat heavy in my chest. I’d been walking around shell-shocked all day, but just when I thought we were over, she texted, “I’ll be there tonight.
” Those four simple words, after a full day of silence, did more than any pep talk could.
That message took the edge off, pushing aside the uncertainty and confusion clouding everything. Knowing Lila would be in the stands, cheering me on, gave me something to hold onto. Tonight, after the game, I was determined to talk to her. We were going to fix this.
My phone buzzed, Gideon’s name flashing on the screen. I swiped to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hey, Gid.”
“Hey, wanted to wish you good luck tonight,” Gideon’s chipper voice rang out. “You’re gonna crush it.”
I managed a small smile, grateful for the distraction. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”
“So, you ready to dazzle Miami with those moves of yours? I’ve got my ‘Go Mason’ sign all bedazzled and everything.”
I snorted, picturing Gideon waving around some glittery monstrosity. His enthusiasm worked on me, even if I’d never admit it to him. “I can’t wait to see that masterpiece. Just hope it doesn’t distract me on the ice. I need all my focus tonight.”
“I’ve got a good feeling. Don’t make me look stupid in front of my glitter sign. I’ve got a reputation to protect.”
“Thanks, Gid.” I paused, then couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Have you heard from Lila? She said she’d be at the game, but I haven’t talked to her since...”
The words hung there, incomplete.
“Yeah, I’ve talked to her. She’ll be there. Don’t worry.” Gideon’s voice softened, the teasing edge gone.
Some of the pressure let up. “Do you know anything about what’s going on with her?”
The line went quiet for a second too long. My grip tightened around the phone.
“I don’t know, man.” Gideon finally answered, his voice careful. “I can tell there’s something else going on with her, something more than the whole ‘sex dungeon’ designer thing that’s been blowing up online.”
“What do you mean, ‘something else’?” I pressed, standing up from the table and walking a few steps away from my teammates. “Is it about me?”
“No, not directly. Just a vibe I’m getting. Look, I don’t want to speculate. All I know is she’s dealing with some personal stuff.”
“Personal stuff,” I repeated flatly. “That’s helpful.”
I could almost hear Gideon’s eye roll through the phone. “Don’t stress over it too much. She said she’s gonna be there tonight, so forget it for now. You need your head in the game, Mase. Focus on that.”
My thoughts were a jumbled mess, all of it circling back to Lila, but Gid was right. I needed to compartmentalize, to shove all this shit with Lila into a box and duct tape it shut until after the game. Easier said than done.
I rubbed my free hand over my face. “Yeah. Okay.”
After a quick thanks, I ended the call and took a deep breath. Gideon always took the pressure down a notch, but his comment stuck with me. There was something deeper going on with Lila, something beyond the whole ’sex dungeon’ designer fiasco.
I sat back down and forced myself to take a few more bites. The dining area began to empty out, players rising from their tables and heading toward the locker room, the atmosphere humming as everyone shifted into pregame mode.
“Hey, you coming or what?” Sawyer nudged my elbow as he stood.
“Yeah, just a sec,” I muttered, shoving my phone in my pocket.
I followed Sawyer out, giving myself a mental pep talk. I had a job to do, and I was going to do it right. For the team, for the fans, and for myself. This was my chance to prove I belonged here in Miami, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to waste it.
Time to get to work.
The familiar chaos of the locker room enveloped me, the sharp scent of sweat and leather, the clatter of sticks and pads. Around me, my teammates were in various stages of getting ready, the usual pregame chatter and laughter bouncing off the walls.
Sawyer put in his earbuds, blasting his pregame playlist and spreading out his gear around him like a sacred altar. Two stalls down, King was meticulously taping his stick, while Roman did a shot of his disgusting beet juice across from me.
I cracked a grin at their antics. For the first time, it didn’t feel like I was borrowing a jersey. These were my brothers now. My team. Tonight, we were going to show Miami what we were made of.
As I started pulling out my gear, my brain did what it had been doing all day.
It went straight to Lila, like she was the priority now and everything else could go to hell.
I thought about our first date. Her showing me Miami like she was giving me the city’s official tour.
The mariachi band that ambushed us at dinner.
The look on her face when they started circling, and the way she tried to hide her smile while they robbed me in public.
It had been easy with her. Not “easy” like a hookup. Easy like breathing. Like I wasn’t working for every second of it.
And now she’d gone quiet on me, bracing for impact. I just had to figure out how to get her to meet me halfway without making her shut down for good.
The entire room broke into cheers. Cade, in his underpants, took a bow. My mind had been miles away, wrapped up in thoughts of golden hair and that stubborn mouth, and I’d missed whatever the hell he’d done this time.
A sudden hit of clarity caught me right in the numbers.
Lila mattered. Not because she was gorgeous, or because the sex had rewired my brain, though yeah. That too. But it was deeper than that. The kind of deep that made me feel off balance, like I’d stepped onto ice that didn’t have boards.
I wanted the parts of her she kept locked up. What made her laugh for real. What made her go quiet. What she did when she thought no one was watching. I wanted to be the guy she called when things went sideways, not the one she pushed away.
When the hell did that happen? When had she become more than the gorgeous blonde I’d walked in on rolling around in my bed?
I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. For years, hockey had been everything, my purpose, my identity. Relationships were temporary distractions at best. With the constant travel, the pressure, the physicality of the game, I’d never found it worth the effort to maintain anything real.
But now, standing in the Miami Fusion locker room before my first home game with my new team, all I could think about was Lila.
The depth of it startled me, but I couldn’t deny it was there.
Was I in love with her?
Me, Mason Callahan. The guy who kept things surface-level and short-term because hockey came first. Always.
Was it possible?
I sat down on the bench and let the truth land.
I was falling for her. Hard and fast, no brakes in sight.
“Hey, Callahan, you with us?” King’s voice cut through my haze. He stood in front of me, geared up and ready.
“Just getting in the zone,” I muttered, pulling the jersey I’d been holding over my head.
“You planning on wearing your jersey backwards or what?”
I blinked, realizing I’d been slipping it over my pads the wrong way. “Shit.”
He snorted and tossed a roll of tape at my head. I caught it easily, grateful for the distraction.
I laced up my skates quickly, my mind clearer now, my attention sharper. I was ready to fight for Lila, and I was going to leave it all on the ice tonight.
Hockey first. Then Lila. Both mattered. Both deserved my full attention.
We filed out of the room toward the tunnel for pregame skate.
The roar of the crowd pulsed through the concrete walls.
Adrenaline hit hard as we approached the mouth of the tunnel.
The team logo glowed on the wall, a stylized turquoise-and-orange flame that cast shadows across our faces.
One by one, my teammates tapped it as they passed, another superstition in a sport riddled with them.
I followed suit without thinking, the routine so ingrained I could have done it in my sleep.
Then we were out, bursting onto the ice in a rush of speed and sound.
The crowd erupted, their cheers washing over us in waves.
The cool air hit my face, a welcome relief after the stuffy confines of the locker room.
Under my skates, the fresh ice gave just enough to bite as I pushed off and joined the warm-up drills.
But my head wasn’t on the ice or the drills or even the game ahead. My eyes scanned the stands, searching for one face among thousands.
The arena was a sea of turquoise and black, fans decked out in Fusion gear from head to toe. The Jumbotron overhead flashed player stats and crowd shots, switching rapidly between angles that captured the pregame buzz.
I went through the motions of warmups, muscle memory covering for my distracted brain. Skating drills. Passing. Meanwhile, my gaze kept snapping to the section where Lila should be sitting.
Had she changed her mind? The thought sent a jolt of something uncomfortably close to panic through me. I missed a pass, the puck skittering off my stick and across the ice. Roman shot me a look, brows lifting. I wasn’t known for sloppy play, especially not during warmups.
Get it together, Callahan.
Fans were still pouring into their seats, so there was no need to freak out yet.
One more lap around the rink. One more chance to scan that section.
Then I saw her.
There, a few rows back, sitting next to Gideon, her blonde hair catching under the arena lights. My pulse jumped, sharp and stupid, and it wasn’t hockey adrenaline. She was here. She’d kept her promise.
As if sensing my stare, Lila looked up, her eyes finding mine across the distance. The noise and color kept roaring around us, but my attention tunneled until it was just her.
I gave her a small nod. Yeah. I see you. Please don’t bail. Her mouth curved, subtle and warm, and the knot in my gut loosened.
She’d come. Whatever she was carrying, whatever was happening between us, she showed up.
“Callahan, you planning on joining us anytime soon?” Sawyer skated by, smirking. “Or are you gonna stand there like a lovesick puppy all night?”
I flipped him off, but there was no bite behind it. “Just taking in the view, asshole.”
I pushed off again, rejoining the warm-up with renewed focus. Each stride felt stronger, each pass cleaner. Something extra had kicked in, a steady charge under my skin. I felt good. Better than good. I was ready.
The buzzer sounded, ending warmups. We gathered the pucks, tapping them to the trainers waiting at the bench, then filed off the ice for final prep. I let myself take one last look at Lila before disappearing down the tunnel.
She was still watching. When our eyes met again, she lifted her hand in a small wave. The simplest gesture, and yet it grounded me.
Back in the locker room, Coach barked out a few last words before King pulled us into the traditional pregame huddle.
“First home game, boys,” King growled, voice low and hard. “Let’s show these fans what the Fusion is all about this season. Leave it all on the ice. Every shift, every play, every hit. All in.”
“All in!” we echoed, the energy snapping through the circle.