Chapter 30
Lila
Ishifted in my seat, my fingers nervously smoothing the fabric of my Miami Fusion jersey.
Mason’s jersey, CALLAHAN stretched across my back like a billboard.
Three rows from the glass gave us a perfect view of some players already warming up, the scrape of skates echoing through the arena.
Beside me, Gideon scrolled through his phone, occasionally nudging me to show social media updates about tonight’s home opener.
Each new mention ratcheted my unease higher, and I prayed Mason’s private life stayed out of the spotlight.
“You okay, honey?” Gideon leaned in, barely audible over the din. “You look like you’re about to bolt faster than a shopaholic at a Gucci sample sale.”
I forced a smile, grateful for his attempt at humor. “I’m fine. Just nervous, I guess.” My eyes darted around the arena, half-expecting to spot paparazzi lurking behind every corner. “I’m worried about being recognized. I feel like everyone’s watching.”
Gideon rested a hand on my arm, reassuring. “Sweetie, trust me, hockey fans are insane. They’re here for the puck, not you.”
“I hope so,” I muttered, sinking lower in my seat.
The arena buzzed with energy around us: fans decked out in team colors, vendors hawking overpriced beers, children waving foam fingers almost as big as themselves.
This was Mason’s big night, his first home game with the Fusion, and I wanted to be excited for him.
Normally, I’d have been swept up in the excitement, but tonight I was braced, counting the seconds until something went wrong.
A group of businessmen in the front row ahead turned to look at me for the third time in ten minutes. One leaned over to whisper something to his friend, their gazes sliding back to me. Did they know who I was, or was I imagining things?
I glanced at Gideon to see if he noticed anything, but he was busy scrolling through his phone with one hand and adjusting his Fusion scarf with the other. He caught my eye and gave me a flamboyant thumbs-up.
A cheer swelled around me as the Miami Fusion took the rink, their energy unmistakable as skates rasped against the ice.
“Warm-up skate,” Gideon informed me.
Mason was impossible to miss, number 13, his powerful frame gliding across the rink with effortless grace.
He was a force out there, all muscle and precision, like he had all that strength on a short leash.
His dark hair peeked out from beneath his helmet, and even from here, I could see the intense focus in his stance.
“Girl, you’ve got it bad,” Gideon said, nudging me with his elbow. “You’ve been tracking him like you’re on payroll.”
“Yeah. He looks unfairly good out there.”
As if on cue, Mason broke from the pack, circling toward our section.
My pulse jumped as he approached the glass, his eyes scanning the crowd until they locked with mine.
He lifted his stick and gave a subtle nod of acknowledgment, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that half-smile that always got past my defenses.
For a second, everything in me lit up. I forgot all my fears.
There was just Mason, the quiet, intense man who’d stumbled into my life and upended it completely.
I managed a smile for him, hoping it would show him my support and that I believed in him, even if I didn’t understand half of what was happening on the ice.
“See that?” Gideon whispered, his perfectly styled blonde hair swooping forward as he leaned close. “He never acknowledges the crowd during warmups. Never. He’s usually too in the zone.”
“Maybe he was looking at someone else,” I suggested, even as something warm settled inside me.
Gideon rolled his eyes with theatrical commitment. “Please. He’s got it just as bad as you do. Do you know what a big deal it is that you’re here? He’s never had a girlfriend at a game cheering for him.”
I tracked Mason as he passed the puck back and forth with his teammates. “Hockey is important to him. I want to support that.”
“Well, you being here means the world to him. I’m really glad you decided to come, Lila.”
A smile tugged at my lips, but it faded as I caught sight of a group of teenage girls over Gideon’s shoulder, a few rows up.
They were staring at me, whispering excitedly.
One lifted her phone in my direction before ducking down with a giggle.
The familiar dread crept up my spine, the same feeling that had haunted me since that pageant disaster five years ago.
And now, dating Mason had pushed me directly under the brightest lights imaginable.
As the buzzer sounded again, the players began to clear off the ice. I focused on Mason, catching a moment of connection when he turned his head to find me in the stands. I lifted my hand in a discreet wave, my breath hitching as Mason flashed a quick smile back before disappearing into the tunnel.
“Oh my god, are you Mason Callahan’s girlfriend?” a high-pitched voice squealed behind me.
I turned to see a group of girls, no older than fourteen, their faces glowing with excitement. They were decked out in Miami Fusion gear and sparkly face paint, giggling and nudging each other as they stared at me. I stiffened, fighting the urge to make myself small.
“Oh, um, I’m just a fan.” I kept my tone light, willing them to lose interest and move on.
“We saw him wave at you!” the girl with the high blonde ponytail chimed in.
“Yeah, and we saw those pictures of you two!” Another girl was busy consulting her phone. “It’s totally all over social media!”
Please, please, just go away.
“Really, we’re just friends.” I forced a smile that felt wrong. “I’m here to support the team, that’s all.”
“Wait,” the first girl piped up, giddy with excitement. “You’re the dominatrix designer, right? I saw that crazy room you did for Mason! It’s all over TikTok!”
Gideon leaned in, a smirk on his face. “Sweeties, I think your parents might be looking for you. The game is about to start.”
“Can we at least get a selfie?” one of the bolder girls asked, already pulling out her phone.
“I don’t think—”
Gideon shifted beside me. “Maybe another time, ladies. Lila is here to enjoy the game, just like you.”
Their faces fell, but they nodded and retreated, heads bent together in fervent whispers. I swore I heard one of them whisper Lila Prescott.
“Thank you,” I murmured to Gideon.
He gave me a little shoulder bump. “All part of the service, honey. Though you should practice your poker face if you’re going to keep dating our star defenseman.”
The arena lights dimmed, and a spotlight hit center ice as the announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, sending the crowd into a frenzy. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to your Miami Fusion home opener!”
The crowd roared as the opening ceremony began with the national anthem, player introductions, and a dazzling light show that transformed the ice into a sea of moving colors. The Miami Fusion logo appeared, spinning and morphing as flames erupted from the perimeter.
When Mason’s name was announced, the response was deafening. He skated out, powerful and focused, acknowledging the fans with a raised stick. For a moment, I let myself feel the thrill of seeing him out there, even with the earlier dread still lingering.
Once the game started, I found myself swept up in the action, even if I didn’t understand most of it.
Growing up in Alabama, ice hockey wasn’t exactly on my radar, but even I could recognize Mason’s talent.
He played with controlled aggression, his defensive skills on full display.
Every time he touched the puck or slammed an opponent into the boards, Gideon and I cheered.
During those moments, I forgot about my fears, lost in the thrill of the game.
Reality slammed back into place during the first intermission.
“There she is!” The voice came from my left, the teenage girls from earlier, now with two more friends in tow. “That’s Mason’s girlfriend!”
I went still, my water bottle creaking in my grip. The girls crowded around us, their excitement buzzing.
“We were telling them about the sex dungeon,” the shorter girl from before explained, like we were all friends swapping gossip. “Is it true he has, like, whips and stuff? That’s so hot.”
“Or one of those spinning sex wheels?” another asked, her eyes shining with inappropriate curiosity.
“That’s not—” I started, but she barreled right over me.
“Yeah, we heard he’s into some kinky stuff.” The tallest girl leaned in, conspiratorial. “Do you have to call him ‘Sir’ in the bedroom?”
My brain stalled on the word sir, like it could make this less real. How did girls that young even know about that kind of thing?
“Girls,” Gideon cut in, the word sharpened in a way I’d never heard from him. “That’s completely inappropriate.”
The girls giggled, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “I bet she does,” a curly-haired brunette snickered. “I bet she’s his little submissive plaything.”
“Yeah,” another girl chortled, “I can totally see her in a collar and leash, crawling around on all fours.”
I could feel myself slipping.
Their laughter carried, and attention turned our way. Phones went up. People craned to figure out what the commotion was about.
Gideon stood, his usual flamboyance gone, replaced with surprising authority. “That’s enough. You’re being incredibly rude.”
“We’re just asking questions,” the shortest girl protested, though she had the decency to look slightly ashamed.
“You’re harassing her with inappropriate speculation, and it stops now.” Gideon’s tone remained firm. “Please return to your seats, or I’ll get security.”
The girls retreated in a huff, but not before the tallest one muttered, “So stuck up. It’s not like she’s anything special.”
I slumped in my seat, the arena suddenly too packed, too loud. More heads turned our way, whispers jumping from row to row. A man a few rows up typed furiously on his phone while glancing back at me.