Chapter 35 #2
I pictured Lila walking into that arena with her head up. Not bracing. Not scanning for phones. Just… there. If we could turn her worst moment into something that helped people, maybe it wouldn’t own her anymore.
“What do you need from me?”
“First, talk to Lila. Make sure she’s comfortable with the concept. I won’t move forward without her okay.” Sutton grabbed a notebook and started scribbling. “Second, I need you to rally some of the guys. It’ll land harder if the whole team buys in.”
“The guys will rally. Especially Dex. He loves any excuse to act like a clown.” A reluctant smile pulled at my mouth.
“Perfect. Third, I need you to be the public face of it.”
Public speaking wasn’t my thing. I let my play on the ice do the talking. But for Lila, for one real shot at her breathing easy in public again, I could figure it out.
“Yeah. I’ll do it.”
Sutton beamed at me. “I’ll start the proposal today. If Lila’s on board, I’ll push for the Seattle game.”
“So soon?” I let out a half laugh, impressed and skeptical at the same time. “You can pull all of that together that fast?”
“If I get the okay from management, I’ll get it done.”
I stood, feeling like I’d walked in carrying a boulder and was leaving with a plan. “Thanks, Sutton. I owe you one.”
“No problem.” She waved a hand. “If it helps, Vanessa’s already moved on.”
I stilled. “What do you mean?”
“She’s been posting with some guy back in Toronto. New dinners, new selfies, the whole soft-launch routine.” Sutton shrugged. “She’s not talking about you or Lila anymore.”
“Good. Let her be someone else’s headache.” I turned for the door.
“Hey, Mason?”
I paused. “Yeah?”
“For what it’s worth, I think it’s really good what you’re doing for her. Not every guy would go to bat like this.”
I shrugged, heat crawling up my neck. “It’s what she deserves.”
“Still,” she insisted. “It says a lot. About how you feel.”
I hesitated, then kept it simple. “Lila matters to me. I just want her to know she doesn’t have to face it alone.”
I left Sutton’s office with purpose, my mind already running scenarios. The Epic Fail Luck game night was a solid idea. Maybe even brilliant. But it hinged on one thing: getting Lila to say yes.
She hated that meme. She hated what it did to her. Asking her to lean into it, even for charity, was going to feel like asking her to step back onto that stage.
I needed a way in. And reinforcements.
The hallway outside the Fusion offices was quiet as I pulled out my phone and called the one person who understood Lila’s fear and her stubborn streak.
Gideon picked up on the second ring. “Please tell me you’re not in jail and need bail money.”
“Very funny.” I adjusted my grip on the phone as I walked briskly down the hall, past the offices. “I need your help with Lila.”
“Oh?” His tone shifted from joking to intrigued. “What’s Ms. Prescott done now? Did she insult your wardrobe choices? Because honestly, Mason, those track pants with that shirt—”
“Focus.” I cut him off before he could launch into one of his fashion tirades. “Sutton and I came up with an idea to help Lila with the whole Epic Fail situation.”
“Let me guess. It involves her confronting it head-on, which she’s been actively avoiding for years?”
I explained Sutton’s Epic Fail Luck idea, keeping my voice low as a couple of front-office staff walked past. “I need to convince Lila to get on board with it.”
The silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes.
“She’ll never go for it,” Gideon finally said. “Not in a million years.”
“That’s why I’m calling you. You’re good with people. I need you to convince her.”
Gideon’s laugh echoed through the phone. “Mase, she’s not exactly my biggest fan right now. Not after I broke my promise to her and told you about the video. She still gives me the evil eye.”
I dragged a hand down my face. “Shit. I forgot about that.”
“Besides, this isn’t about being ‘good with people.’ This is about understanding Lila. That meme has haunted her for years. It’s not just embarrassment. It’s trauma.”
His words hit home. I’d seen how the Epic Fail affected Lila, how she froze when she was recognized. But I also knew that running from it wasn’t working. “So what do you suggest?”
“You need to enlist someone she trusts. Someone whose opinion she values.” Gideon paused. “What about her boss? Samantha?”
“Sam?” I hesitated. “You think she’d help?”
“Lila adores Sam. And from what Lila’s told me, Sam’s pretty protective of her. If Sam thinks this is a good idea, Lila might actually listen.”
It wasn’t a bad plan. “Do you know how I can get in touch with her?”
“Better than that, I know where she lives.” The smugness in Gideon’s voice was palpable. “Remember that baby gift basket you sent last month? The one you signed the card for without actually reading it?”
“Vaguely.” I had a habit of signing whatever Gideon put in front of me, which had backfired spectacularly when I found myself committed to an underwear modeling gig.
“I sent it to Sam’s house. She’s been on bed rest for weeks with the twins. Driving her crazy, according to Lila.”
I pushed through the exit doors of the building and squinted against the Miami sunshine. “Give me the address.”
“I’ll text it to you. But listen, if you’re going over there, bring food. Pregnant women love food.”
“Food? Like what?” I asked impatiently, making my way through the parking lot.
“How should I know?” I heard the sound of typing in the background. “No alcohol, obviously. No caffeine. How about chocolate? Or pastries? Everyone loves a good pastry.”
I rolled my eyes. “Pastries, got it.”
“No, wait. Pickles!” he shouted in my ear. “It says here pregnant women love pickles.”
“Goodbye, Gideon.” I hung up before he could offer any more ridiculous advice.
Twenty minutes later, I stood on Sam’s doorstep with a box of pastries in hand. I knocked and waited, hearing what sounded like a war zone inside. Wailing cries. Maybe something crashing.
I pressed the doorbell. Waited some more. Then pressed it again.
“Coming!” a frazzled voice shouted from inside. “For the love of God, stop ringing!”
The door swung open to reveal a woman with wild curls, dark circles under her eyes, and a crusty white stain on her shoulder.
She swiped hair out of her face. “If you’re selling something, I will literally pay you to leave.”
“Samantha Wallace?”
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, then widened in recognition. “Holy shit. You’re Mason Callahan. What are you—” Her words cut off when a fresh round of shrieking erupted from inside the house. Not one cry, but two. Perfectly synchronized.
I nodded. “Sorry to show up unannounced. Gideon Pierce gave me your address. He thought you might be able to help me with—”
“Oh God, James is up again.” Her gaze dropped to the bakery box under my arm. “Are those pastries?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Then come in.” She grabbed my forearm and hauled me inside with surprising strength. “Eric ran out for more diapers an hour ago. These two are going through them like it’s a competition. We’re down to our last two.”
I stepped into chaos. The place looked expensive and put together, but it was buried under an avalanche of baby stuff. Blankets, bottles, and clothes covered every surface. A half-eaten sandwich sat abandoned on a side table, and at least three different baby swings occupied the living room.
“Sorry about the mess,” Sam said, though she didn’t sound sorry at all. “We just got home from the hospital a couple of days ago.”
“Congratulations. I didn’t mean to intrude—”
The crying from the other room hit a new level.
“Put those on the coffee table,” Sam instructed, pointing at the pastries. “I’ll be right back.”
I navigated an obstacle course of baby gear to the coffee table and set the bakery box down.
Sam returned moments later with two tiny, red-faced bundles, one in each arm. “They don’t like to be put down. Either of them. Ever.”
I hesitated, unsure what to do, until Sam thrust one of the babies toward me. “Take Olivia. Make sure to support her head.”
“I’ve never held a—”
“You’re a professional athlete with a multi-million dollar contract. I’m sure you can handle a six-pound baby.” She deposited Olivia in my arms and bounced the other one against her shoulder. “Just don’t drop her. She’s not a puck.”
I’d blocked shots with my face. This felt riskier.
“Uh…” I looked down at the tiny human.
Olivia blinked up at me, her wailing cutting off while she assessed the new giant holding her. Her face was scrunched and red, with a tuft of dark hair sticking straight up. I barely breathed, afraid I’d break her.
“Would you look at that,” Sam said, sounding both impressed and annoyed. “She stops for you. Figures.” She shifted the other baby in her arms. “This is James. He’s the loud one.”
As if to prove her point, James ramped up the volume again.
Sam bounced him gently, then looked at me with tired eyes. “Now, what was so important that brings Miami’s star hockey player to my humble disaster zone?”
I lowered myself onto the edge of a chair, still holding Olivia like she might shatter. “It’s about Lila.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “What about her? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. It’s about the Epic Fail thing.”
Sam’s expression hardened. “That bullshit still haunting her? She’s been through enough. I swear, the internet is a cesspool.”
Olivia picked that moment to unleash a sound that made no sense coming from something that small.
“Bounce a little,” Sam called over the noise. “And pat her back. She probably has gas.”
I started an awkward bouncing motion, feeling entirely out of my element. “So that’s why I’m here. I talked to Sutton in PR. We came up with a plan. Instead of letting that meme control Lila’s life, we want to turn it around. Make it positive.”
James’s face contorted, and he unleashed a howl that could shatter glass.
“Sorry.” Sam shifted him higher on her shoulder. “He’s got a set of lungs on him. Keep talking.”
“The idea is—”