10. Mason #2
Erik fished out the last puck from under the lockers and popped up. Hands on his sides, he stared at the floor and shook his head as if bits of concrete or tile were jumping out to trip him. “These floors are treacherous. Oh, the cuts, like when they were all bandaged up again a little while ago?”
“And they’re fine now. Had a fall. You understand that, Erik.” I tugged my pads off.
Calder grabbed Erik by the collar and tugged him and their two duffels toward the locker room door.
I tossed my soaking wet gear into my bag.
Galen closed his locker and fished his coin out of his pocket, ran a finger over the smooth face. “What was it like meeting Dane Larson?”
My head snapped up. “How did you—”
He smirked. “Didn’t until just then.” Damn psychic. “He was at an event my parents hosted last night and mentioned maybe stopping by to talk to you. Not me, but I’m not even bitter about it.”
“You already signed with a school.”
“Still doesn’t hurt to be wanted.”
I rolled my eyes. “He let me know he’s at Seattle now and wanted to know if I might be interested.”
“Are you?”
There was a temptation to change the path I’d been set on.
To not have to follow in Bair’s and our father’s footsteps.
To not feel like if I did something he didn’t like, I’d be erased from my father’s world the same way he’d been missing for the first seven years of my life. “I’m going to Rhode Island.”
“Your dad wants you to go to Rhode Island.”
“And that’s all that matters.”
Galen made a noncommittal sound and a sigh. “I’m heading out.”
The locker room quieted down and I was left replaying my time on the ice with Dane Larson.
I massaged my fingers, checking for any sore spots.
Other than the tender skin on my knuckles, they were mostly back to normal.
They were quicker to fatigue and tighten up, so I needed to work on that, but otherwise, the season was kicking off like every other.
So why did it feel like everything was off-kilter again, like trying to play with my left?
After showering, I walked through the school instead of going straight to my car. I told myself it was because I needed to get a book from my locker, but I couldn’t make myself believe the lie.
When I got to the sewing room and the lights were off, a pang of disappointment pricked my chest. But as I stepped away from the door, the clatter of metal stopped me in my tracks.
I tried the door handle. Unlocked, it opened into the dark room.
The light from a single sewing machine glowed in the darkness.
Lilah sat up straight in her chair and put a pair of scissors back on the sewing table.
“Why are you here in the dark?”
She kept working like I wasn’t even there.
I stepped farther into the room, less than three feet away from her.
“Lilah?”
She yelped, almost toppling out of her chair.
I caught her arm, keeping her off the floor.
She jumped back as if my touch were acid and yanked her headphones off. Hands clutched at the front of her chest, then she squinted. “Mason? What the hell are you doing here?”
“I get a ‘hell’? Potty mouth, Lilah.”
With a thick swallow and stuttering breaths, she sank back against her chair. “You scared me.”
I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “I figured.”
This close to her, it was hard to remember I was supposed to hate her. Hard to remember that she never actually cared about me. But now it all felt silly and the excuses I clung to fell away. Anger was easier than hurt. I just wanted her to be okay.
She shoved her headphones into her backpack. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing in the sewing room in the dark?”
“Sewing in the dark. Why are you here so late?”
“Practice is over. And I thought I saw someone up here.”
“With the lights out?
“I have excellent eyesight. Is your head hurting? Concussion headaches suck.”
She sighed. “A full day under the fluorescent lights wasn’t the best, so it was easier to leave them off while I finished this.” She gestured to the hem of a Hawthorne Prep uniform.
“That yours?”
There was a half second of hesitation before she answered. “No, I do alterations for some of the girls sometimes, or the secondhand shop, and they give me cash for it.”
I thought back to the two who’d bitched her out in the hallway.
“Finished with this one though.” She shook out the skirt before folding it and putting it into a bag.
“All done? I could—”
“Not with my work, only with that one. Business has picked up a little bit since I got back.” She glanced at me sideways like I had something to do with it. “At the beginning of the year…” She shrugged.
No one wanted to pay her to do it because of me.
I thought about how Lilah slept on a fucking pullout couch in the living room in her house. Never came to the dining hall and wore secondhand uniforms.
She needed that money and I’d deprived her of it. A part of me should’ve been satisfied, but all I felt was sick to my stomach.
“I can wait around if you need a ride.”
“No, I’ll be okay. You’ve got to be tired after practice. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got this.” She flashed a smile, the first real one I’d gotten from her in months, and it short-circuited my brain. I’d wait for three more hours if she’d let me.
“See you tomorrow then. I’ll be here during lunch.”
“Okay, see you then. Night, Mason.”
I’d been dismissed and wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I wanted to stay, but what excuse did I even have? Since when was I finding excuses to be around Lilah?
Since I’d signed up for the independent study.
Since I’d fought to become her homework mule.
Since I’d stopped a woman leaving the bookstore and offered her ten times the cover price for the sold-out, newly released copy of the book Lilah’d been looking forward to reading, so I could send her nightly voice notes.
The same one I could’ve left on her doorstep but read to her for only the satisfaction of the little read notification.
I left Lilah in the sewing room and sat in my car with my finger hovering over the ignition button.
Minutes ticked by and the urge to return to the building got stronger with each passing second.
It was too late for her to walk home. I shouldn’t have given her a choice, but my damn pride was a prickly sonofabitch and refused to beg her.
So, like a coward, still worried Lilah might be too tired or fall again, I waited. Then after thirty minutes, I got out of my car to ask her again, or better yet, demand she go with me.
But the sewing room was closed and locked.
I’d catch her on the walk home, if she’d made it off campus.
I hit the parking lot, not many cars left this late at night.
Lilah walked across the lot, and I raised my hand to shout out to her, when someone else called her name.
She rushed toward the figure. Without seeing him, I knew who it was. Blistering rage flashed across my brain.
Rye leaned against his car, waiting for her.
He slid the backpack off her shoulder, lifted her off the ground and set her back down.
She was all grinning and bouncing when he opened the door for her.
And just like that, I was snapped back to the reality of the whole situation.
She’d listened to my voice notes, taken the homework I’d dropped off on her doorstep, and then run straight back to her boyfriend.
I should tell him about our nights in the pool house. Fuck with his head half as much as she’d fucked with mine. But part of me didn’t want to hear his laughter ringing in my head when he parroted back all the things Lilah had told him.
My ribs crushed with burning humiliation that I’d been thinking about her, had put out the edict to leave Lilah alone, and she continued to not be affected by me at all. Her painful mind game continued.