Page 89 of Penalty Box
It didn’t go down that way.
“Okay, enough about me,” I said, poking at my French toast with absolutely no appetite. “We’re veering way off course.”
Josie turned to face me fully, and doubled down. “The only course is the one where you tell us— Are you in love with him?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, and promptly stuffed a huge square of toast into my mouth. It was the best way I knew how to be exempt from talking.
“She didn’t say it mattered,” Sharon pressed. “Just asked if it’s the case.”
I sighed, chewing slowly as my gaze shifted between them. This was like a real-life version of what my sleepless nights had been like lately. Going back and forth about what it was I truly felt for Mason.
It took some effort to get the toast down past the lump in my throat. “Fine. Yeah. You happy? I think I’m in love with him.”
Satisfied, Josie softened. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
Maybe not, but it was jarring to hear the words out loud. From my own mouth.
“It’s a useless truth,” I said, feeling more capable of talking now that it was over. “He’s doing great. Probably better without me, if the last few games are anything to go by.”
It sucked to admit, even inwardly to myself, but this brunch was turning out to be pretty cathartic. That numb weight on my chest wasn’t there anymore. After weeks of feeling empty, it had disappeared. Just like that.
“Dating Grayson has taught me one thing,” Josie began, tapping the side of her plate with her fork. “The game is a thing all its own. What we see has nothing to do with what they’re feeling. Most of the time, it’s the opposite.”
I knew what she was trying to do, but it felt like too much had passed for there to be a change. “Mason and I were doomed from the start. His career is just taking off, and it’s a sure bet. He’s talented, skilled. There’s no doubt he’ll be one of the greats someday. I can’t expect him to jeopardize that for something that may or not work out. Especially if it pisses off his coach.”
“You’re a garbage liar,” Sharon quipped, and took a sip of her tea. “I can see that you care more than you’re letting on. You should talk to him.”
“We talked. I told you.”
“No,” Josie jumped in to clarify. “She means you should tell him how you feel, and let him decide if it’s worth throwing away. I think he’ll surprise you.”
I didn’t expect the weight in my chest to stay gone. I figured it would sneak back in the moment I stepped outside, like humidity on a muggy Texas day. But as I walked to my car, tossing the keys in my hand, it was notably absent.
Maybe Josie was onto something. Maybe I was lying to myself more than anyone else.
The roads were quiet for once, and I let my windows down halfway for the warm air to whip through the car. A song came on the radio—a sweet country tune talking about what it’s like when hearts fall apart. It was no effort for my brain to wade through the mess in my head and grab hold of Mason. And in case I didn’t get the hint, just as his stupid smile floated into my mind’s eye, the Frost Bank Center came up on the right.
The lot was mostly empty, however there was no mistaking that busted Neon parked in the player’s lot. Because, of course that’s where he was. Probably early for a solo practice session before the game.
I slowed down, but passed it. Drove straight by, like any rational person would. Then I hit the next intersection, and instead of going through, I jerked the wheel into a tight U-turn that made the tires scream.
It wasn’t bravery, just momentum. Josie’s voice still buzzed in my ears.
Let him decide.
I pulled in next to his car and killed the engine. The stillness settled over me fast. I didn’t know what I was walking into, but got out of my car anyway.
Inside the arena, the air was colder than usual, like the system hadn’t kicked into full gear yet. I hadn’t been there in a while, and it felt as though the rink was complaining about it.
I spotted Mason before I reached the railing.
He was out there alone, no helmet, taking shots against the board as if he was at war with himself. Each strike was harder than the last, echoing around the hollow arena like cannon fire.
I hurried through to grab my skates and made my way back to the rink. If he could impose on my alone time, then I could do the same. I booted up, and managed to take to the ice without him noticing. He just kept winding up and hammering pucks into the boards, over and over.
“Careful that you don’t break it,” I said, skating up to him.
His shoulders sagged when he saw it was me. “Haven’t seen you around here in a while.”
