“Don’t worry about it. I was just heading over to the bar—” Someone shouts Carlos’ name and I look up and see the group of guys he came in with playing pool. “I should probably get back to my friends. I’ll see you later Violet.”
Mason slides into Carlos’s seat taking a big sip of his drink. “So, what did I miss?”
twenty-six
. . .
Violet
For a momentit feels like we’re all teenagers again. The only thing missing is Monroe. A big part of me wishes she could be here right now, if only just to help balance out the testosterone.
“Dude, I can’t lie. It felt kinda weird being back in that arena. Like I was walking into a time capsule.” Mikey takes a swig of his beer before continuing. “Does it feel weird coaching in the same place you used to play for?”
“It was definitely an out-of-body experience at first. And honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever fully get used to it. There are moments when I still feel like I should be the one on the ice, and not even because I want to play, but because that’s all I’ve known.”
“I’m sure you want to go out there and show ‘em how it’s really done. You say the word and I can call up Bradon and see if he’s down for some 3 on 3,” Mikey jokes.
Mason rolls his eyes. “Between my busted head and the fact that neither you nor Bradon have played in years, I don’t like our odds.”
“What are you talking about? We can take these Westchester kids. Bradon and I are in a beer league now so we’re ready whenever you are.”
“No way. Since when are you two playing hockey again?”
“Mmm, I think we started the team maybe like six months ago? We’re looking for a coach if you want to pull double duty.”
“You guys would be a bigger pain in the ass to coach than my current players.”
Mikey smirks, taking another swig from his beer.
“I think you’re selling yourself short,” I interject. “Your players seem to respond to your coaching. I feel like every time you stepped up, their game got better.”
Mason looks sheepishly at his beer. “Thanks Vi.” Genuine compliments have always made Mason uncomfortable. And he’s so cute when he’s uncomfortable.
“That hit from #23 was dirty, though. I guess I can’t be too surprised given we were playing Boston College.”
Mason’s eyes widen as he sips his drink, nodding vehemently. “Yeah. It was super dangerous. If it wasn’t for Coach Jameson holding me back, I probably would’ve gone off on the refs.”
One of the things I’ve always loved about talking hockey with Mason that he never makes me feel inferior or like I didn’t know what I’m talking about. Some guys have such a complex when it comes to a woman sharing her opinion on the sport. But Mason always listens, even when we have different opinions.
“Whatever you couldn’t say to the refs, Violet certainly did.” Mikey winks at me.
Mason turns to me. “I thought I heard a ladylike, ‘Open your fucking eyes ref.’”
“No, you didn’t.”
“So, it was someone else who called the BC player a rat?”
I blink. Okay fine. Maybe those were my exact words. “How do you even know that was me?”
“Vi, even in a sea of people, I’ll always recognize your voice.” Dammit, I hate when he casually says something romantic. Fate also did seem to bring us together. That and Mason’s persistence. We could’ve spent the next however many years at Westchester ignoring each other’s existence, but Mason refused to have that.
“Eesh man, that was a little too cheesy for my taste. But comments like that bode well for my wallet.” Mikey throws a teasing wink in my direction. He either has a death wish or there is something in his eye.
Mason scrunches his eyebrows together. “Huh?”
“I was telling Vi—” I swiftly kick Mikey in the shin while innocently sipping my cider.
“Fuck wh—,” Mike catches my challenging gaze, “—would ya look at the time? I have a sex appointment with that blonde over there. See ya love birds.” Mikey jumps off the stool before I can shatter his other shin.
