Page 70 of Code Violation

We both stare at my cell before I pick it up and hit the notification from Vesper.

Knockout

Hey, so are you at home?

Me

I am.

Knockout

Can I stop by before my shift?

Me

Sure. I have Mason here.

Knockout

No worries. I can come over later if that’s okay.

“I don’t need you to tell me who that is, by the way.” Mason juts his chin at my phone. “You are a man down, buddy. A man down.”

I force back an eye roll. “It’s Vesper.”

He feigns shock.

I point at his bowl. “Do you want to finish the rest of that risotto or wear it?”

“Actually”—he winces—“I kind of need to leave. I promised Mom I’d head over and fix her washing machine, and then I got a little sidetracked at the prospect of having dinner with my captain. Microwave meals for one are really starting to suck ass.”

I smirk at him. “You see? You’re good at DIY and fixing things, and I’m not bad in the kitchen.”

Mason deflates again. “Yeah, I am. I swore I’d do stuff around the house for Eloise, but I never got around to it. She kept saying that she’d hire someone, but I was too fucking stubborn to let that happen.”

“You need to stop punishing yourself for stuff you can’t change. We have no control over the past.”

He nods, although I’m not sure my words have resonated with him.

“You don’t need to worry about me or my performance on the ice. I won’t let you or the team down.”

I want to believe Mason—truly, I do. But this is as far as our conversation can go tonight. I’ve said my piece, and he’s aware of the eyes on him. Ultimately, it’s up to my defenseman to straighten himself out and ask for help where he needs it.

We exchange an understanding glance before Mason gets back to his food, and I shoot a quick response to Vesper.

Me

No, it absolutely is not okay. Come over now. Mason is about to leave.

Knockout

Okay, give me ten minutes, and I’ll be there.

Ten minutes later, I’ve said goodbye to Mason, and I’ve got a beautiful woman standing in front of me in my living area, dressed in an outfit to fucking die for.

She’s wearing the same knee-length black leather boots she wore the night we first had sex, and a thick black sweater, tucked into the waistband of a dark purple miniskirt. I want to bite down on my fist and scold her for teasing me like this.

“Okay”—Vesper takes my hand and leads me over to the couch—“you probably need to be sitting down for this.”