Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“That is exactly what I want to do. This drink is helping, though.”
I wanted to kiss him so badly. Truthfully I also wanted to drive right back to his house and spend the rest of the evening in bed with him, but I wasn’t going to let another repeat of last time happen.
I didn’t want a secret life with Mason.
I wanted us to be able to do this. To go anywhere with each other, to raise a middle finger to anyone who tried to tell us we shouldn’t be around each other.
But the moment Kane walked back over and stepped behind the bar, I found myself sitting up a little straighter, too, trying to put on an innocent little act for him.
“Hey, J,” Kane said, reaching out for a fist bump. “Hot Mess, no keg stands or table stands or whatever the hell they are tonight. Just got the tables resealed and I don’t need you slipping and falling on your ass.”
“No keg stands planned for tonight, don’t worry,” Mason said.
“Game went well yesterday?” Kane asked me, loading pint glasses into a tray to be cleaned off.
I groaned. “The game went well, but I almost got in a fight.”
“Wait, you didn’t mention that,” Mason said gently.
“Jesse never talks about fights he has on the ice,” Kane explained. “Don’t be surprised.”
Well, I’d tell Mason anything, though.
In fact, the only person I’d wanted to talk to after yesterday’s game was Mason. It was part of what pushed me to finally go see him today.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” I said. “But Elliot was up in my grill about me stealing a hat trick from him, which is bullshit. He couldn’t have gotten a hat trick.”
“What’s a hat trick?” Mason asked.
“You don’t know what a hat trick is?” Kane said.
“Sounds like something a magician might do.”
I smiled and suppressed an urge to kiss him. “If someone scores three points in a game, that’s a hat trick. Everyone in the audience tosses their hats onto the ice, people go nuts, it’s a lot of fun.”
“And Elliot thought you prevented him from getting one?”
I nodded. “He got the first two shots, and he says I gave him a bad pass and cost him the third. But if I didn’t move, he would have given up the puck to the other team, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.”
“Prick,” Kane muttered.
“Tell me about it. He’s pissed at me. What else is new?”
“Jesse’s like a fucking bloodhound on the ice,” Mason was saying, shaking his head. “Forget the Plow, he’s like a tsunami.”
“Did you show him a clip, J?”
Mason shifted on his seat. “Um, well, no. I went to check out one of the games, actually.”
My heart.
Mason was trying, for me.
Actually trying to make it seem like we were at least friendly with one another. And that was the sweetest thing I could imagine, right now.
Kane set down the pint glass he was holding and draped his rag over his shoulder. “You went to a hockey game?”
I could tell Mason was squirming.
He’d let something slip, and now he was completely convinced Kane was going to find out the truth. If I was like a bloodhound on the ice, Kane was like a bloodhound for bullshit—he could spot it from a mile away.
“I do all sorts of things,” Mason protested.
Just tell him.
Can we just tell him, pretty please?
I felt like there was a little war inside of me, brewing fast.
“You don’t usually do things that involve you sitting still in a seat for a couple of hours,” Kane said. “I’m impressed, Mason.”
“I didn’t exactly sit still. I stood up and cheered for Jesse, even when I didn’t know what he was doing. I think I cheered once accidentally when the only thing that happened was a ref blowing a whistle.”
As they chatted, my leg was bouncing like a pogo stick on the ledge under the bar.
I felt like I was two seconds away from blurting out the truth: I want him, and I don’t give a fuck if you’re going to judge us for it.
But I was like a muzzled tiger. It had been my own idea to slowly get my brother used to the idea of us hanging out, but even when Mason mentioned attending a hockey game, it felt like watching a ticking time bomb.
“What did you get up to today?” Kane asked him.
“Not much. Drove back from Atlanta. Rode Maisie around the long path a few times. Showered and headed here.”
I didn’t know what felt worse: the idea of Kane finding out or the idea of him not finding out.
All I knew was that this conversation was hard to take. All casual, calm, and surface-level, making me feel like I was yet again holding in a lie.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, and I stood up too quickly. “Just… want a little air.”