Two

Mason’s POV

The dining hall was too large for the noise inside it. Yet somehow, it still wasn’t large enough for the argument.

My family had requested my presence, saying it was urgent, although I knew it was just a means to drag me here.

I stood near the table, my jacket still on, I hadn’t decided whether I was staying or leaving.

Across me, my father sat at the head chair.

My mother sat slightly to the side, her hands folded tightly, watching everything unfold like she was trying to hold the room together with silence.

While my younger brother, Adrian, stood instead of sitting.

That alone said everything.

And my younger sister, Isabella, sat halfway turned in her chair watching me.

My father spoke first. “You embarrassed this family again.”

I exhaled slowly. “Is that what was urgent that you couldn’t tell me over the phone?”

Adrian scoffed immediately.

“You always do this,” he snapped. “Walk in late, act like you own the place, then disappear when real responsibility is mentioned.”

I glanced at him. “I didn’t disappear,” I told him calmly. “I left to pursue my dream.”

“That’s the same thing!” Adrian shot back.

Our mother raised her hand slightly. “Please—can we not start like this?”

But no one listened.

My father began. “You think hockey is a career worth building an empire on?”

My jaw tightened. “It already is.”

A cold laugh from Adrian. “Sports?” he said. “You’re betting your entire life on sports?”

I turned slightly toward him. “I’m betting on myself,” U corrected his statement, already feeling pissed off by the conversation.

That made Adrian step forward. “Oh please,” he snapped. “You think running around on ice makes you independent?”

Isabella suddenly spoke up. “Adrian, stop it.”

All eyes turned to her. 

She didn’t flinch. “You’re just angry because he actually left and did something you’re too scared to try.”

Adrian’s expression hardened. “Stay out of this.”

“I am in this,” she shot back. “This is our family too.”

Our father slammed his hand lightly on the table. “Enough.” He looked at me.

“This is not a discussion,” he said slowly. “It is a correction.”

I tilted my head slightly. “A correction?” I repeated.

“Yes,” my father said. “You will step back from hockey and return to the company structure.”

I laughed loudly, not because I was amused but I was fed up with the constant pressure. “You’re still trying that?”

Adrian’s voice rose again. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re not just ruining your life, you’re weakening everything Father built.”

I turned fully toward Adrian. “Everything Father built,” I repeated slowly. “Or everything Father controlled?”

My mother finally stood. “Stop this,” she said, voice strained now. “All of you, please.”

But I didn’t look away, neither did Adrian. The tension between us was sharp.

Isabella stood up now. “Why is it always like this?” she complained, her voice shaking slightly. “Every time Mason tries to choose something for himself, it becomes a war.”

My father’s gaze shifted to her. “This is not your concern.”

“It is my concern!” she fired back. “He’s my brother!”

Adrian turned to her. “Then tell him he’s being selfish, you know it.”

Isabella looked at me. “You’re being selfish.” But then she looked away immediately.

That landed differently.

My expression changed slightly. “I know,” I muttered. “I know what you think, that I walked away from this family.”

My gaze flicked to my father, then I continued. “But the truth is—I walked away from being controlled.”

My father got riled up. “This family gave you everything.”

I nodded slightly. “Yes. And then expected me to give myself up in return.”

I father ignored me and stomped out of the room.

My mother looked down slightly now.

Adrian stepped forward again. “You act like you’re the only one under pressure,” he hissed. “Do you know what it’s like being compared to you every day? The perfect hockey son who ran away?”

My expression softened just a fraction.

Adrian continued. “You think I wanted this position? I was placed in it because you left.”

I looked at him for a long moment, I felt his pain but still he accepted it. “You didn’t have to become me.”

Adrian laughed bitterly. “No,” he scoffed. “I had to replace you.”

Isabella sat back down slowly.

My mother whispered, this time with a pleading tone. “Please… stop.”

“This is the problem,” I interrupted softly. “Everyone here is trying to replace someone instead of becoming themselves.”

I picked up his jacket. “I’m not coming back to the company,” I emphasized. “But I’m not your enemy either. I’m just the only one who stopped lying about what I want.”

I turned and walked toward the door.

—————————-

The moment I left, I joined my friend at the bar.

“…Say that again,” My friend, Ryan chuckled.

I exhaled slowly. “I saw her.”

Tyler blinked. “Aria?”

I didn’t answer.

Ryan let out a low whistle.

“Five years,” he muttered. “And you’re still reacting like that?”

I frowned slightly. “Like what?”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Like someone just pulled the ground out from under you.”

I scoffed. “That’s dramatic.”

“Is it?” Tyler cut in. “Because you’ve been off since you walked in here.”

I took a sip of my drink, ignoring them. “Drop it.”

Ryan didn’t. “Did you talk to her?”

“Interview,” I said shortly.

“That’s not what I asked.”

I shot him a look.

He smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “That tells me everything.”

Tyler leaned in now, curious.

“Wait—what happened between you two again?” he asked. “Because the way you’re acting—”

“Nothing happened,” I cut in.

Ryan laughed under his breath. “Right,” he whispered like he was mocking me. “Nothing.”

I hated conversations like this, being the center discussion.

Tyler suddenly brought it up. “So why didn’t you ever move on?”

I looked at him. “What makes you think I didn’t?”

Tyler raised a brow. “Because you don’t let anyone get close,” he said simply. “You just go around town fucking one girl to another, but never committing.”

Ryan nodded in agreement. “And every time someone even mentions her name, your entire mood shifts.”

I shook my head. “You’re both overthinking it.”

Ryan smirked. “You’re still obsessed with her.”

Tyler let out a quiet “damn.”

I let out a short breath. I didn’t argue want to argue with them.

—————————————-

Aria’s POV

I had gone to the gym where Mason and his crew usually did their workout, according to my intel.

The sound of weights hitting the floor echoed through the gym as I stepped in. I tightened my grip on my notebook.

Players moved in rhythm.

And then, I saw him, Mason.

He was in the training area, shirtless.

Sweat glistening down his back, muscles tightening as he pushed himself up from the floor, slow and deliberate.

My steps slowed, as I watched him.

When I noticed what I was doing, I looked away almost immediately.

“Focus.” I told myself. “You’re here for work. Not this.” I exhaled quietly and walked further in.

“Can I help you?”

I turned.

A man stood a few feet away, with a clipboard in hand, he had sharp eyes.

He looked like the Coach.

“I’m Aria Bennett,” I said, straightening slightly. “A journalist with Westline Media.”

His expression didn’t change. “I’m here regarding Captain Mason Rossi.”

That got his attention. “Yeah?” he said.

I nodded, professional. “My company assigned me to lead his season coverage. Interviews, performance tracking, team insights—full media access within agreed limits.”

I handed over my press authorization.

He scanned it briefly, then glanced past me.

I didn’t turn, I already knew where that prickling stare was coming from.

The coach handed the paper back. “You picked a busy time,” he said. “We’re in prep mode.”

“I’ll keep it brief,” I replied.

“Rossi,” the coach called out.

I turned this time. Mason was already looking at me.

Slowly, he stood up, grabbing a towel and dragging it across his face, then over his neck.

He walked over. Every step steady.

“Media?” he said. His voice was low, but his eyes, they weren’t.

I swallowed lightly, then nodded. “Yes. I’ll be handling your coverage moving forward.”

Silence stretched. He didn’t respond, didn’t even look at the coach. Just me, like he was trying to figure something out.

The coach stepped in. “She’s with Westline,” he said. “Got clearance.”

I nodded in agreement already feeling nervous from the stare.

Mason’s gaze didn’t move. “I didn’t ask,” he replied.

My grip tightened slightly around my notebook. “I’ll need scheduled access,” I continued, forcing my voice steady.

“Post-training interviews, occasional one-on-one sessions, and any press-related updates concerning your performance and team dynamics.”

Still, noreaction. Just that stare. It was starting to get under my skin.

The coach sighed slightly.

“We can arrange media slots twice a week,” he said. “Nothing that interferes with training.”

“That works,” I said.

“No.” Mason suddenly murmured.

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said no,” he repeated, wiping his hands with the towel. “I’m not doing this.”

The coach sighed lightly. “Rossi—”

“I don’t want media following me around,” Mason cut in, still not looking at anyone but me. “Not now. Not this season.”

“This isn’t optional,” I said, keeping my voice even. “It’s part of your team’s media obligations.”

His gaze sharpened. “Then let the team handle it,” he replied. “Not you.”

I held his stare this time. “This is my assignment.”

“You’re wasting your time,” he said. “I’m not giving you anything.”

I stepped closer not backing down. “Then I’ll take whatever you do give,” I replied.

That got a reaction.

He smirked briefly. “Still stubborn,” he muttered.

The words were low. But I heard it. “This is my job,” I said. “And I’m not walking away from it.”

A short, humorless laugh left him. “Yeah,” he said. “I remember.”

That pulled something tight in my chest, taking me briefly down memory lane.

Before I could respond, he stepped back.

“Do what you want,” he added, already turning away. “Just don’t expect me to cooperate.”

And just like that, he walked off.

Don’t take it personal,” the coach said beside me. “You can watch our practice match if you want.”

I let out a quiet breath. “Thank you.”