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Whatever my father saw there made him back off an inch. And another until he slumped down in the booth again. “You sold me out? After everything I’ve done for you.”
“You have a problem, Coach. You need to get some help.”
“What do you know about my problems? You’ve got the world at your feet, and you’re too chickenshit to—”
“Okay, James, that’s enough.”
Coach Tucker and Coach Carson appeared both wearing the same disappointed expressions.
I was too stunned to fight Kal as he still held me tight, and I watched the Lakers coaches haul my father out of the booth and toward the door. But my father couldn’t let it go. He had to have the last word.
“She’s not worth it, kid,” he yelled at Mason.
“Actually, sir, that’s where you’re wrong.” Mason stepped forward. “Harper is a good person. Better than you’ll ever be. But don’t worry. I’ll be all she needs. I’ll love her enough that she’ll never have to worry about you again.”
“Oh my God,” I gasped, clapping a hand over my mouth, my heart ready to burst out of my chest. Because had Mason really just said what I thought he had?
“That was pretty fucking epic,” Kal whispered. “Especially for a hockey player.”
Mason turned slowly, giving my father his back and settling his stormy gaze on mine. Kal let me go with a quiet, “Go get your guy, Dixie.”
We moved like magnets, eating up the space between us until Mason was right there.
“Are you okay?” he said, reaching for me.
“I… that was so embarrassing. I can’t believe he—”
“Harper, listen to me and listen good. I don’t give a fuck what he said or did. I only care about you. So I’ll ask you again. Are you okay?”
“Y-yeah, I think so. I… you said you love me.”
“Caught that, huh?” His mouth tipped up.
“Is it…?”
“True? What do you think, blondie?”
“I don’t know.” I went up on my tiptoes and looped my arms around his neck. “Maybe you should say it again. Just so I can be sure.”
“I love you, Harper Rose Dixon. I don’t know when the fuck it happened, and it caught me by surprise, but it doesn’t make it any less true. I love you.”
“Thanks. That’s really nice of you. But I’m sorry, I’m not sure—”
Mason attacked me, digging his fingers into my sides and tickling me.
“Okay, okay, you got me,” I conceded. “I’ll say it.”
Mason drew me closer, leaning down and touching his head to mine, completely uncaring that we had a small audience of Kal and the few diners seated at their tables.
“Only say it if you mean it,” he whispered, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.
“I, Harper Rose Dixon, love you, Mason—”
“Matthew.”
“Mason Matthew Steele.”
“Thank fuck for that.” He grinned, and I grinned back.
