Page 41 of Love Me (Charlotte Monarchs Hockey #1)

Bree

A fter work, I hit up a yoga class at the gym near the hospital. I’m so exhausted when I get home that all I want to do is lie down and get lost in a book. Something easy and fun that I don’t have to put too much thought into.

Yesterday with Luke, realizing the similarities in our lives, the weight of the stress and burdens our families put on us, was eye-opening—and oddly reassuring. It’s as if the stars aligned and brought both of us to Charlotte to meet each other. Maybe we’re soul mates.

I’m not a religious person. If anything, I believe in karma and fate and things falling into place as they should when they should. I truly believe everyone comes into our lives for a purpose and that we were meant to meet them on a deeper level than coincidence.

How else can I explain meeting Luke? If we hadn’t met at the St Patrick’s Day celebration, it would have been at the hospital.

The thoughts swirling in my mind come to an abrupt halt when I walk into my apartment, and I’m reminded of why I haven’t been able to relax over the last few days.

Mason is sprawled out on the couch with one hand behind his head.

The other rests on his stomach, clutching the remote.

There’s a bulging black trash bag sitting next to the door, exactly where I left it this morning after asking him to take it to the trash chute, which is located ten steps down the hallway.

“Hey,” I greet him, tossing my keys on the counter.

“‘Sup?”

“It’s beautiful outside. What did you get into today?” I ask.

My feet are killing me. I reach down and pull off one shoe at a time, letting out a sigh of relief. I should’ve brought flip-flops to change into after class, but I completely forgot as I was running out the door this morning.

“A whole lot of this.”

“Did you even move?”

“Yep. To eat and take a piss.” He scratches the back of his head as he yawns.

Bending over, I pick up my shoes to take them to my room. Before I enter, I notice the suitcase that exploded in the corner of my living room. Clothing and shoes are strewn all over.

My blood boils at the mess. I’m not a borderline OCD neat freak like Luke, but I don’t like crap lying all over. Mason knows that.

“What happened over there?” I ask.

“I don’t have a place to put my stuff.”

“That’s because you’re not supposed to be here,” I snap. The room he’s sleeping in is considered an office according to the apartment’s floor plan. It doesn’t fit much more than the daybed and a nightstand I’ve set up in there, but I’m sure his duffel bag would fit on the floor.

Mason takes his eyes off the TV screen for a second to glance at me. “What’s your problem, Bree?”

“You, Mason. You are my problem.”

I wish I had invited Luke over after our date yesterday. He’d be the perfect person for Mason to talk to since he got his shit together after his injury. But I don’t want to add more to his plate or stress him out. Luke’s wounds over having to stop playing hockey are still fresh.

Mason rolls his eyes.

“You’ve been here four days and have done nothing except throw your clothes all over my apartment and lie on the couch.

The garbage is in the same spot I left it this morning even though you said you would take it out.

” My fists clench at my sides, and I take a breath.

But it doesn’t help. I’m still seconds from blowing up at him. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“Watching TV.”

“No. I mean with your life. What the fuck are you doing?”

Instead of letting him answer, I continue spilling my feelings before I lose my nerve. “It’s been seven years since you did anything , Mason. You haven’t gotten off your ass since you stopped playing hockey.”

He sighs, thick and heavy. “What are you smoking, Bree? I work.”

I want to punch his stupid face, but I never would.

“No, you don’t. You socialize at Swirly Chix once a week. I know you call pouring a few pints work, but it isn’t.”

“You sound like Mom.” Though I can’t see it, the eye roll practically drips from his voice.

I cringe inwardly like any daughter does when someone says they’re like their mother. But honestly, Mom is a smart, strong, successful businesswoman, so I can’t be too offended. “You can walk. You can talk. You can get on with your life, but you chose to be lazy and bitter.”

“I’m not bitter, Bree,” he snaps, throwing me a quick glance. When he speaks again, his voice is low. “I’m still trying to figure out what to do with my life.”

“You’re closing in on ten years! Get the fuck over it!”

“Excuse me?” He sits up, rigid, as if ready to brawl.

“You’ve been using your injury as an excuse for years.

Everyone in this family has been pussyfooting around you.

I spent over a year of my life researching concussions to figure out if there’s something we hadn’t tried.

I talked to doctors on your behalf. I spent years with Mom and Dad breathing down my neck about finding a way to help you, just so they can brag about their golden child again. ”

I’m trying not to sound like a jealous shrew, but I can’t help it. Mason was always the favorite because of his athleticism and promising hockey career. I know my parents are proud of me, but being a nurse wasn’t the glamorous life they expected from me.

Mason being drafted to the WHL was an accomplishment. Mason getting scouted by multiple NHL teams was something to brag about. They don’t talk about the kids I’ve helped through chemo and radiation—the kids I’ve literally nursed back to life.

“I didn’t ask you to do any of that,” he says.

“Bullshit! Bull-fucking-shit!” I slam my hand on the counter. “You used to show up at work and demand I let you talk to the doctors there.”

“I did that one time.”

“More like once a month, Mason. Every time you thought someone forgot about you or something else had taken Mom and Dad’s attention off poor you.”

“Here we go. Saint Bree is talking. Can you please fix me, Saint Bree? You’re so perfect and selfless.” He slams against the back of the couch again.

“At least I do something. I try to fix things. I try to make people better. I tried to help you. I wanted to be the hero for you and for Mom and Dad.”

“Blow them off, Bree! That’s what I do.”

“I tried, Mason! I moved to Charlotte. And what did they do? They sent you here. And you went along with it. You’re a fucking adult. You could have said no, but you got on a plane and took a vacation.”

Mason gets up and joins me at the kitchen counter. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Yes,” I say, looking my brother straight in the eye. There’s no reason to lie. He’ll know anyway.

“You’re serious?” he asks as if I’m bluffing.

“Yes! I want you to leave. Go back to California and get a job with a paycheck from a company our parents don’t own. Go back to school. Get your own apartment. Stop mooching off Mom and Dad.”

Mason looks like I slapped him across the face, but this conversation should have happened years ago, and I refuse to apologize.

We haven’t had a row like this since we were teenagers. And anything that was worth a knockdown, drag-out battle back then wasn’t anywhere near as intense.

But I don’t want to fight with him anymore. Especially not here, in this new drama-free life I’ve created in Charlotte.

“Look,” I continue in a softer voice. “Mom and Dad aren’t going to cut you off.

Why don’t you go to school and get a business or marketing degree or something?

You could set yourself up to take over both Healthy Chix and Swirly Chix.

Doesn’t that sound better than what you’ve got going on right now? ”

“Yeah, right. I’m sure you’re the one who’ll get willed the businesses,” he says.

“I don’t want the businesses. That’s not my life.

” I pause, taking a moment to calm down.

This is the perfect time to tell him about the news I received from the temporary agency I work through.

Maybe then he’ll understand just how serious I am about staying away from everything in California.

“I found out today that the hospital here wants to extend my contract for at least another six months.”

Mason’s tense shoulders relax slightly, and his scowl changes to an expression of surprise. By his reaction, I can tell I caught him off guard. “You’re not really thinking about staying, are you?”

“Yes. I am. I want to stay. The city is okay, but I love my job and my colleagues and—” I pause. “Luke.”

“Who’s Luke?”

“The guy I’ve been seeing here. I know Mom and Dad told you after my last call with them. Even Aunt Bonnie called to grill me about him.”

I feel the stupid, silly smile creep onto my face.

Last time my parents called, they both got on the phone with me at the same time.

Dad asked how things were going with Luke.

While I didn’t tell them I was in love, I did say that things were getting serious.

Saying the L-word out loud makes me feel like an idiot.

When I first met Luke, I didn’t want anything more than a fling.

How the hell did I let myself fall in love in less than six months?

Luke makes me feel more alive than I ever have.

He appreciates my strength yet understands my shortcomings.

And I can’t deny that he’s got me feeling some kind of way every time I’m with him.

It sounds so ridiculous because, while I’ve always liked having sex, I’ve never craved being with someone before.

I’ve never wanted to spend every moment with someone.

I can barely remember what life was like before I met him, and I can’t imagine what I’d do without him. I love California, but there’s nothing keeping me there. I don’t necessarily love Charlotte, but I feel like I can be myself here. And the thought of leaving Luke fills me with dread.

Mason’s eyes widen as he stares at me. “The hockey player?”

Though I want to shout it from the rooftops, a rap on the door stops me from doing anything other than nodding.