Page 167 of Frisco

I got it. I understood. I liked the guys.

They were family to me as well.

Harper didn’t quite understand. Neither did Aly, but they were supportive. Once Brandon got to know Shane, and he did that over many nights of rummy and drinking bourbon, but it happened. Brandon’s family was another thing. There was no gray meeting or compromise between his family and Shane or the club, but it was what it was. I didn’t care as long as I still got to have Aly, and she would’ve made sure that happened no matter what. After our night together, Aly was a changed woman with me or she’d just remembered who she was. I got it. I really did. There was real reason to be worried about the Red Demons, but I loved Shane. He was a Red.

That meant I was a Red.

Aly had a whole moment, but she said she loved me no matter what.

So in a way, that meant Aly was a Red.

I mean, not really, but we were still going with it.

It just meant I still had both of my best friends in my life, and I was Shane’s old lady, so I was happy. And now with my family being here, I was extra super happy.

Life was good. If you had people who loved you and were in your corner, life was damn good.

“You ready for tomorrow?”

I tipped my head back, feeling his arms around me, and I smiled up at him. “You mean when we get married?”

His smile deepened. “Yeah. That’s what I mean.”

I put my arms around him, raising up on my toes. “Yeah.” I moved so my head was right in front of his, a few inches separating us. I dropped my tone. “I am very ready.”

“Good.” He smiled at me.

I smiled back.

It was that night, after dancing and laughing for hours, when I was lying in his arms that I asked, “You told me you had a thing about masks.”

His arms tightened, just barely. “Yeah?”

I rolled so I was facing him more directly. “Why do you wear that hockey mask? I saw you.”

We were not conventional.

Our wedding tomorrow would not be conventional.

Because of that, or maybe despite all that, we were sleeping together the night before we got married.

Maybe I was having a moment where I wanted to know all the secrets. It’d been something on my mind because I hadn’t been able to get the image of him putting that mask on, wading into battle how he had both times. I wanted to understand the reason.

“It’s a symbol.”

I rolled to my back, looking at him. “A symbol for what?”

His face grew tight, but then he softened. “I’m their leader. In that moment, in that time, all the danger going on, it’s me. Every responsibility rides on my back. When we go into places where the guys wear masks for whatever reason, camouflage, gas masks, etc, my mask will stick out. Or that’s the hope. It’s twofold. It’s supposed to symbolize what we’re doing. Wreaking havoc. Justice. Fear. But mine should stick out the most. That’s the point. If someone is going to draw against us, I want them to point at me first. I’m the leader. I stand for my men, just as much as they stand for me. It’s me giving back to them. I protect them while they protect me. It’s a yin and yang balance. I’d be nothing without my men, whereas they would still be fine. They could get a new leader and they’d keep moving forward. So in a way it’s also my ode to them. I love them and I want to protect them, and it’s a way I might help them back as much as they’ve undoubtedly helped me already.”

I moved closer in his arms, touching his face, and cupping his cheek. “You send the message, but you are the message and you are standing for your men. All at the same time.”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

I got it. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t one-dimensional or even two-dimensional. It was a multi-layered answer and in some ways I felt like it could stand for so much more than it did. Then again, maybe it always did and that was the whole purpose.

The bottom line was, “You wear that mask to protect your men.”

“Yes.”

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