Page 65 of Writing Mr. Wrong

“But you know what I’m saying, because you’ve finally figured out who you need to worry about. Not your team. The guys up there.” Topher jabbed a finger toward the box where the owners sat. “You need their attention, and you got it.”

Mason grunted. He had no idea what Topher was saying, but he’d learned that noncommittal noises were usually enough.

Topher continued, “You showed them who’s the real MVP. Not some kid barely old enough to vote. It’s the guy who protects their shiny new toy from getting broken, and if you don’t? The kid’s on the sidelines for a few games.”

Was Topher implying he’d let Denny get hurt on purpose?

“And you made your point,” Topher said. “Their new toy got broke, and the game went on. You guys are still winning, and you’re personally playing better than you have in years because you’ve got some breathing room now, not playing bodyguard to some kid who’ll crumple under a hard stick.”

“Hold on,” Mason said. “I wouldn’t—”

Topher socked him in the shoulder. “Of course you wouldn’t. You’re a team player.” He winked at Mason. “Your secret’s safe with me. I’ve been telling everyone it was all a mistake. I know Mace, and he wouldn’t let a kid get hurt on purpose.”

“Thanks…”

Topher’s eyes met Mason’s. “You’d do the same for me, right?”

“Mace!” someone called. “Lunch!”

Mason glanced over. His teammate tapped his watch. “Reservation at one. Unless you’re planning on skating there, you’d better move.”

Mason waved that he was coming. Then he looked at Topher, but the other guy was already walking away.

If Topher thought Mason could do that, how many other players were quietly thinking the same thing?

Was Denny thinking it?

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

GEMMA

As Gemma led Grandma Dot into the busy arena, she checked her texts. The app opened a few messages above the one she wanted.

Gemma:Yes to tonight. I’m bringing my grandma

Mason had responded with a string of thumbs-up emojis that made her feel a little guilty for her underwhelming agreement.

Mason:I could meet you there, but I know you don’t want this to turn into a photo op

A pause, as if this were a question rather than the statement it seemed to be.

Gemma:Yes, please. Thank you

Mason replied with instructions, starting with where to park—a priority lot with a private entrance that meant they wouldn’t take an hour getting out of the arena later. He’d told her whichdoor to enter and then to head for the special pickup window on her left.

She walked up to the window and double-checked the next text.

“Hi,” she said. “I have tickets set aside for… Edin Argyle?”

The young woman thumbed through a stack and was about to pass them over when her eyes widened.

“You’re the writer.” More widening as she looked around quickly and lowered her voice. “Sorry. I guess that’s why it’s under a fake name. But you’re her, right? Mace’s writer lady.”

Not exactly how she’d describe herself, but Gemma found a pleasant smile.

The young woman scrambled through a pile of stuff at her elbow. Then with a crow of victory, she pulled out a copy ofA Highland Fling.

“I just started, but it’s so good.” She looked at the tickets. “Oh! Edin Argyle.” She grinned. “That’s a spoiler, right?”

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