In The Penalty Box

by Lynn Rush

  “Go get ’em, Champ.” I heard a new voice add to the mix. I spun around, my gaze landing on Gramps. “Show those boys what you’re made of.”

  My heart soared. “Gramps!” I grinned. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to see my Snowflake skate.” He smiled back at me as he took a seat behind where Jessa and I had been. “I got here a little late, but it looks like I may see you on the ice after all.”

  “Okay, fine, guys,” I said with a smile. “Let’s do this.”

  CHAPTER

  FOUR

  Brodie

  “Damn, girl, you need to turn your skates down,” Nathaniel said from the middle of the rink as he shaded his eyes. “Those things are way too bright!”

  Willow stepped through the half door wearing Jessa’s little brother’s crappy hockey equipment.

  And those white skates were a sharp contrast to the dark goalie gear. I bit back a chuckle and glanced at Preach. He’d rested his helmet atop his head and was covering his mouth with his hand, more than likely holding back a chuckle, too.

  Leave it to Nathaniel to make a comment, though.

  The pads were a little too big, and—

  “I can’t see!” Nathaniel had one hand over his eyes and was reaching out in front of him with his other. “It’s…like the sun…”

  “After I show you up on this ice, you’ll want a pair just like mine,” Willow responded.

  I let out a chuckle and nodded at Preach. “Go deal with that joker, will ya?”

  He pulled his helmet down, then sped at Nathaniel and didn’t stop until his shoulder rammed into Nathaniel’s stomach. They landed in a heap. Pax, Teddy, Eric, and Trevor jumped onto the pile as well.

  It appeared that Trevor had worked through his frustration over Josiah getting hurt, so that was good.

  Jessa clapped her hands and laughed. “Thank goodness for Dillon’s growth spurt.”

  I remembered Jessa’s little brother, Dillon, from Saturday morning youth league. He was an average player but too small and had gotten knocked around pretty harshly out there. Now that I thought about it, Willow wasn’t much bigger than Dillon. Sure, this was a pick-up game, but we still hit pretty hard. What if she got hurt?

  I know I’d been teasing her, but maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  Jessa put the helmet on Willow’s head but couldn’t get the chin strap fastened.

  “For the love of ice.” I playfully slapped her hand away and grabbed the strap.

  “Well, if this ridiculous thing wasn’t so cumbersome, I could snap it.” Willow narrowed her eyes at me, but even through the full-face mask she was wearing, I saw a smile.

  “And maybe put a little glitter on it, Ice Princess,” I said, unable to hold back my grin.

  “Be nice, or I won’t goalie for you.”

  “Maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  “You think I can’t do it?”

  “No. Not even.” I gave the chin strap one more tug. “But even this stuff is too big on you.”

  “Oh please. I got this.”

  I chuckled. “You ever play goalie during your street hockey days?”

  “Well, kind of, but not exactly. We rotated spots back then. Otherwise, all we’d have were a bunch of right and left wingers.” She cleared her throat and rolled her eyes at me. “But I stopped your sad attempt at a goal earlier—you know, the one that almost clocked my best friend—so it’ll be fine.”

  She kind of reminded me of my little brother, Caleb. Even at eight years old, he was always making smart-ass remarks, and he didn’t back down from anything. With his health issues lately, the poor kid had been forced to grow up way too fast.

  His severe asthma kept him off the ice, but I was okay with that. I didn’t want him getting hurt. The town, on the other hand…they figured he should be like me.

  Top scorer. Fastest on the ice.

  That was pressure he didn’t need.

  “Here,” Jessa said, handing me a pair of mitts. They were frayed and had a hole at the top.

  “Seriously?” These were crap.

  I picked at the worn leather, and my finger went right through the lacing—I wasn’t even pushing very hard. There was no way she could be in the goal with these.

  “A puck could break through this and nail you in the head. Let’s use Josiah’s spare gloves. His other gear is too big for you, but maybe those would work.”

  “I dunno,” Willow said. “Would he be cool with that?”

  “Yeah.” We swapped gear and sticks from time to time during practice, but a sinking sensation in my stomach told me it would be a long time before Josiah needed any of his gear.

  I snagged Josiah’s extra gloves from the team’s bench, then hustled back to Willow and Jessa. “Here. Give these a try.”

  Jessa shrugged. “She’ll be fine with whatever you give her. She legit has Spider-Man reflexes.”

  “I’ll block anything you shoot at me.” Willow’s massive blue eyes flared with an excitement I recognized. This girl loved the ice.

  I tightened the mitt over her left hand. “That’ll happen.”

  Jessa giggled, then cleared her throat. They looked at one another like they had a secret joke, and I was the butt of it.

  “Bet you a coffee you don’t get one past me,” Willow said.

  I glanced at Jessa to see if Willow was serious, and she was nodding.

  “You do know that I hold the county record for goals in a game, right, figure skater?”

  Willow glanced at Jessa. “That might have been nice to know.”

  “You didn’t ask!” Jessa laughed and hugged Willow from the side. “Doesn’t matter. Go get ’em, girl!”

  Willow eased onto the ice, nice and slow. Her legs were bent slightly, and her arms were out, as if she were testing the waters.

  “County record, huh, Puck Head?” she said, studying the ice around her as she got her bearings.

  I skated beside her toward the goal, in case she faltered, and said, “Yep. You going to challenge me to a shootout?”

  “Um, no.” She chuckled. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow, huh?” I winked. “Let’s just see if you can survive today.”

  “Bring it.”

  I drew in a deep breath, the cool air settling me down. I wasn’t sure we should keep playing after Josiah’s injury, let alone have someone in goal who was trained in spinning and twirling, not catching and blocking. But she seemed determined enough. And she could seriously skate—like she was as comfortable on the ice as I was. Then again, I’d learned to skate about the same time I learned to walk, and I’d been practicing here since I was nine. My initials were engraved beneath the players’ bench.

  My first goal was here.

  My first championship was here.

  Hell, even my first kiss was here.

  A familiar and calming sensation settled over me, like a blanket right out of the dryer. I loved being here. It was my second home. My church.

  Willow pushed off, gaining a few feet of distance from me. “Okay, let me give this a try.” A few more pushes and she got a little speed going.

  “Nice. You’re doing—”

  She turned to spray a stop, but her shin guard shifted down. She flopped onto her stomach and skidded headfirst into the net.

  “Goal!” Nathaniel yelled, then fell back onto the ice laughing.

  “Ufff.” She pushed herself onto her back. “Dang it.”

  “You good?” I asked around a laugh.

  “I’m good.” She scrambled to her feet and drifted back toward the goal. “Are we gonna play or just stand around?”

  “Oh yeah. It’s on!” Nathaniel yelled as he and the rest of the team positioned up.

  “Gotta love her determination,” I said a
s I skated up to Preach.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, his massive smile fading some. “Let’s go.”

  Landen threw the puck down, and I snatched it. I zig-zagged around Preach, Jason, and Trevor, then spun, shoving the puck between Trevor’s skates.

  “You’re going down,” he said, chasing after me.

  I slapped the puck to Nathaniel, and he dished it back a little ahead of me. I was right on target for the goal.

  Willow stood there, totally not in the ready position at all, her five-hole wide open. Practically begging for me to slap the puck through.

  Nudging her mask up, she made eye contact. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, immediately focusing on the puck.

  With amazing accuracy from what I could tell.

  I picked up the pace, moving the puck as fast as I could, but she kept it in her sights.

  There, she finally sat, readying herself. The too-big stick slapped the ice, covering a little bit of her five-hole.

  I raised my stick, setting up to slap the puck home, when a force of nature rammed into me from the side.

  Preach.

  I planted my skate, spraying the glass to the left of the goal, and spun around.

  Laughing, he pushed off me, having stolen the puck. “Not today, buddy.”

  Oh, he was so toast.

  I gave Willow a quick look and didn’t miss the relief brightening her blue eyes.

  “You got lucky,” I said. “I almost won a coffee off you.”

  She nudged her mask up and stuck her tongue out at me.

  Seriously, the girl stuck her tongue out at me. Other than my eight-year-old brother, who does that?

  Damn if it wasn’t cute, though.

  I battled Preach and came away with the puck again. This time, everyone was down at the other end, and there was no way they’d be able to catch me in time.

  My nickname wasn’t Wind for nothing.

  It was just Willow and me—no chance for a check. I couldn’t help but grin. Each stride burned through my quads; the scrape of my stick across the ice and the smell of the frozen water energized my soul. Everything blurred into nothingness. Sounds muffled.

  The goal. The net. The puck.

  I drew in a deep breath as I pushed two more times. A quick fake left, then right, and I slapped the puck.

  Willow squeaked but raised her mitt. Her skates shifted as she reached up and kicked her leg a little. Almost like her arm and her leg were joined, they went out together to deflect the shot.

  The slap of the puck landing in the middle of her glove rang out in the arena like a bell, and it felt like a puck had hit me square in the chest. I froze, coasting across the ice, as the sound of the puck hitting her leather echoed in my mind.

  With her hand still up in the air, she fell into the splits.

  Two guys behind me groaned.

  She just sat there, though, in the splits, holding up her glove.

  “Yes!” Jessa yelled from the bleachers.

  I came to a stop before Willow and met her gaze. She’d freaking stopped my shot. The surprise must have shocked my vocabulary right out of my brain, because I couldn’t formulate a word.

  Willow tossed me the puck, then pushed herself to her feet. I reached down and grabbed her to help her up the rest of the way.

  She patted my chest and grinned. “You, hockey player, owe me a coffee.”

  CHAPTER

  FIVE

  Willow

  “Did you see me stop that goal from Brodie?” My face hurt from smiling so much. Though I’d let a few goals in, I’d also blocked at least five shots during my hour with the hockey players. “I know I’m not going to be the next Wayne Gretzky right off the bat, but I think I did pretty well.”

  Gramps chuckled. “Gretzky wasn’t a goalie, but you did remind me of Andrei Vasilevskiy…”

  “Oh, right. Yeah, that guy.” Note to self, Google Andrei Vasilevskiy when I get home.

  I still couldn’t quite believe it. Me…playing hockey.

  Funny thing, though, I hadn’t felt this good about myself in months. Talk about a spectacular debut at the Kenneth Windom Ice Den, only it wasn’t with my figure skating.

  “You did a great job, Snowflake.” Gramps clicked his seat belt into place. “You’re a natural.”

  “Thanks, Gramps.” I looked down at my phone. Jessa had already messaged me with some action shots she’d taken while I was geared up.

  I tapped a message open to Ericka, my host home sister back in Colorado, to send her a picture.

  ME: Check me out…

  ERICKA: No. Freaking. Way.

  ERICKA: Figure skater turned hockey player?

  ME: No no no. Just having some fun.

  ERICKA: I miss you. It’s not the same here without you.

  An ache stabbed at my chest. I missed her, too. She was an amazing speed skater with a bright future ahead of her, plus I missed having someone as close as a sister to talk athletics with.

  “It was just like when we used to play on Heron Lane! Remember how Grams always used to bring us orange slices?”

  “Those were fun times, weren’t they?” My grandpa’s voice choked with emotion.

  Hearing his voice crack felt like a skating blade to the chest and brought a fresh wave of burning tears to sting my eyes.

  I smiled at him, but my heart pinged with pain. When she’d passed, our whole family had struggled with the loss.

  Accepting the challenge Brodie threw down at me today sure was an unexpected pick-me-up. Competing on the ice again made me remember just how much I’d missed it. Granted, it was hockey and not a solo program aiming for a gold medal, but it still fueled my competitive fire.

  For a few minutes, I managed to forget about my Achilles. It was sore from the attempted jumps earlier, but the exhilaration and adrenaline from the game had numbed the pain. I might have to find out when they scrimmaged again and see if they needed help.

  No. They probably had a backup goalie, and I shouldn’t do it. I couldn’t risk another injury.

  “How do you feel about grabbing a hamburger and fries with your ol’ gramps?”

  “Sounds great.” I clicked the lock button on the side of my phone and set it on my lap. I low-key wanted to ask Gramps to take me to Walgreens so I could get some prints of me tearing up the ice. Granted, it was in the wrong sport, but if I kept working, I’d get past this injury and back to my skating program in Colorado in no time.

  “It’s nice to see you on the ice again, and see you with Jessa, too.”

  A flutter shot across my belly.

  “It’s good to be back,” I said, even though it might not be 100 percent true. Having to move back to Woodhaven from Colorado had hit me hard. As if it wasn’t bad enough that I’d seriously injured my foot, my sponsors had frozen their support a few months back, and my parents couldn’t afford the training program and rehab expenses without the money my sponsors contributed. Living with a host family out there helped with the cost, but it wasn’t enough.

  Being back in Gramps’s house reminded me of Grams so much, which was both nice and painful. I was going to miss him when I moved back to Colorado once my rehab was done.

  Ten minutes later, we pulled up to an A&W.

  A guy wearing white roller skates with bright orange wheels made his way to the side of our car. “Hey, there. I’m Jake. Can I interest you in a couple of root beer floats?”

  “Definitely. Two, please.” Gramps and I placed the rest of our order, then settled into our seats.

  “Car service is so underrated.” I unclicked my seat belt. “As are roller skates.”

  Smiling, Gramps reached over and patted me on the shoulder. “You’re such a great kid. You know that, right?”

  “Thanks, Gramps.”

  “I know these past few months have
been really tough with rehab, losing the sponsors, moving away from Colorado…” He pressed his lips together and rubbed his open palms against the steering wheel. “Snowflake, I have some news to share with you.”

  My hunger pangs instantly morphed into pangs of dread. “Are you okay? Are Mom and Dad okay?”

  Memories of Gramps getting sick two years ago flashed through my mind. Mom and Dad were struggling to make ends meet, so financially it made the most sense for them to move back here to help Gramps. The first two years I was out in Colorado, I only had one sponsor, which meant racking up major debt. Luckily, my third year up until a few months ago, I had enough sponsors and a host family, so my costs of living in Colorado were mostly covered. To this day, I felt guilty about not doing more. Even if I’d been making minimum wage, it would have helped.

  “Everyone is fine.” Gramps brought his hands to his lap.

  “You scared me for a minute.” My heart was still pounding, but I felt slightly better.

  His brow pinched as he turned toward me. “Willow, we heard from Dr. Nolan today.”

  Breath whooshed out of my lungs. Dr. Nolan was my physical therapist in Colorado. She’d been checking in with my PT in Wisconsin every day for the two weeks I’d been here, keeping track of my progress. But more importantly, she was the only person who could sign off on my return to the skating team.

  “Did she tell you when I can go back?” Maybe I wouldn’t be stuck here as long as I’d thought. I’d been following everything to the T, so—

  “It wasn’t good news, Snowflake.” Gramps’s shoulders slumped.

  My mouth opened, but no words came out. It felt as if a wave of arctic air stormed through the car when a shiver rattled down my spine. My stomach churned as I replayed what he’d said. Not good news? I was getting better. I mean, I knew I was struggling making jumps, but everything else was coming along fine. My leg strength had improved significantly these last couple of months.

  “She said that you’re not making progress quickly enough to return to the team.”

  “But I’ll get there. They said they’d hold my spot while I rehabbed out here.” I squeezed my eyes shut as the tears burned. “They said they’d give me until December. I’m getting better. Stronger every single day.”