In The Penalty Box

by Lynn Rush

  I hustled after them, but Caleb pulled the door shut before I got to it, that little stinker.

  He so had a monster wedgie in his near future.

  I yanked the door open and bolted out. My shoulder met something soft, and it squeaked. I stumbled to the side and reached for whoever I’d rammed into.

  “Dude,” Preach yelled as he lunged forward, arms out toward me.

  “It’s okay.”

  Wait, that was Willow’s voice.

  I looked down, and sure as shit, I was holding Willow Covington up by the shoulders. I’d totally stepped on her foot.

  “Smooth on the ice, but a disaster behind the wheel and on land.” Willow stared up at me, a slight smile curving the side of her mouth.

  The scent of fresh ice swirled around me. It was like a perfume or something. And those big, blue eyes. The determination and perseverance shone through, even now, in this dimly lit hallway.

  Willow was exactly the type of girl I needed in my life but definitely couldn’t have.

  CHAPTER

  SEVENTEEN

  Willow

  Ice sprayed across my face mask as I clenched my jaw. Bring it!

  Matthew Halliday, Twin River’s best player, skated toward me, handling the puck with an ease that only came after spending every waking moment on the ice. He played the same position as Brodie but didn’t quite have the same record-breaking numbers Brodie had. Focus, Willow. Stop thinking about Brodie.

  Thirteen days of intense practice and spending four hours a day together had made it tricky to stop thinking about him, though…

  I willed myself to turn my thoughts back to Matthew, who was getting closer with every glide across the ice.

  My heart thumped as he wound up. He had three seconds to make his shot before the buzzer sounded.

  Stop the puck. Whatever you do, just stop the puck.

  His stick glided across the ice and slapped the vulcanized rubber disk.

  As the puck flew through the air, I pressed my knees together, ignoring the dull ache running down the back of my ankle, and dug my stick into the ice.

  Thwack. Glove open, I grabbed the puck before it sailed over my shoulder.

  My teammates pumped their fists in the air as I shrugged and cocked my head to the side. “Nice try, Matty.”

  His emerald green eyes flashed at me. “I can’t believe they let a figure skater on the guys’ hockey team. You’re just going to end up ice kill!”

  I flipped my mask off and spit my mouth guard out. My braids fell loose and swung against my shoulders. “Aw, are you threatened by little ol’ me?”

  “Threatened? I feel sorry for your team. They’re so desperate they’re allowing a delicate little ice dancer to be their goalie.”

  I slammed my stick onto the ice as adrenaline raced through my veins. “I stopped your puck just like I’m going to stop your lips from moving.”

  “Enough,” a loud voice bellowed from the team bench.

  I snapped my head to the right and froze. Coach Kurt stood on the team bench with his hands on his hips. He wasn’t even five-foot-ten, but with his stocky build and low gravel-like voice, he rarely had to repeat himself and hardly ever yelled.

  “This isn’t a boxing match.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, slipping my mouth guard back in and tugging my goalie mask on.

  I dropped the puck and passed it to Nathaniel, then shifted into the goal.

  Too bad I turned too quickly and lost my balance.

  I stabbed my skate into the ice and my stick to the side, and I stayed upright. Damn pads.

  They weighed about five hundred pounds.

  “Nice one, tutu girl,” Pax’s dad yelled out from the crowd. I shrugged off the insult and the minor padding malfunction, zeroing in on the puck. Nathaniel passed it to Brodie, and he immediately attacked the other team’s goal.

  Please make it. Please make it.

  If we didn’t, we’d be tied up, and that meant shootout time. I’d never done one.

  My throat tightened, and my stomach flip-flopped as a bead of sweat trickled down my temple.

  Preach got the puck. Stick back. Slap!

  “Just wide,” the announcer yelled.

  We were out of time.

  “You might have blocked my shot earlier, but there’s no way I’m going to let that happen again.”

  I spun around, coming face-to-face with Matthew. “When I stop your puck for the second time today, I’m going to frame my stats sheet and mail it to you.”

  “Never going to happen, Covington.”

  Rolling my eyes, I made my way to the bench.

  “You’ve got this, Willow.” Brodie nudged my shoulder.

  “I feel like I’m going to puke,” I admitted under my breath.

  Flakes of amber sparked in his dark eyes. “This is like any other competition. You’ve been in this situation hundreds of times. Take a deep breath and focus.”

  Coach Kurt motioned the team over.

  “Willow, they’re going to come at you from all angles,” Coach said, holding up a small whiteboard with red arrows pointing at the goal. “Their first shooter will probably go for your left side, the second shooter, your five-hole, and the third shooter, he’s a wildcard. But you already stopped one of his today, so you know what you’re up against. That’s only three shots to stop.”

  “You think you can stay upright for that?” Pax shouted.

  “You just earned bleacher running for the next four days.” Coach pointed at him.

  Oh great. Pax already had it in for me and now he was running because of me…this wasn’t going to end well.

  “Let’s send Twin River packing with a big L,” Brodie yelled. “We got this.”

  We pumped our fists in the air and shouted, “Falcons!”

  As the guys assembled in the center of the ice, I slipped off my catcher and knelt down. Pressing my bare palm to the ice, I closed my eyes and focused on the task at hand.

  Stop every puck.

  Stay calm.

  You got this.

  I gulped through the nerves and focused on the net as I rose. Our fan’s cheers were met with thundering feet being stomped on the metal bleachers by the Twin River crowd. Turning my focus to the first opponent with the puck, all the sounds in the ice rink faded into white noise. Nothing but this game, this second, existed. I would prove I deserved to be here. I would not let this team down.

  I blocked the first shot with my stick.

  “Yes!” I punched my fist into the air.

  Preach was up first for us and scored our first shot. We were off to a solid start.

  “Nice one, Preach,” Coach yelled from the bench. “Keep up the good work, Willow.”

  Using the blocker on my left hand, I swatted the next shot into the boards. Nathaniel was up for us. “Come on, Nathaniel! Get it in the back of the net.”

  He wound up, and the slap echoed through the arena.

  It shot wide, and the crowd groaned.

  “Good try, Nathaniel,” Coach shouted. “Let’s go, Willow!”

  My mouth went dry as Matthew dropped the puck at the center of the rink. He locked eyes with me and winked. “You’re going down,” he mouthed.

  “Come on, Willow,” I whispered. “You got this.” I slapped my stick on the ice and bent my knees.

  Matthew moved the puck back and forth, effortlessly.

  I slammed my stick on the ice and chomped my mouth guard. Here we go.

  Matthew brought back his stick and slapped the puck so hard, the sound echoed in my head. As it tore through the air, I raised my glove, but it was moving too fast.

  I was going to miss it.

  I pushed off, making my skate slip.

  No!

  Pure instinct took over, and I jetted my glove up, punch
ing at that black disc. A sting reverberated through the leather, and the puck bounced against the ice.

  I tried to fall on it, but my momentum left me sliding across the ice in the wrong direction.

  Damn it!

  Roars erupted from the Twin River fans.

  Matthew skated up to the net and winked at me. “Framed stats, coming your way.”

  He grinned at me before heading back to his team on the centerline. But I didn’t miss the flash of respect flowing through his eyes or the way his smirk shifted into a half smile.

  I wanted to slam my fists into the ice, but now wasn’t the time. The goal Matthew had scored on me meant that Brodie had to score on the other goalie or we’d walk away with our first club loss.

  On the opposite side of the rink, Brodie pulled down his helmet and tapped his stick on the ice. The rink fell silent. He pressed off his left skate and then his right, handling the puck like a pro.

  His stick practically a blur, he slapped the puck even harder than Matthew had. It whizzed through the air and straight past the other goalie. The guy didn’t even get a hint of leather on that puck.

  My teammates threw their sticks up and pumped their fists into the air.

  My hands trembled from relief as I lifted my own stick. We’d won!

  I’d almost blown it, but Brodie had secured the win thanks to his wicked slap shot.

  The crowd fell into a frenzy.

  I joined my teammates skating around the rink. A mixture of pure joy and disappointment swirled through my body. I’d not blocked Matthew’s shot when I should have. Thankfully, Brodie covered my mistake, and we’d pulled off a win.

  Jessa and Gramps were both on their feet. They had little pom-poms in their hands. I’d never seen Gramps look so proud.

  It hit me right in the gut, too. He’d watched me skate plenty of times, but I’d never seen him so excited as I did right now. It sure felt good to be out here again, with cheering crowds, the energy of a big win.

  If I were skating, under the heavy applause of the crowd, I’d take my victory lap, waving at people and collecting their roses.

  God, I missed that.

  An airhorn blared, yanking me back to reality. Chants of “Twin River sucks” echoed through the arena.

  On the opposite side of the rink, Brodie picked up the puck and threw it into the stands. A little boy with red hair caught it and waved it above his head.

  Totally in his element, Brodie grinned.

  Coach made his way onto the rink and handed Brodie a puck painted maroon and silver. “Congrats, Brodie! You’re our player of the game.” As Brodie did a victory lap, Coach skated over to me. “Good game, Willow.”

  “I almost blew it by missing that shot, Coach.” My lungs constricted, making it difficult to take a deep breath.

  “Willow, you played well,” he said. “And we came away with a win. Remember, hockey is a team sport. You have your entire team to rely on.”

  “Thanks.” I knew he was right, but I was so used to being on the ice alone and having to execute every movement with perfection. It was ingrained in my DNA.

  Preach patted me on the back as we made our way off the ice and toward the locker rooms. “Great job.”

  “Willow?” A girl with black braids approached me. She couldn’t be more than twelve years old. “I…wow. I can’t believe you’re playing hockey. That is so cool.”

  “What’s your name?” I asked, a wave of warmth flowing over my chest at the excitement in this girl’s green eyes.

  “Sarah. I’m a figure skater. I…you are such a great skater. How you took gold last year at Juniors Classic in Tucson.” She let out a sigh. “I was there, you know. I handed you a white teddy bear.”

  The breath whooshed out of my lungs, and my eyes instantly stung. Last year, at Tucson…I’d torn my Achilles shortly after that. It’d been my last competition.

  Sarah handed me a rose and smiled. “I hope you get back to it soon.”

  With shaking hands, I grabbed the flower, blinking back the tears burning my eyes. “Um. Thanks. I…hope so, too.”

  The girl hugged me, then hurried away.

  Beaming, I practically floated back to the locker room, riding the wave of hope.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHTEEN

  Brodie

  “Hey, it’s the sequined goalie!” Eric pushed up from the couch where we’d been sitting, his drink sloshing over the rim of his glass.

  I grabbed his cup and set it on the coffee table, then hopped to my feet. Willow ignored Eric’s comment as she made her way in from the front door into the side hallway.

  Nathaniel tackled Eric around the waist. Teddy joined in and tackled them both onto the couch, laughing and messing around. My cue to leave. I didn’t have time for Eric’s shit. He was getting as bad as Pax in harassing Willow for being on the team.

  I cleared the two steps leading into the living room I’d been hanging out in, waiting for Willow to show up.

  “Hey,” I said, coming alongside her. “Thought maybe you wouldn’t make it.”

  She shrugged, her long black hair a curtain over her shoulders. Usually, she wore it in braids, but now it was free. And it was pretty. Nice and shiny, and I caught a hint of coconut radiating from her.

  “Didn’t feel much like celebrating, you know?” She stepped around me and headed toward the kitchen.

  “Are you kidding me?” I followed her. “Your first game after having only been playing hockey a few weeks, and you blocked one of Matthew Halliday’s shots.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, then veered into the kitchen. “Pepsi?”

  She held up her hand and caught a can of soda without batting an eye. I leaned in and saw Landen sitting beside the fridge, giving out drinks. He nodded my direction, then held up a soda can, too. I shook him off, not wanting the caffeine right now, then followed Willow into the hallway, but it was away from the living room, which was fine by me.

  “Some of the guys are frying fish outside. If you haven’t eaten yet, you should totally get a plate. There’s literally nothing better than fresh-caught lake perch.”

  She rubbed her stomach. “Fried fish does sound good. Maybe I’ll try some in a bit.”

  As we walked down the hallway and farther away from the buzz of the party, my thoughts drifted to Pax. He was drunk and being more aggressive than ever with his smack talk about Willow almost losing the game for us. Normally, I’d cut someone like him out, but we had history. I needed to stand by him.

  “Deke?” I asked as I hustled closer to her.

  “What?” Willow whipped around, a smile filling her face. “You’re seriously throwing a hockey vocab test at me? Now?”

  “Gotta know this stuff.” I shrugged and leaned against the wall in the narrow hallway.

  “Yeah, yeah. So what’s the big deal with this Twin River town? I don’t remember such a big rivalry when I lived here.”

  “Yeah, back when you were eight?” I chuckled. “Twin River is way bigger than us. It’s awesome when a small-town school beats the big ones. It’s, like, total bragging rights.”

  “So beating Twin River is big, got it. That’s why this place is packed.” She nodded down the hall. “Preach’s house sure is big.”

  It was, but right now, I was glad the fifty or so people here were confined to the living room area and there weren’t many roaming around this end of the house.

  Willow cracked open her soda, took a swig, then leaned back against the wall directly across from me. She wore a jean skirt, open-shouldered red shirt, and flip-flops. Her toned legs seemed like they went on for miles.

  “Deke,” I said again.

  “That word’s fake.”

  “It is not.” I chuckled. “Come on. Deke.”

  She crossed her eyes at me.

  I grinned. “A deceptive mov
e or fake used to get around an opponent.”

  “Oh,” she said, bonking her head back against the wall. “See, I’m never going to get this hockey thing.”

  “Sure you are. Give it a little time.”

  “I almost lost us the game, Brodie.” She closed her eyes. “Shit.”

  “We won, Toe Pick,” I said.

  “What?” She leaned forward and cupped her ear.

  I pushed off the wall and leaned toward her. Her bright blue eyes widened, and I palmed the wall right beside her head. Only about six inches separated us.

  “We won, Toe Pick,” I said, a little quieter since I was so close to her.

  “Thanks to you,” she whispered.

  “Thanks to everyone on the team…including you.”

  She huffed and stood a little straighter, looking around. A swirl of coconut and citrus curled around me as I drew in her scent. It reminded me of the snack her gramps had brought down when we were training in her basement.

  “Want me to get some orange slices to cheer you up?” I asked.

  Her eyes darkened for a second, and her jaw tensed. Oh shit.

  “I’m sorry. Dick of me to mention something your grandma used to do for you…”

  “It’s fine. Just stings a little. I’m…kinda missing her right now.” She glanced to the side. “But Jessa tells me you know a little about that, huh?” she asked, her voice quiet.

  What I appreciated was that she didn’t have a pity stare when asking me. The awkward, I’m not sure what to say stance. I’d gotten sick of that over the last year and a half since my mom died.

  “Yep. Mom.” That was about all I got out before a lump formed in my throat.

  “Sucks.” Her gaze locked on mine.

  Those blue eyes could see right through me. Right through my bullshit. The front I put on for everyone, except Preach, about how things were fine at home. About how scared I was Caleb would have another asthma attack and I wouldn’t be there to help him. And about how freaked out I was that I might let my family legacy down by not getting on the Boston College hockey team.

  Yet I didn’t see any judgment in her gaze. It was like she really saw me as me. Not Brodie “Wind” Windom, son of the guy who owned half the town. Star hockey player.