In The Penalty Box

by Lynn Rush

  Hopefully it wasn’t anyone coming early, because I wanted to steal a few kisses from Willow while we were practicing. Couldn’t do that with the guys around. We were eleven days into our secret relationship and so far doing pretty well keeping it hidden.

  “Hey!” Willow jumped onto the ice and slid a few feet, keeping perfectly balanced.

  “What’s up, Toe Pick?” I said, and she laughed.

  “I think I like Ice Princess better. Well, Princess, because well…” She curtseyed. “You’re my prince.”

  I laughed, and it echoed through the arena. She covered her face with her hands and laughed, too, as she made her way to me. When I stepped onto the ice, her eyes widened and she dropped her bag, gave a quick look around, then leaped into my arms.

  Cinching her legs around my waist, I held her tight, my arms around her butt. There was nothing better than being held by Willow. She came in and planted a whopper of a kiss on me.

  “Missed you,” she whispered as she feathered kisses along my neck.

  “You just saw me last night.” I shifted, rested her on the short wall, and stepped into her more.

  “Well, that was twelve whole hours ago.”

  I touched a kiss to the tip of her cold nose. “Are we practicing or…”

  “Practice.” She patted my chest. “I’m so excited, Brodie. I have to show you something.”

  She jumped down, then grabbed her bag and hustled to the team bench. A flash of white caught my attention. She’d pulled out her figure skates.

  “Um…thought I was slapping shots at you?” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.

  “I was practicing the other day.”

  “When?”

  “You were hanging with Preach a couple days ago, I can’t remember. Anyway. I came up here during open ice.” She stood and pulled off her sweats and hoodie.

  She was wearing a sequined skating outfit of some sort. Nothing as flashy as those I’d seen her compete in, but not too far off. Even had the tights on and everything.

  “What’s going on?” My stomach twisted into a knot seeing her in the skating outfit. I wanted her so much to focus on hockey. Yeah, it was selfish of me, but I couldn’t help myself. We were now in the second week of December, and she’d said she’d have to get on a team by January.

  That meant our time together was seriously limited. But if she loved hockey enough, maybe she wouldn’t leave?

  “I can’t wait to show you, Brodie. I’m so excited, I can’t even…” She quickly laced up her skates as I did mine. “Will you video me?”

  She was holding out her phone to me when I looked up. “Um…sure.”

  What the heck was going on? The same fire I’d just been thinking about was in her eyes, but it was for figure skating.

  “We’re facing off with Roger the Right Hand of God in a few weeks. We really should—”

  “What is up with that nickname?” she asked. But then: “Just give me a few minutes and we can practice.” She hopped up from the bench, then kissed my cheek. “Brodie. I’m so excited.”

  I could tell, and I wanted to be, too, I really did, but it was like she was slipping through my fingers. These three and a half months had been amazing. I didn’t want it to end. Ever.

  She hunched over and powered through a few laps, a smile filling her face the entire time. Each push was strong, focused. The skating outfit hugged her fit body, highlighting her curves, her strength. She was beautiful. Sexy.

  “Watch!”

  She flipped around so she was skating backward. Her arms were out, her skates expertly crossing over each other, and she was picking up speed. One great push from her powerful legs bolted her into the air. She pulled in her arms and kicked her leg around, then brought it close to her other one as she flew through the air, spinning.

  With the grace of a swan, she landed on her skate, her other leg kicking out, and then she turned, stabbed her toe pick into the ice, and stopped, her hands in the air, her back arched, and a smile filling her face.

  She’d nailed it.

  I applauded her as the realization hit me like a hockey puck to the forehead. A training team would definitely pick her up. She would leave me.

  “Yes!” She whooped and zoomed toward me. “Did you see that?”

  She didn’t slow down, so I widened my stance and opened my arms, knowing what she was going to do. With another solid push, she leaped into my arms. I caught her and coasted back slightly. Glancing over my shoulder, I glided around toward the middle of the rink.

  “I did it, Brodie. I did it. A double axel! And not just one. I landed that jump and a few others multiple times, multiple days in a row, all with minimal discomfort!”

  “That’s…great. Really great.” My gut churned as I held her tighter to me. I didn’t want to let her go.

  “So, will you video me?”

  I eased her to her skates. “I thought you sent out videos already?”

  “Oh, I did.” She slouched slightly. “I got two rejections, but there are a few out still. And there’s this new company opening up in Miami. I was talking to Ericka earlier, and she said she heard about it at the rink yesterday.”

  “Miami, huh?” The weight on my chest got even heavier. That was really far away.

  “I’m still looking into it, but there isn’t much online about it yet. I want to know who the coach is.” She held up her phone. “But I was hoping to get another video made up in case it’s a go.”

  “Sure. Yes.” I accepted it and cleared my throat. I couldn’t have her hearing or seeing my disappointment. She was so happy. And to come back from the injury she’d suffered, that was a huge feat.

  She quirked her eyebrow up and then smiled. “You good?”

  “Yes. Yes. Great.” I gently shoved her away from me. “Loosen up a little again. Then go for it.”

  My stomach plummeted. Not only was Willow going to leave, it was actually my fault. I was the one who’d offered to train her so she’d be on our hockey team. All because I wanted to win so badly. I’d trained her hard. Pushed her. And now her dreams were coming true, which was everything I wanted for her; I did. I just never expected to feel this way about her.

  And now my time with her was quickly coming to an end.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Willow

  “Are you ever going to tell me why they call Roger the Right Hand of God?” I leaned over, resting my hands on my thighs as I gasped for air after that last drill.

  “Come on, Princess! Let’s go.” Brodie slammed his stick on the ice, totally ignoring my question.

  He’d set two orange cones out, fifteen yards apart. I’d lost track how many times I’d skated back and forth as Brodie timed me on his iPhone. I needed a rest.

  “Again,” he said, clapping his hands together.

  “Need a breather,” I said with a gasp. “Tell me about Roger.”

  Brodie remained in the middle of the rink, his hands on his hips. He was wearing jogging pants, a long-sleeve Wolverines Athletics shirt that hugged his chest and biceps. I was already breathless, but him standing there, looking all statuesque, made it even harder to breathe.

  “Right Hand of God. Just a nickname we gave him because he’s so good.”

  “Not as good as you.”

  “We jockey back and forth in the record books.” He let out a long breath. “Right now, I’ve got the lead scorer record by one. And he has a slap shot almost as lethal as mine.”

  “Hence the extra hard slap shots you hammered at me earlier.” I nodded and leaned forward. “I’m ready.”

  He blew his whistle, and I blasted out of my starting position.

  My skates dug into the ice, and I pushed even harder. Lungs burning, I zeroed in on the final cone in front of me. By the time I reached it, my legs felt like jelly.


  “Better.” Brodie glanced up from his cell phone.

  “Are you serious?” I crouched and tried to catch my breath.

  “You beat your old time by a second and a half.”

  His lack of enthusiasm wasn’t lost on me.

  I struggled to get back upright.

  “Is something wrong?” I skated to him and reached my arms around his neck.

  He shook his head.

  “Do you want to watch a movie later tonight?” I stood on my toes and kissed him on the cheek.

  Brodie pulled back. “I can’t. I’m hanging out with Preach.”

  “Oh. All right.” I let my gloves fall to the ice and pulled off my helmet.

  “What are you doing?” Brodie looked at my gear and then back at me.

  My pads came next. I threw them across the ice, and they slid until they bumped against the boards.

  “Willow?”

  I jumped up and wrapped my legs around him.

  “Whoa.” He held on but didn’t meet my lips for a kiss. “For real, what are you doing? We’re supposed to be practicing.”

  “We only have twenty minutes left, and since you’re going to be hanging out with Preach tonight…” I dipped my head and met his lips. They were cold from being in the rink for the last hour and a half.

  He returned my kiss with a sense of urgency and intensity I hadn’t experienced with him yet. Curling his hands around my butt, he held me flush with him. That simple movement stoked the embers simmering to life deep in my core.

  Fastening myself to him even more, I tilted his head, my tongue dueling with his as we got lost in the kiss. I vaguely remember him gliding across the ice as I was tackling his mouth, but we came to a stop.

  He stepped over the threshold, into the penalty box. His hands shifted to my waist as he sat down on the bench. My legs fell astride him, sending a streak of heat scorching through my abdomen. I settled atop him, basking in his warmth as I took the kiss deeper.

  Combing my hair away from my face, he eased my head back and peppered kisses and nips along my neck.

  Goose bumps stormed down my spine, and I couldn’t hold back a shiver. It wasn’t from the cold, not one bit, but Brodie pulled away slightly.

  “This okay?” His hot breath caressed my skin.

  “There’s nobody I’d rather be in the penalty box with than you.”

  I buried my hands in his silky hair and leaned back, giving him even more access. He tasted like mint, and his woodsy scent fused with me as I breathed him in.

  I might be leaving soon, so I was going to take advantage of every single minute I had with this amazing guy. And by the way he was clinging to me, he must be thinking the same thing.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Brodie

  The shrill ring of my phone ripped me out of the dark depths of sleep like someone threw a bucket of ice water on me.

  I rolled over and slapped at the phone sitting on my bed table. It wasn’t Preach’s ring or Willow’s, so it didn’t matter. Only sleep mattered.

  “Hello?” a slurred voice called out. “Brodie!”

  Wait a second. That was Dad’s voice. I sat up, shoving the covers off and snatching my phone. I’d accidentally answered the call in my fuss to silence it.

  It was an unknown number, though. What the heck?

  Clearing my throat, I sat up more. “Hello?”

  “Son. It’s me.”

  “Dad?” I kicked my feet over the side and planted them on the soft carpet. “What’s wrong? Where’s your cell?”

  He coughed into the phone so loudly, I had to pull it away from my ear.

  “Come get me.” His voice cracked, and I heard murmuring over the airwaves. “I’m at the station.”

  “Station? As in—”

  “Yes, damn it, the police station. Get down here now and grab the checkbook out of the safe. You’ll need to post bail for me.”

  My stomach plunged, and the air knocked out of my lungs as if someone slapped a puck to my chest.

  “Brodie,” Dad yelled.

  “I’m here. I—safe—what’s the code?” I asked as I put him on speaker and opened a note on my phone to write it down.

  He rattled off four numbers.

  “Wait. What? Slow down—”

  The phone clicked.

  “Hello?” I said.

  No answer.

  “Dad?”

  Silence.

  “What the hell?”

  I hopped to my feet and hurdled the pile of dirty clothes next to my dresser to get to my closet. I dug around the laundry basket and grabbed my sweats and yanked a hoodie from the hangers.

  “Oh crap.” Caleb was here. I couldn’t leave him.

  Maybe Willow could come—no. As much as I would love to call her, I didn’t want her to have to explain to her dad at five o’clock in the morning that she had to help me with Caleb because my dad was in jail. I’d call Preach. The Armstrongs were almost like surrogate parents to Caleb. They’d understand.

  I’d text Willow later once I figured out what the hell my dad was doing in jail.

  I dialed Preach’s number as I hustled to Dad’s room and into his closet where the safe was.

  “This better be good,” Preach said, his voice cracking.

  “Can you meet me at the police station?”

  “What?” His voice came through loud and clear that time.

  I rattled off what little I knew as I punched the code into the safe. He said he’d meet me there, and I hung up.

  Hopefully, I’d heard the numbers correctly and the safe would open. I turned the knob and it clicked. I yanked open the heavy door.

  Piles of cash nearly filled the thing. “Son of a bitch.” I’d never seen so much money. Beside the stack on the right, there were three checkbooks. I grabbed them all and shoved them in my hoodie front pocket.

  While in the closet, I snatched a Wolverines stocking cap to cover my unruly hair. No time to brush my teeth, though, so I snatched some gum off his dresser beside the closet door.

  I bolted to Caleb’s room and cracked the door open. The kid was zonked out, lying on his belly, his left arm perched behind him, and his mouth wide open.

  The humidifier was going full steam beside the bed, and tissues littered the floor. Damn stuffy nose. The kid was getting a cold again.

  “Caleb?” I said, trying to see if he’d hear me.

  Good. He didn’t. I snuck to his bed and swaddled him up in his blankets, then hoisted him into my arms. The quilts would keep him warm.

  With the coordination of a newbie skater, I got Caleb tucked into the Tahoe, and then I hopped into the front seat.

  Watching over my shoulder as I turned on the engine, my sleeping-like-the-dead brother didn’t even flinch. Maybe I’d catch a break, and he wouldn’t know what happened.

  As fast as the icy roads allowed, I sped to the police station. It had snowed overnight, but I hadn’t noticed. I was too busy messaging Willow until I could hardly keep my eyes open.

  I steered the car into the station lot. It was empty except for Preach’s black Jeep, so I pulled in beside it. He jumped out and came to my side of the car.

  “What’s up, man?”

  His dragon morning breath rammed into me like a steamroller. “Can you come sit in here and watch Caleb? He’s sleeping.”

  “Sure.” He opened my front door. “What’s—”

  “Don’t know any details yet.”

  “Go find out what’s going on,” Preach said, then slid into my seat. “I got him.”

  I charged up the five steps leading to the front entrance, then pulled open the door and hustled to the front desk.

  A lady with long brown hair and an officer’s uniform leaned over the front desk. “Hi.”

  The five
chairs in the small waiting room were empty, so I went with it. “I’m here for Ken Windom.”

  The lady leaned back, disappearing from my sight, so I stepped in closer. She came around the corner from behind a half door that was still swinging.

  “You okay, kid? Oh. Hi, Brodie. I’m Darla.”

  Damn small towns. I hated that everyone knew me.

  I nodded. “My dad’s here?”

  “Unfortunately.” She leaned to the side and followed my line of sight.

  “Kid brother’s in the back. He’s sleeping. Preach is with him.”

  “Oh, got it.” Her hazel eyes softened. “Sorry, Brodie. Not exactly what you need to deal with right now, huh?”

  Oh great. What’d she know that I didn’t? I nodded and stepped farther into the waiting room, toward her desk, as she went back around the corner to her seat.

  “Here are his checkbooks.” I handed them over and realized how bad my hands were shaking. “I didn’t know what to bring. He said something about bail?”

  “I’ll go get things taken care of. Here are his personal belongings.” She handed me a manila envelope from across the desk. “Be right back.”

  My freaking dad was in the slammer. My severely asthmatic brother was in the backseat of my SUV at an ungodly early hour. And…it was negative fifteen degrees out. It was like I’d fallen into a nightmare or something.

  I didn’t need this shit.

  Darla came out from behind the counter. “Hey, Brodie.” She eyed me. “Everything okay with you? I mean…are you and Caleb doing all right?”

  “Um…yeah?”

  “Your dad was in a bad way last night. He got in a fight over at Bud’s Bar. Officer Banks charged him with disorderly conduct.”

  A fight?

  I’d never seen my dad put his hands on anyone. Drunk or not.

  Plus, I didn’t even know he was in town. I thought he was at a business meeting out of state. But I didn’t tell her that. No need for Child Protective Services to get involved with us.

  “We’re fine. The Armstrongs have been watching out for us.” I gulped through the lie.

  “If you’re ever not fine, you can come here. You know that, right?”