In The Penalty Box

by Lynn Rush

  “That was hot as hell!” Brodie said, grinning, then pressed a kiss to my mouth.

  “What? Almost getting busted by Pax?”

  “No! Kissing you was hot!” He offered me a sexy grin and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re amazing, Willow.”

  “You are, too. And that ass…”

  We both started laughing.

  “You head back to the party first. I’ll come in a minute. Then we won’t look like we were messing around in the woods.” I winked.

  Brodie grinned and then slapped me on the butt. “Can’t have that now, can we?”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Brodie

  “I can’t believe we’re in Twin River!” Willow said as she sipped her hot cocoa from the thermos cup I’d brought. “Isn’t it sacrilegious or something?”

  I laughed and steered the Tahoe onto Wildflower Street. “Tinted windows, no one will see.”

  “Really? So they won’t see this?” She leaned over the console and pressed her warm lips to my cheek. Then my neck. Behind my ear.

  A jolt of heat shot straight down my spine as she nipped at my earlobe.

  “You’re gonna make me crash,” I said, scanning the road for a spot to park, because I wanted to take this a little further.

  Hopefully she did, too.

  Her lips grazed my ear, and she let out a quiet sigh. Warm breath brushed against my neck, and my spine tightened. Damn, she tripped my trigger.

  Badger’s Park. Perfect.

  I steered the car into the dark, empty lot and pulled into the farthest parking spot.

  “I thought we were going to tour the lights?” Willow whispered.

  “In a bit.” I put the gear into park and grabbed her thermos. She giggled as I put it in the cup holder. “I need more of you first.”

  She nodded, then leaned toward me. I cupped her face and met her halfway, claiming her lips with an urgency that almost scared me. When it was just me and her, together, nothing else mattered. Crap with my dad. School. Her leaving. None of it.

  The only things that existed were her lips. Her tongue. Her soft skin. Her fresh, clean citrus scent fused with me. Locks of her hair tickled against my face as she leaned more into me.

  “Do you trust me?” I whispered against her mouth.

  She moaned a yes.

  I moved my seat back while I stayed connected to her addicting mouth. Once it was far enough back, I disconnected with her and gave her a wink.

  I sat up straight, then burrowed my hands beneath her. She squealed with laughter. I hoisted her up and brought her to my side of the car.

  “Thank God for big seats,” she said as she sat astride me. “Wow.”

  I pulled her in for a kiss. Her body formed to mine as she leaned into me. “This okay?”

  “More than okay.” Her fingers combed through my hair, and I reached down to recline the seat more. “Oh my gosh.”

  I claimed her mouth again, sliding my hand over her tight butt to pull her closer to me. She suddenly flinched, then looked up. “Crap. Someone’s coming.”

  A flash of light beamed through the Tahoe, and my hammering heart cranked up that much more. Just when things were getting hot…

  I glanced over my shoulder, and sure enough, a car was pulling in.

  Laughing, she scrambled back to her side of the car and cupped her hands over her cheeks. “Dang, Brodie.”

  Hopefully, she meant that in a good way. I righted my seat and put the gear in reverse. “Right back atcha, Princess.”

  She chuckled and buckled her belt as I drove the car out of the lot, the ice-packed snow crunching beneath the tires.

  “I need an ice-cold drink instead of this steaming hot cocoa.” She grinned and fanned herself with her hand.

  “Same.” I reached over and twined my fingers with hers.

  I steered the vehicle onto the main drag. Every year, Twin River had a community light show. Sure, they were our rival town, but it was cool how they did this to raise money for the food pantry. Usually, I was here with Preach, Pax, and Nathaniel, but this time, it was just me and Willow, and I was totally good with that.

  “This is cool,” Willow said, looking out her window. “Annie’s Coffee Shop. Look at that. So cute.”

  “Maybe once the season is done, you and I can come here, you know, out in the open, officially dating.” I kissed the back of her hand.

  “Deal,” she said. She didn’t smile, though, and her voice carried a hint of sadness.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Just…wish we could openly date now, you know? Not have to hide it. Just come here and have a coffee date.”

  “Well, I did lose those two coffee bets. You still have the gift card I gave you?”

  “I totally do.” She grinned.

  “There you go. We can go, and it’ll be under the cover of me owing you for my bet I lost.”

  “True. I totally creamed you.”

  “You totally surprised me,” I said. “In lots of ways.”

  “That Sydney girl, she really ruined you for figure skaters, huh?” Willow sagged into her seat more, resting her head back.

  That stopped me cold. “How’d you find out?”

  “Small town, gossip, you know… Or Jessa.”

  I cracked a smile. “Ah…she and Preach could write my autobiography.”

  “You know, not all figure skaters are the same.”

  “Yeah, you sure showed me that.”

  She wasn’t watching the lights out the window anymore. She was solely focused on me. If I didn’t have to watch the road, I would have been happy to get lost in her big, blue eyes.

  “You don’t talk much about her or your past girlfriends.”

  “Not really wanting to talk about that stuff with my current girlfriend, you know?”

  “Girlfriend?” She sat up.

  “Secret girlfriend?” I said, more like a question. We hadn’t really talked about official titles.

  “I like the sound of girlfriend.” She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. “I like it a lot, Brodie.”

  “Good. Me, too. And as for Sydney, she was fake. More after me because my name is on the Ice Den sign and stuff like that. I just didn’t catch on. I figured since she loved the ice and was a pretty good skater, she’d get me.” I shook my head. “So not the case.”

  “Yeah, well, figure skaters and hockey players are kinda like vampires and werewolves…never got along. We always ragged on you guys for being puck heads.” Willow pointed out the window. “Oh cute, look at that snowman of lights.”

  “Yup, that’s the Ice Cream Shack. Wicked awesome malts,” I said. “I’ll bring you here, too. Oh, and in Clover, there’s another ice cream place.” I couldn’t wait to bring her everywhere, out in the open, after…well, if she was still here.

  Shit.

  I hated that the thought of her leaving to go back to figure skating always popped into my mind. No. Not now. I was going to enjoy every second I could with her.

  “I was so wrong about hockey players, though. You’re not just a bunch of brutes.”

  “No, we’re a brute squad.” I laughed.

  “Wait, what?” She scrunched up her nose.

  I clutched my chest, pretending to be offended. “It’s a Princess Bride reference! Only one of the most classic movies of all time. My mom loved that movie.”

  “That’s really sweet.” She smiled.

  “Anyway, back to the brute or, as you say, puck head, stuff—we’re not so bad…” I poked her shoulder. “You’re a hockey player now, too, you know.”

  She picked up her thermos and took a sip, looking out the windshield. She’d positioned her long hair around her neck, so it all lay on her chest, shiny and soft. Her skin reflected the barrage of lights we
were driving by, giving it a subtle glow.

  A smile curved her full lips. “I am a hockey player, aren’t I?”

  “Hell, yeah.” I nodded, a twinge of hope that my dream of her staying here to play hockey instead of leaving for figure skating pulsing through my chest. “Have you ever thought of focusing on hockey? I mean, maybe trying to get a scholarship or something, you know, to a four-year college?”

  “No. I’ve always just expected to skate. Make the Olympics.” She let out a sigh. “It’s always been skating. But it’s almost Christmas, and a team hasn’t picked me up yet.”

  “Have you heard from any more of them?”

  “Got another rejection email today, after school. I just don’t get it. I thought for sure…” She rubbed her thighs with her hands and shifted in her seat. “Time’s running out, Brodie.”

  More hope sprung in my chest, but it was quickly followed by a pang of guilt. I shouldn’t be wishing for her dreams to not come true because I wanted her to stay here in Woodhaven. “But there’s time. You still have some videos out and you’re landing your jumps more and more.”

  She nodded but kept her focus on her fingers, picking at the nail polish.

  “But…with hockey,” I said, my heart pounding. I wasn’t sure I should say this, because it was more selfish talk, but…I had to. “You should think about it. The scouts are looking at you as well as some of the other players.”

  Willow sat up a bit straighter. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “It is nice being on a team. Figure skating is pretty much a solo gig. We’re always kind of watching over our shoulders to make sure someone isn’t going to push you down so they can have your spot.”

  “Pretty catty, huh?”

  “Some. And here, on this team—other than Eric still giving me grief—it’s not like that.” She grinned. “It’s fun being on a real team.”

  “You’ve got choices, girl.” If only she’d choose me—er—hockey. Maybe she’d consider Boston College? Or one nearby. It’d be amazing having her here for good.

  I wasn’t sure I should go that route, though. I was already hooked on her, big-time, but she was getting so strong. She was consistently landing some pretty wicked jumps again. It was wrong of me to want her to stay back, giving up her dream.

  Ah hell. I wasn’t sure what to think other than I really, really liked her and was glad she was in my car right now, with me, holding my hand. That was all I needed…for now.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Brodie

  “I am not eating corn dogs and hot sauce for Christmas Eve dinner.” Caleb threw the frozen package on the floor and stomped his foot.

  “That’s enough, Caleb.” I couldn’t blame the little guy, but frozen packages—totally dangerous.

  “Where’s Dad?” Caleb yelled, his face getting red. “It’s Christmas Eve. I want real food.”

  I snatched the package off the floor. “Did you not see the burned-to-a-crisp pan in the sink? I tried to cook a turkey.”

  Caleb stuck out his bottom lip, and his eyebrows pulled together. “That’s why it stinks in here?”

  I chuckled. “I suck at cooking.” Corn dogs were one of my favorites, but I was getting sick of them, too.

  “Where’s Dad?”

  “I don’t know.”

  An ache gave way in the back of my throat as I pulled my little brother in for a hug.

  I’d gotten a text from our dad yesterday, but it was random. Something about coming home for Christmas dinner, all the fixings in tow. Then again, pretty much everything he’d said lately had been all but worthless and totally unreliable.

  It was nearly seven o’clock on Christmas Eve. That jerk wasn’t showing up.

  I let out a long breath and opened a text to Preach. Maybe we should just crash over there for the rest of Christmas break. The Armstrongs were always offering. They knew things were rough… They just didn’t know how rough. Plus, I couldn’t keep lying to Caleb. I didn’t know where our father was.

  And he was right. He couldn’t keep eating this crap food.

  “Hey, guys,” Dad yelled as he paraded through the kitchen entryway.

  I let out a gasp.

  “Daddy!” Caleb bolted around the kitchen island corner and directly into Dad’s open arms.

  He’d had to drop a bag in order to catch my little brother, but he’d done it. Even if he’d had to stumble back a little. I was at the ready to jump in and catch him if he’d fallen.

  Instead, I leaned against the side of the center island, watching.

  Dad’s normally crisp business shirt was wrinkled, like it’d been crammed into a gym bag for two days. His brown hair was noticeably grayer along the temples. And he hadn’t shaved in several days.

  My heart thudded wildly in my chest.

  The bag on the floor wasn’t food. It was a couple of wrapped presents.

  Great. What were we going to eat? There wasn’t crap in the cupboards or fridge, not that it mattered. I mean, even I could cook better than he could.

  An ache bloomed at the base of my skull and pulsed a steady beat until it pooled at my temples. I needed to figure this out. Talk with Dad or something. I couldn’t keep doing this.

  “…Brodie?” Dad said, stepping toward me.

  In his hands, he held a wrapped box.

  “Sweet,” Caleb yelled as he dropped to the tile floor. “Can I open it now, Daddy? Can I?”

  “Sure, kiddo.” As he drew near, the stench of liquor rolled over me. My stomach clenched with such a force, I had to cough to cover.

  I could not believe this shit. I stepped toward him and stared him eye-to-eye since we were the same height. My heart hammered and my hands went slick.

  “You’re drinking?” I whispered as I checked on Caleb. He was out of range, too focused on tearing the paper off his gift. “And you drove here?”

  “Only a couple. I could pass a sobriety test.” He rested his hand on the center island as he eyed me with a glazed look. I could knock him over with a hearty sneeze; there was no way he could pass a sobriety test.

  “Where have you been for the last two weeks?”

  “Working.” He shoved my gift into my stomach. “You’re welcome.”

  Anger bubbled just under the surface of my skin, threatening to erupt at any moment.

  I tossed the present on the center island without looking at it and stepped back. “We’re leaving.”

  “You are not going anywhere.” He grabbed my arm.

  I spun around and shoved him. “Get your hands off me.”

  “Brodie?” Caleb’s tiny voice trickled in from behind me.

  “Come here, kiddo.” Dad squatted down and opened his arms to Caleb. “Brodie’s upset. He’ll get over it.”

  Caleb didn’t move.

  “Pretty sad when your own son won’t come to you when he’s scared, huh?” Brodie asked.

  “You ungrateful—”

  “Son. Yeah. I’m ungrateful. I’m a jerk to think our dad should be with us, sober, on Christmas Eve.” I backed up, putting my hand out for Caleb to take.

  “Don’t be mad, Brodie,” Caleb whispered to me. “Daddy’s here.”

  “That’s right, kiddo.” Dad focused on Caleb. “I’m here.”

  My hands trembled, and my face felt like it was on fire.

  “For how long? Until you need another hiatus from life for a two-week bender?”

  He glared at me, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, his cold, hard eyes softened. His tense jaw loosened. He glanced at the table where my gift was thrown, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “What’s it going to be, Dad?”

  “I can’t do this.” He shook his head and stepped back.

  “Or won’t?” I yelled.

 
Tears lined his eyes, and his nostrils flared. “I can’t do this…” He took in a hitched breath. “… without her.”

  It felt like someone rammed a hockey stick through my chest and directly into my heart. Tears instantly stung my eyes, and bile tainted the back of my throat.

  Without her.

  “Daddy?” Caleb asked, easing out from behind me.

  I put my hand on my brother’s shoulder, keeping my focus on my father. “I can’t, either, Dad.” My voice cracked, and Caleb hugged me around my waist and buried his face in my stomach. My heart pounded so loud, I couldn’t hear my thoughts to try and figure out what to say or what to do next.

  And then Dad sobbed. Full on, face in his hands, shoulders shaking sobs.

  I knelt before Caleb. “Hey, buddy, run up to your room.”

  Tears filled his eyes.

  My heart shattered into a million pieces. This wasn’t fair. He didn’t deserve to be dragged into my dad’s crap.

  “Go on. I’ll be right there,” I whispered and brushed my knuckles along his cheek, trying to keep my own tears at bay. I had to be strong for Caleb. He needed me to take care of things.

  Dad must have gotten him a teddy bear because he hugged one I’d never seen before to his chest and nodded as he backed away, out of the kitchen.

  I shifted around and, still on my knees, shuffled to Dad. He was on his knees now, too, his hands covering his face, sobbing. The scent of alcohol wrapped around me again, nearly choking me, but I brushed it off.

  Maybe this was it. Maybe he was ready to change his ways.

  I’d Googled a little bit about alcoholism, not that I was sure he had it, but something was wrong with him, so I’d started there.

  What I’d seen scared the shit out of me, but it didn’t have to be fatal. Dad could come back from it. We all could.

  “Dad?” I whispered as I covered the last few inches to him. “Dad.”

  “It’s too hard.”

  “I know,” I said, squatting down. I wasn’t sure what to do other than sit there in front of him, willing my heart to stop jackhammering my ribs. I drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out, then rubbed my sweaty hands on my jeans. “I miss her, too.”