Penalty Box: A Second Chance Sports Romance (Love in the Arena Book 1)

by Kayla Tirrell

  “Of course, I felt something, Silas.” She let out a humorless laugh and let her eyes find his once again. “That’s the problem. I let myself fall for you once, and in the end, I was heartbroken and alone. If you think that I’m going to let that happen again, then you’re insane.”

  “I was wrong to leave.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, you were.”

  They looked at each other for a long time before Silas spoke again. “How long am I going to have to suffer for my mistakes?”

  How long was he going to suffer?

  Miriam stood up, leaving the mess on the floor. She’d come back for it later when the closet was less crowded. She looked down at Silas. “Only as long as I do.”

  Right now, that felt like forever.

  She gave him a sad smile, and then she walked out—leaving him the same way he’d left her.

  Silas

  Silas had messed up.

  But that wasn’t the only thing weighing heavily on him.

  Most of the team still held a grudge against him. Practices were rough, and Silas was convinced that everyone was ganging up against him during scrimmages. The only positive was that it sharpened his skills for actual games. He was playing better than ever, and he hoped that if he scored enough goals, he’d eventually win them over.

  Today, he was given another chance.

  They had a home game that night, and Silas was ready.

  As the Storm warmed up in the arena, his eyes occasionally went to the stands. He knew Miriam wouldn’t be there yet—she’d be working the Storm table just outside the arena—but he always liked to see the sea of green and black as fans came early to watch the players go through drills.

  Loud cheering caught his attention, and he noticed two girls wearing what looked like authentic game day jerseys leaning over the railing behind the home bench. One had dark hair, the other blonde. “We love you!” they screamed in unison.

  Some of the players chuckled and waved. Silas shook his head and went through some footwork drills.

  “Jenkins!” the same two voices called again.

  Silas looked up to see them waving their arms above their heads. When they realized they had his attention, they both turned around to reveal that their jerseys had Jenkins and the number thirty-two on the backs.

  Fangirls were no stranger to Silas. Women liked watching the sport and sometimes developed little crushes on the players. No big deal as long as it stayed innocent. He grinned and waved at them. “Hey.”

  One of the girls cupped her hands around her mouth. “Will you come sign our jerseys?”

  The other girl waved a permanent marker in her hand.

  Silas turned to see if anyone else was paying attention—they were.

  Most of the team was watching with various degrees of smirks across their faces. Silas felt his cheeks warm under their gazes. Fangirls were one thing. A team that thought he was looking to gain groupies was another—especially when things were so rocky between him and Miriam.

  He cursed under his breath as he plastered a smile on his face and jogged over to where the girls were. They started jumping up and down in excitement, and as he got closer, he realized that one of them was McKensie.

  He stopped short in front of the railing. “Thanks for coming out tonight.”

  “Of course we came out.” McKensie stuck her hip out. “We love watching you and the other guys play. Don’t we, Ashlee?”

  The other girl smiled and nodded. “Totally.”

  “Didn’t I already sign your shirt at the last game?”

  Ashlee’s mouth opened in shock. “Oh, my goodness. He remembers you.”

  “Two games ago.” McKensie bit her bottom lip. “And it was a Storm shirt, not the jersey.”

  Close enough. “Here.” Silas put his hand out, and Ashlee handed him the marker. “Turn around.”

  The girls complied. They lifted their hair off their backs and Silas was just able to reach high enough to sign both jerseys. When he was done, the two girls took turns showing each other the newly acquired signatures.

  “Thank you so much.” McKensie reached out to take the marker back. When she did, she ran her fingers over Silas’ hand in a move that was obviously choreographed. She smiled sweetly. “We’ll let you get back to warming up. Good luck tonight.”

  Silas jerked his chin up at them. “Thanks.”

  He jogged back over to where the guys still stood. Drills forgotten, they all watched him closely.

  Bastian lifted a pen that he got from who-knew-where and said in a high-pitched voice, “Will you sign my jersey?”

  Silas rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

  Bastian gave him puppy-dog eyes. “Please, mister. I’m a really big fan.”

  “Come on, man. You know if those two were dudes, you wouldn’t give me the same crap about them wanting to get something signed.”

  “If those two were dudes,” Cardosa said, “I might have to rethink my whole policy on only dating women.”

  Vinny batted his eyelashes. “You think if I had bright green eyes, the girls would be lining up for my autograph too? I’m not above getting some of those weird contacts that change your eye color.”

  “You’d have to change a lot more than that.” Grant elbowed Vinny, who then playfully wrapped his arm around his neck and pulled him into loose a choke hold while the rest of the guys standing there chuckled at the wrestling.

  Finn stomped over and smacked the back of Vinny’s head.

  “Ow.” The defensive player let go of Grant and lifted his hands at Finn. “What was that for?”

  Finn shook his head. “Am I the only one who remembers we’re playing a game in an hour? Or does everyone think this is a good time to prance around the arena like a peacock?” His eyes went to Silas.

  Now it’s my fault fans are asking for autographs before the game? Silas pressed his lips together to keep the words from flying out of his mouth.

  The rest of the guys apologized to Finn and fell back into their routine. They continued to run drills until the buzzer indicated it was the visiting team’s turn to use the field for their own warmup.

  The Storm players jogged off the field, but Harris caught them just before they reached the locker room.

  “Hey, Coach,” the ticket manager called out.

  Coach stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

  “Would it be okay if I borrowed Jenkins for a minute?”

  Silas groaned. First the girls, now Harris? He wasn’t going to end up in anyone’s good graces if people kept pulling him away.

  Coach briefly looked between Silas and Harris. “Sure. Just make sure to send him to the locker room, ASAP. Got it?”

  Harris flashed a congenial smile. “Absolutely.”

  Once the rest of the team was gone, Harris’ smile fell. He glared at Silas. “What did you do?”

  Silas didn’t like the way Harris was talking to him. He’d dealt with enough already. He lifted a corner of his mouth into an arrogant smile. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

  Harris lifted his chin. “Miriam.”

  Miriam? Silas’ smile fell. “What happened?”

  “Not so cocky now, are you?”

  Silas glared at him.

  “Fine.” Harris ran a hand through his hair. “I know you two used to date before you left for the Wolves.”

  Silas really hated that narrative. He sounded like a monster every time someone said that. That’s because you are. “That was two years ago.”

  Harris snorted. “Spoken like a true jerk who thinks time makes everything better.”

  Silas stood up straight and pushed his shoulders back when he took a step toward Harris.

  Even though he was a couple inches shorter and several pounds lighter, to his credit, Harris only cowered slightly before he puffed out his own chest. “You broke her heart, and now you’re back acting like everything is okay.”

  Everything was not okay. Nobody knew that better than Silas. Not that he was going to
admit that to Harris. He crossed his arms waiting for him to continue.

  “She didn’t show up for the game today.”

  Silas dropped his arms to his sides. “What do you mean she didn’t show up? She loves home games.”

  “Exactly. And I know for a fact that she isn’t sick. I saw her at work this morning, and she seemed fine.”

  The words felt like a punch to the gut. Silas wasn’t sure if the ticket manager knew the full extent of how badly that hurt him. It killed Silas to know that Harris could pop into her office anytime or suggest going to the hip new restaurant for lunch. Both were things that Miriam wouldn’t even consider with Silas.

  He kept his face blank. “Did she say why she wasn’t coming?”

  Harris shook his head. “Only that I’d be manning the Storm table by myself because she was staying home.” He paused and gave Silas a tight smile. “Though I suspect it has something to do with you. Ever since you guys went to that school visit together, she’s been acting weird.”

  How much did Harris know? He wondered if Miriam had confided in her coworker about what happened. His breath caught as he remembered the ground rules that Greg had laid out years ago when he’d first found out that Silas and Miriam were a couple. If Harris blabbed and Greg somehow found out, Miriam would be in trouble. Silas didn’t want that.

  He also wasn’t sure that Harris actually knew anything. He shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe she ate some bad Chinese.” He mentally cringed once the words left his mouth, hating himself for creating that mental picture of Miriam sick with food poisoning.

  “It wasn’t food poisoning.” Harris narrowed his eyes. “And don’t think that I don’t have my eyes on you.”

  It took everything in Silas not to laugh at the childish threat. What was Harris going to do? Poke him in the chest until he got a bruise? The dude was soft from a cushy office job whereas Silas was lean muscle from daily workouts.

  “Noted.” He hitched a thumb toward the locker room. “Mind if I get back to the locker room in time to hear Coach go over the plan for tonight’s game?”

  Harris looked like he had more to say, but he shook his head and walked off in the opposite direction.

  Silas snuck inside and grabbed a spot on the bench without making a big commotion. He listened as Coach went over the plays for that night’s game and told them who the starting lineup would be. Silas tried to focus on what was being said, but all he could think about was what Harris had said—and what that meant for Silas and Miriam’s future.

  Miriam

  Watching the game on TV wasn’t nearly as exciting as sitting so close to the field you reach out and touch the players—but it was much safer.

  Miriam still wasn’t sure what to do about Silas, and she worried that she might be tempted to reach out and tap his shoulder if she were sitting next to the home bench. Maybe finish what they’d started. Sitting on her couch at home, her hands could only stuff cookies in her mouth, or pet Hobbes who was curled up in her lap, purring.

  She absent-mindedly rubbed behind her cat’s ears as she listened to the announcers give a breakdown of the game between the Storm and the Asteroids. They were nearing the end of the fourth quarter, and the visiting team was still up by one goal. She knew that everyone was going crazy as they waited for the Storm to tie it up. Nobody liked to be the trailing team, especially not in their home arena. At least if the Storm scored another goal, they could have a chance of winning in overtime.

  Not that the Asteroids were going to hand over a goal that easily. Both teams seemed to move with a renewed fervor as the game was in its final minutes.

  Miriam moved to the edge of her seat as the Asteroids brought the ball upfield to the Storm’s goal. Hobbes, realizing that he was playing second fiddle for her affections, stepped off her leg and lay down on the other side of the couch.

  That meant Miriam could now rest her elbows on her knees as she watched one of the Asteroid forwards take a shot on goal. Finn blocked it, and passed to Bastian, who cleared it out. It went right to Silas...who wasn’t paying attention.

  Really? With so much on the line? Miriam groaned. Silas had been playing sloppily the entire game—to the point where Miriam wondered why the coach kept putting him in.

  Another player for the Asteroid players took possession and drove the ball back toward Finn. The Storm’s defense cleared it out, and Grant made one more valiant effort to take a shot against the other team’s keeper just before the buzzer went off.

  It hit the post.

  The Asteroids won.

  All their players ran out onto the field to celebrate. Miriam flopped back in her seat and turned the TV off. She hated seeing losses for the Storm but knew it would be so much harder for the players.

  They wanted to make a big comeback, The Comeback, and earn a spot in the playoffs. One loss wouldn’t mean that dream was out of reach, but it was sure to be a blow to everyone. She bit her lip as she thought about Silas. He was going to get a lot of grief in the locker room from the coach and players alike.

  She looked at her phone, which was resting on the coffee table in front of her. Her fingers longed to reach out and grab it. Just a quick text. It wouldn’t mean that she’d forgiven him, only that she was a decent human being who hated seeing people down on their luck.

  Then why aren’t you sending a text to everyone on the team?

  Her brain was being super annoying right now, pointing out her flawed logic. Miriam decided she didn’t care. She reached out to grab the phone before she could convince herself not to and sent a quick message to Silas.

  Miriam: Sorry about tonight. You’ll do better next time.

  She hit send and dropped the phone in her lap, screen up. Silas was in the post-game recap with the rest of the players. His phone wouldn’t be on, much less on him. And yet, Miriam stared at the screen waiting for a reply.

  A text lit up her screen. That was fast. Her heart hammered in her chest, until she realized it was from Harris.

  Harris: Missed you tonight. Hope you’re feeling better.

  Miriam felt a pang of guilt. She’d abandoned Harris and put all their work tasks on him that night because she was too chicken to see Silas in person—though apparently not too chicken to text. She typed out a quick reply.

  Miriam: Thanks! Sorry to have put everything on you.

  Harris: I’m happy I could help.

  Miriam stared at the words on the screen. Harris was too good to her. She knew he had a thing for her, and that was most likely the reason he was so willing to go out of his way to help her. She didn’t want to be the type of girl who exploited guys’ feelings. She hoped Harris knew that she didn’t expect something for nothing. Just in case, she replied again.

  Miriam: I seriously owe you one.

  There. That way it was one coworker helping another coworker. She would pay him back, and then they’d be even.

  Harris: No, you seriously don’t.

  She could almost hear the teasing in his voice as he echoed back some of her same words. Miriam tried to formulate a reply when another text popped up. This time it was from Silas.

  Silas: I was missing my muse.

  Miriam pressed her fingers to her lips. His muse. That’s what he used to call her back in the day. The words should have hurt, but they had the opposite effect. They excited her. She wanted to be his muse.

  Miriam: I was watching at home. Shouldn’t that count?

  Silas: I think that only works for away games.

  She hated the way her lips curved into a smile at this. She definitely hated the way she pulled one leg under her butt and sat up straight as she eagerly sent her response.

  Miriam: I promise to watch the next away game to make up for it (since that does count).

  Silas: You’d better. Back to back losses would suck.

  Silas: Hey, I gotta get out there for the autograph session. I’ll message you after.

  This was dangerous territory. The smart thing would have be
en to tell him no—leave the conversation where it was. Miriam wasn’t smart.

  Miriam: Sounds good.

  That impulsive message showed Miriam just how stupid she was. Silas never texted back. Miriam finally gave up and went to bed after waiting for longer than reasonable. She felt more uncertain than ever.

  The next morning, Miriam woke to a string of texts from Silas. He apologized profusely saying he got caught up with fans and then planning for the upcoming away game. She knew it was all part of being on a professional sports team, but it still felt like rejection.

  Unfortunately, things only got worse when she showed up for work.

  There were a dozen roses waiting for her on her desk when she arrived. Miriam quickly looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was standing there. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if Greg found out that Silas had sent her flowers a week after their conversation about boundaries.

  The only solution would be to hide the roses in her car or throw them in the dumpster that was behind their office building. Dumpster felt like too big of a risk. Greg might still see them if he took something out. While it was unlikely the general manager would empty the garbage, Miriam was unwilling to take the chance. Car it was. When she lifted the bouquet to take them to the parking lot, the attached card fell to her desk. Likely filled with more apologies, she decided she would read it quickly before hiding the evidence.

  She glanced at the doorway one more time and ripped open the small envelope. Her breath caught when she realized that the note and the flowers weren’t from Silas.

  They were from Harris.

  In his familiar scrawl, the card said that he hoped she was able to rest over the weekend and ended with an invitation to go to dinner on Friday night—the same night as a watch party for the Storm’s away game. The fact that Harris had suggested a restaurant miles away from the bar that usually aired MASL games wasn’t lost on her.