Page 43 of The Penalty

“Bye, puck boy.” It’s Georgia again, getting in her two cents.

“Bye, ghost girl.”

The redhead tilts her head back with a raspy laugh much better suited to a chain smoking grandmother than a southern belle. “I like you, puck boy. You should keep him, Cece.”

Cece mentioned her roommate is into the paranormal, and this morning she had some podcast playing at breakfast. Twowomen talking about ghostly encounters. It was pretty fun, not that I believe in ghosts. There are enough monsters in the real world without worrying about what might be lurking in some other plane of existence.

Normally I don’t mind the bus. You get the occasional weirdo causing a fuss, and it doesn’t always smell the best, but I’ve smelled worse than a little bus funk. There are benefits to my six feet five inches of muscle. Nobody bothers me. Unless they recognize me from the team and want to chat hockey.

Today I’m fidgeting with my bag and shifting in my seat. Usually, I have my comfort book in my hand to hide behind. But I finished my last read and haven’t hit the library yet, so I’m at loose ends, staring at the slow progress of tidy houses as the bus passes by.

I’m on my feet, hanging onto the railing with a loose hold three stops early. My body sways to the rhythm as we hit a pothole as easy as if I was balancing on my skates when we finally ease up to the stop near our house. Usually, I’m the only one who takes advantage of this. Beau’s got his fancy ride, JJ and Grant each have a decent car, and even Cole has one now. Jacks offered me his old car, Mabel, before he moved off, but I said no. No point in keeping something that’s going to cost me more money than I have. I can handle the bus or hitch a ride with any of the other guys. So, Cole ended up with the beater.I never told him I got the first offer from Jacks. What would be the point of that?

The sidewalk jars my knees as I leap down, skipping the stairs. I’m in such a hurry. However, now that I’m here staring down the road to our house, I’m wondering why I was in such a hurry to disembark. There will be questions. I haven’t been out with a girl all semester.

Even dragging my feet, my legs cover so much ground that I’m staring down the cheerful front doorway too soon. Dragging in a deep breath, I slip my key into the lock. Before I’ve had time to turn it, the door swings open, and I stumble inside, hand still attached to the key in the lock.

“Lucy!!! Where have you been all night? I thought you were going to be late for practice.” It’s JJ, of course. Our overenthusiastic goalie can’t help himself. Normally I’d shoot Beau a look, and he’d dart in for the save, but I’m not so eager to look him in the eyes after the things I did to his sister last night.Fuck, what were you thinking?

As if I was telegraphing my thoughts, he steps in behind JJ, grabbing him by the shoulder and tossing him to the side. “Leave him alone.”

“Thanks.” I mutter, still not glancing up from my feet.

“Seriously, though. Finally broke your dry spell? I thought maybe you were going with abstinence to improve your game.”

That gets my attention. I glance up to see my best friend with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s got a cocky grin on his polished face. I’m trying not to compare to his sister’s. I can’thelp myself. His hair is a much darker shade of blond than her pale locks, but they’ve got the same piercing blue eyes. He’s obviously much taller, but they share a nose straight in that blue-blooded kind of way. He has a pronounced bump in the middle that didn’t come naturally, though. Broken noses are a hazard of the game, and lots of us share that feature.

“You think my game is off?” I can’t help the worry in my tone. Deep down, I know he’s joking around, but I can’t help the constant edge of worry that rides me. Always afraid I’m not good enough. That I’m going to get rejected before I even get a chance to prove myself.

He tilts his head to the side, studying me as if he can’t quite figure out if I’m serious. “Obviously not. I don’t think your game has ever been this strong. You’ve been showing the rest of the team up every single time we hit the ice. You may not think I’ve noticed, since I’ve been dealing with those other two jokers so much, but I have.”

I blow a breath out, but my shoulders stay tense. “Good.” I nod, brushing by him to head up to my room. He claps me on the back as I walk by, but otherwise leaves me alone.

“What? You’re not going to make him spill? I want to know who he went home with?” JJ comes bouncing back over, ignoring the vague threat in Beau’s eyes. “Was she hot? I bet she was a redhead. The quiet ones always like them spicy. Maybe a brunette, no blonde. I think Lucy is definitely into blondes. It’s that devil and angel thing.”

My head snaps up to glare at JJ, but he just laughs, even as I’m balling my fist up and slamming it into my palm.

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner. A hundred percent he’s got a blonde under his skin. What can I say? It’s one of my special skills. It’s like I’m some kind of sexual psychic. I can always tell what shade of hussy someone got inside. If you know what I mean?” He gives an exaggerated wink, while he pumps his hips at me, and my limbs get all hot and shaky as I step toward him.

Beau’s hand lands on my shoulder to restrain me from seriously damaging our star goalie. I know he’s trying to signal to me he’ll deal with it, but I’ve never been so fucking furious at our dumbass teammate. Sure, he never shuts his mouth, and has zero filter, but I usually don’t let it get to me this hard. But the thought of him turning Cece into a dirty joke enrages me.

Beau pushes past me to confront him. “First. What is wrong with you? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve been playing goal without a helmet and taken too many pucks to the skull. Second. Who says hussy? And third. If I ever hear you disrespect a woman like that in my house again, you’ll be out on your ass faster than you can say Zamboni.”

JJ’s mouth falls open in a comical oh. It’s not unusual for Beau to lay down the law as the team captain and owner of the house we live in, but I’ve never heard him threaten to kick anyone out.

“Sorry, Captain.”

“And apologize to Lucy as well.”

Our humbled goalie turns back to me. “Sorry, Lucy.”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

“Thanks.” The word is a mumble on the air as I dart past Beau, heading for the stairs and the safety of my room.

Thank fuck. I burst through my door, stretch to the top of the bookshelf, and pull down my ancient copy of The Boys of Winter. It’s the one thing I’ve kept from my childhood, and I read it any time I need a reminder. Of how and why I survived this life. It’s this sport and the one foster parent who cared enough to find me an outlet that wouldn’t land me in jail. The title is barely legible anymore, cover scratched, and pages torn, but it’s still my most valuable possession.

Before I crack the bent spine to lose myself in the pages, I pull the sheaf of papers Cece handed me out of my bag, idly flipping through her artwork, and it sucks me right in.

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