Page 55 of The Penalty

I grab my helmet, jumping up from the bench. Never thought I’d be glad to see angry Coach, but it’s a temporary reprieve from my best friend’s scrutiny.

“We’ve got some VIP donors and alumni in the stands tonight, so best behavior. No fighting, no dirty play. You can save that for our away game next week.”

Hail snickers, giving Grant a shoulder check as he walks by. Coach doesn’t catch it, so I step in, arms crossed over my chest, glowering down at the little shit of a rookie.

He backs off Grant, but pretends he’s not scared of me, puffing his chest out.

The game starts off fine. We’re playing Boston. The only problem is they’re an aggressive team. And since my job is to keep them in check, it’s going to be twice as hard to keep things clean for Coach and the donors. I wish we didn’t have to care about these things, but someone has to pay for the fancy arena and all the new equipment that flows through the system.

There are problems from the start. They come in fast and hot, clipping Cole behind the refs back barely a couple minutes into the first period. Beau’s got his hands full keeping their other D-man off Hail, so I swoop in to meteout some punishment. I push the offender away from where he’s harassing Cole, shoving him into the boards.

Backing off, I scan the ice, racing up to the action and then hanging back a bit. Cole swept up as soon as he was clear, but they got in his way again, tangling him up while someone snatches the puck from between his legs.

Skate blades cut the ice in a flurry of snow as we all push ourselves to the limit to get to the goal. They’ve got too much of a lead, though. Their wingers are tossing the puck back and forth, searching for a shot.

Beau gets up in their center’s grill, trying to steal the puck, but he tosses it to the right. Beau doesn’t react. He’s leaning in, shouting at the opposing team member. Shit. He never loses it, but it looks like he’s about to drop his gloves. I have no idea what that guy said to antagonize our cool, collected captain, but it must have been worse than the usual chirping. I’m heading over to help when a collective groan from the crowd sinks my stomach as the horn blares, and our net lights up. JJ. Fuck. He let one in. And none of us did anything to stop it. We haven’t played this bad all year. Something is off.

The other team is sharing a victory hug. Coach is screaming at us to get our heads out of our asses.

“Fuck, Beau. What the hell was that about?” Usually, he’s the one dressing us down when we fuck up, but as his best friend, I have to take over the job when he loses it.

“He was talking trash about my sister.” Beau blows out a breath, shaking his head. “I know better than to let that get to me but fuck man. My sister is off limits.”

I can’t even focus on the warning in his tone. Some asshole was talking trash about Cece. “What did he say?”

“I can’t even repeat it.”

“What did he say?” I repeat. Needing to know. It can’t be worse than all the things running through my head.

“He said he heard she gives good head, so he might try her out later. Fat bitches are always the best at sucking dick, and from what he’s seen, she’s got nice tits.”

“From what he’s seen? The fuck?” My entire body is on fire, trembling. My head is swimming with a level of rage I haven’t felt in a long time. “Why is he still mobile?”

“I can’t let that shit get to me,” Beau says. “I know better. It’s all bullshit talk. My sister would never let that piece of shit near her, but it still gets me going. I think he’s seen those pictures of her from the summer.”

“You’re right, he wouldn’t.” Because I would disassemble him tooth by tooth if he laid even a pinky finger on her.

The buzzer sounds the end of the first period, and we head off the ice.

The disgusting words are still running through my head when we get back out there, and I am laser focused on number 33. The one who clearly doesn’t value his face.

“I’ll look after it, Beau.” I tell him as we settle in for a lecture.

“What did I tell you, boys? You’ve been playing decent all season and today you choose to play like I let a pack of dusters on the ice. Beau, you should have gotten that puck. Hail, get your head out of your ass and pass the puck. You shouldn’t haveeven had possession when they stole it from you. Get back out there and smarten the fuck up or you’re all losing your spots.”

Beau stands up, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “You’re right. I let myself get distracted, and it cost us a goal, but there’s still time to turn this thing around. They’re playing like a bunch of thugs because they’re not as good as us. We got this.”

The agreement is not as enthusiastic as usual. Apparently, the rough start to the game has taken its toll on us.

“We got this!” He raises his voice this time.

“You better,” Coach says.

It’s fine. They were bullshit words. I don’t need to make that asshole pay. That’s what he wants. To rile us up so bad we get ourselves into trouble. I’m trying to convince myself, but my hands are still a little shaky.

The second period starts out a little smoother. Cole and Hail have slipped back into a smooth rhythm. Their teamwork has been smoother since Beau got them doing some extra practice together. Not as smooth as Seb, and Woodsy, and Jacks last year, but they were the dream team, and that kind of chemistry takes time to build. I miss those guys.

Beau and I are working the back end, cutting back and forth, trying to keep the way clear for our offensive line when it happens. Number 33 gets handsy again with Cole when he’s trying to receive a pass to make a run for the net. Beau and I advance on him like a couple of tigers slinking up on their prey. We get in close, pressuring him.

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