Page 61 of The Penalty

As she’s walking out the door, I look back, catching sight of the weird little creatures she shares a room with.

“Forgetting something.”

She turns back to me, lips reddened and swollen from my kiss, eyes extra starry. “What?”

I nod toward the cages, and she comes rushing back. “Loki. So sorry baby. The bad man made me forget about you. How rude.”

The latch on the cage snaps open with a loud clang and she reaches in to scoop up the slithery little thing. He snakes his way up her arm to perch on her shoulder. I could swear his little pointy whiskered face is glaring at me, but that’s impossible.

I’m jealous of the ferret as she strokes her hand down his furry length. “Want to pet him,” she says, advancing on me.

“Nope.” I back up a step, throwing my hands in the air. I’m not ready for that. I can handle being in the same room as him. Progress. But I don’t think I could handle touching him, no matter how soft and small he is.

“Suit yourself.”

She puts Loki down on the floor by her bed and walks toward me.

“Hurry up.” Her hands are shooing me out the door. “He’s gotta stay in here until we finish making dinner. He’s way too much of a pain in the ass while we’re cooking. I’ve been tripped more times than I can count. He’ll have to stay in my room until after. Then he can roam free.”

There’s an indignant squeak as she shuts the door before he can escape.

“Now. How are you in a kitchen?” she asks.

“Decent.” I’ve had to learn to look after myself, and since I got to college, I’ve spent some time watching cooking shows and reading recipe books. I’ve learned some things about making food. Something about the process is soothing. It makesme think about my childhood and reminds me it doesn’t have to be like that. Always a little hungry. Sometimes a lot. Never knowing if it’s going to be a good eating week or a bad one. Leaving a decent family who kept me well fed to move in with one who doesn’t always remember to give me lunch money.

“Good. Because I’m terrible. I’ve always wanted to learn how to cook, but I’m a hot mess. That’s why we got salad duty. I’m not to be trusted with the oven. So, you’ll balance it out. Maybe they’ll even let us boil the water.”

“A hundred percent no, sweetie.” Georgia is looking at me with suspicion. “Last time I let you do that, we had to spend a week scrubbing the stove top.”

“But Dev...”

“Is a wild card,” Blake finishes my sentence. “No offense man, but we can’t trust Cece, and we don’t know you yet.”

“None taken.” I shake my head. “Whatever you need.”

“Okay, grab the romaine, cucumbers, and green peppers out of the fridge. Start chopping.” It’s Blake again. He’s clearly in charge of the activities in the kitchen at their place.

He tosses me a bright yellow apron with sunflowers and a little ruffle around the edges. I know he’s fucking with me. Thinks the big tough hockey player won’t stoop to wearing an apron like this, but I’m happy to prove him wrong.

Cece bursts out laughing as she reaches back to tie the plain black one around her waist. I can’t resist stepping in to help, taking a moment to smooth her hair off her neck and bending down to place a gentle kiss on the back of her neck. Goosebumps form under my touch.

“Get to work lovebirds,” Annie says. Apparently, she finished her set up job and now she’s sliding the cutlery drawer open.

She rattles it around, gathering up supplies and heads over to the expensive looking dark wood table beside the big window. The last gasp of the sun for the day is casting a rosy glow through the windows, and it’s a perfect picture of domesticity.

Georgia joins Blake by the oven and the easy familiarity with which they move around the kitchen is surprising. Anna and Blake were the only ones who lived together before, and yet they’ve already formed this little easy family.

For me, the only time I’ve ever experienced that kind of dynamic is on a hockey team. The way sport binds you together and the shared goal of winning unites you in a special sort of way. But even though I’ve been on several hockey teams before, it’s never been quite as intense as with the Lightning. I miss Seb, and Woodsy, even Jacks, who delighted in driving me crazy. I hope there’s something similar in my team when I go pro, because I’m not a pro at making friends in general.

“Can you grab the Parmesan out of the fridge, Dev?” Cece asks.

I’m rooting around in the fridge looking for a container and coming up empty.

I can feel her presence behind me before she speaks. “What’s taking so long?” Her head appears under my arm, and she joins in the search.

“Are you sure you have Parmesan? I don’t see the container.”

She reaches past me to pull open one of the drawers. “It’s right here.”

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