Page 103 of The Penalty

He groans and steps back as I move. “How doyouhave something inmyroom?”

“Goalie magic, obviously.” I open the closet and find the white box that’s decorated like a little house tucked behind some other shit and give it to him.

“Build-A-Bear?” He seems confused.

“Open it!”

Rhys takes the box and sits on the bed, so I follow and sit next to him, too excited to see what he thinks.

He peels back the flaps that create the handle and glances inside. Pulling out the fuzzy brown bear in a hockey jersey, he sees it and smiles.

“A teddy bear?”

“So you can have Teddy Bear hugs any time you want one. But that’s not the best part, look.” I reach for the foot with the store’s logo on it and squeeze it. A recorded message starts playing.

“I just start talking? Oh shiiii-takii mushrooms, cuddle snakes, Crocs, when you smile at me, Oreo’s obviously, snow people, sewer gators.”

Rhys laughs and it flutters in my stomach.

“The lady asked if I wanted to try again but I told her no, those are all my favorite things. There were kids in there so I couldn’t say anything inappropriate.”

With a big smile on his face, he cups my neck and presses his forehead to my cheek.

“This is perfect.”

“Obviously. I only give the best gifts.”

Rhys lifts the box and pulls out a piece of paper before putting the bear inside. It’s a birth certificate for the bear, with his name, Tendy Bear, on it. He’s clearly a goalie.

The alarm I had set on my phone goes off, jerking me and Rhys awake with its shrill old telephone sound.

“I hate your alarm,” Rhys grumbles.

“It works though.” I get up and dig in my fancy pants for the stupid thing then turn it off. Instead of crawling back into bed where it’s warm and cozy and smells like Rhys, I get dressed inhis clothes. They’re a little tight but oh well. I’m just going to practice. He even ordered me some Crocs last night so I don’t have to put on the torture devices again.

“Do you really not have socks?”

I slip on my new Summerset Crocs and give him my most offended look. “I do not wear socks with Crocs. How dare you.”

He sits up and scrubs a hand over his face. “Let me get this straight?—”

“You can’t cause you’re not straight.”

“—wearing those abominations is okay but putting socks on is going too far?”

“Only dads and sociopaths wear socks with Crocs or sandals.”

“I’m not awake enough for this.” He shakes his head, and I pull on a hoodie he found for me, determined to not take it personally since he’s evidently not thinking clearly. “Come kiss me.”

“Apologize for thinking I would wear socks with these.” I cross my arms and give him a stern look. Wait. That’s a dad look. Oh no. Am I becoming a dad?

“What’s that look for? You look scared.” Rhys stands in front of me and puts his hands on my shoulders.

“Am I becoming a dad because you breed me? Am I going to start wearing cargo shorts and flip-flops with socks and getting angry at technology?”

I watch Rhys try to rein in the laugh he clearly wants to let out and force the smile from his lips but I can still see it. “Being bred does not turn you into a dad.”

“Promise?”

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