Page 44 of The Penalty

Out here it’s me and Netty White against the other team. Sure, my team helps by keeping the puck down the ice but when it comes down to it, it’s me. If we lose, it’s my fault.

I can’t let them down…

The game starts with a bang. Our guys getting a goal in the first two minutes means the Gods are out for blood. I don’t have to see their faces clearly to know it. They’re like sharks when a drop of blood hits the water. They sniff out the weakness and push until it breaks.

All hockey players do it. If there is a weak link in the chain, they’ll break it. Every. Time.

“Come on, Netty, don’t fail me now.” I tap the uprights with my stick and fill as much of the space as I can with my body. The blue and silver bastards are racing toward me, looking for my weakness, trying to read me, but I’m focused as fuck.

In the last thirty seconds of the first period, the Gods rush the goal, it’s a mad dash of sticks and skates. I can’t see shit, I’m hit about a dozen times, and I’m frustrated as fuck when Rizz falls on me, allowing the Gods to get a fucking goal.

“Good fucking job, asshole!” I yell at the kid. Anger and guilt building to explosive levels before I can get it through my head. “Way to fuck up my stats! Keep your fucking skates on the fucking ice!”

The buzzer for the end of the period sounds and we trudge to the locker room. But I’m fuming.

Taking my helmet off, I drop it on the bench and suck down some water.

Get it together. Getting mad at the kid isn’t going to fix anything. Own your shit.

I roll my neck and take some deep breaths. I want to see if Rhys has messaged, but I don’t dare. If he did or if he didn’t, both could fuck me up more. This game just needs to be over so I can get away from the temptation he is.

“All right boys, all right.” Coach stands on a bench to get our attention. He starts in with his pep talk but I have to piss, which is the worst when I’m all geared up. There’s a bunch of layers I have to get off, but I do since I can’t be distracted by a full bladder for the rest of the game.

I take a piss and get myself put back together when Coach is about done. The trainers are checking in on everyone, making sure no one is bleeding, and checking on sore spots. Not that anyone complains about pain. We’re all too high on adrenaline to notice anyway.

We get the two-minute warning and head back to the ice. I toss my water bottle on top of Netty White and give myself a stern talking to.

“Keep your head in the game. Blue jerseys arenotsexy. And no matter what happens, don’t kiss anyone while on the ice.”

I hit my helmet and shake my head, ready for the puck drop.

The second period goes by in a blink but crawls at the same time. The lines switch out every sixty seconds, keeping everyone as fresh as possible. Our boys are hungry for the win. Their boysare too. It’s a battle to the death. A few fights break out and I have to hold myself back when Rhys is part of one. The little shit started it and I wanted to choke him for it.

Doesn’t he know I’m protective?

It will make me look bad to the boys if I get involved!

Five minutes in the penalty box was apparently not enough because he’s got that pettyI’m about to fuck something uplook on his face. For a split second, it’s aimed at me. My heart pounds and I watch the way he moves, anticipating his plan.

He’s fucking with me. Playing with me. Trying to psych me out. And if I’m not careful, he’s going to succeed. I can’t let him. I can’t let my team down.

Twice he takes a shot on goal but is denied. I swear it makes him more determined.

By the third period, we’re still tied at two to two, but the boys can’t keep them out of our attack zone. I’m sweaty and exhausted and ready to snap. Shredder gets tossed in the sin bin, giving the Gods a fucking power play and here comes the bane of my existence and the inspiration for my hard-ons. The glint in his eyes tells me I’m fucked, but I square up against him.

He passes the puck back and forth between the other guys on his line, toying with me, and looking for an opening in our defense. Blondie trips, giving them exactly what they need. Rhys flies up the ice, the puck is passed to him. He fakes me out, then flings it home. The lamp lights up and the buzzer sounds.

My heart thuds painfully in my chest.

Fuck.

My stomach churns and I might be sick. I keep my ass on the ice for a second, just to breathe. Did I let him score? Did I intentionally misread him and let him have that? How can I ever know the real answer?

“Tendy, you good man?” Porter stops in front of me and offers me a hand up.

“Strawberries and cream.”

“Is that some kind of code, or did you hit your head?” He looks me in the eye, like he could tell if I have brain damage.

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