Page 4 of Match Penalty

Penelope sighs, her fingers tightening around her cup until her knuckles whiten. "Phil thinks it's time for a fresh vision, new energy. He believes the Kauffmans have the resources and connections to take the Hawkeyes to the next level."

"And you're okay with this?" I ask, watching her closely. Penelope Matthews doesn't rattle easily—I've seen her handle trade deadlines, playoff pressure, and media storms without breaking a sweat—but the tension in her shoulders and the way she keeps adjusting her grip on her drink tells a different story.

Her gaze drifts to the framed photo on her desk—her, Phil, and her father, Sam Roberts, taken at her first game as GM, when she stepped into her father's shoes, taking over the General Manager position. The glass reflects the morning light, highlighting their proud smiles.

"Phil’s decision caught me off guard," Penelope admits softly. "We had a system, and now everything's changing—Phil’s gone, Slade’s retiring, and Coach Haynes is still finding his footing. It’s a lot to juggle."

My chest tightens at the mention of Slade Matthews—her husband, the team's captain and center, and the last of the original players. This season is already shaping up to be one of transition, and I can feel the weight of it settling over the room like a heavy blanket.

I nod, keeping my tone gentle. "The Hawkeyes are strong. We've weathered change before. If Phil's selling to Everett, he must feel confident about it." I flip through my notebook to the section where I've been tracking potential roster moves. "Besides, we've got solid prospects coming up, and the new training facility plans are already approved."

Now I'm beginning to wonder if the new practice rink that was announced earlier this summer is actually part of Everett's big offer to show Phil that he intends to take care of a team that Phil holds dear. But then it has me wondering what other changes are on the horizon for the Hawkeyes.

Penelope smiles faintly, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "That's what I love about you, Cammy. Always thinking three steps ahead. You're going to run this place someday, you know that?"

"That's what Dad keeps saying," I laugh, but the compliment means more than I let on. The truth is, Penelope is my idol, and I would love nothing more than a chance to prove that I can follow in her footsteps. "But for now, I'd settle for getting through this transition smoothly. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Her expression brightens slightly, and I know I've just volunteered for something big. "Actually, yes. The Kids with Cancer charity auction is in six weeks. I promised Autumn I'd handle the player donations and memorabilia now that she's on bed rest with her pregnancy, and Briggs doesn't want to leave her side. But with everything else on my plate..."

"I'll take care of it," I say quickly, straightening my spine at the chance to prove myself. The foundation holds two events each year: an auction and a gala. I've attended both over the last four years, with Autumn giving me several projects to help with set up. Since Juliet, Coach Haynes' wife, is the Hawkeyes official party planner handling the event set up, all I need to take care of are the auction items. "Whatever you need."

"You're sure? Everett wants to host it here at the stadium instead of the convention center like usual. Juliet is looking forward to the challenge, so I'm not concerned with the set up, but Autumn is hoping to double the silent auction's donations to fund the condos for families going through treatment near the cancer center. That's going to require a lot more donors to show up and bigger ticket items for the silent auction."

I'm already making notes, mind racing with possibilities. "Actually, that could work in our favor. The stadium gives us more space, better atmosphere. We could do interactive elements, maybe even something on the ice—"

My words cut off when I notice a folder on her desk with a name written on it. A name that I've tried to forget over the last year and a half, with little to no success.

My pen stalls on the page, a drop of ink bleeding into the paper.

"JP Dumont," I utter, unintentionally saying it out loud.

The name slips out before I can stop it, and suddenly, I’m drowning in memories: JP’s cocky smile, the puck with 'Dinner?' scrawled in sharpie, the way he always seemed to find me in crowded arenas as if drawn by some unshakable pull. And then San Diego—the night I thought maybe, just maybe, there was more to him—until I woke up alone, realizing how wrong I’d been.

I still remember that night— his calloused hockey player hands, caressing every inch of me, the intensity of his blue eyes, the way his laugh sounded, carefree and easy... Only to find out I'd been played by one of the biggest players in the league.

Worst still—I knew better.

My dad has always warned me of hockey players—especially players like Jon Paul.

"Cammy?" Penelope's voice breaks through my thoughts. "You okay?"

"Fine," I say quickly, forcing my eyes back to my notebook. But my imagination quickly conjures up the image of JP in a Hawkeyes jersey —an easy confidence in his stride as he walks through my stadium, imagining the way he'll carry himself in here like he's already part of the team. Like this is where he's meant to be.

I shake my head, breaking the thought from my mind.

The words hit me like a cold plunge. Three years of him pursuing me from behind enemy lines only to leave me in that guest bedroom to wake up alone, and now he's here. In my space? The professional distance I've carefully maintained suddenly feels paper-thin.

"When did we—" I start, but Penelope's already nodding.

"Coach Haynes confirmed him for a Professional Tryout Contract a couple of weeks ago to see how his knee holds up and how he does with team," she says, her tone cautious, watching me like she's waiting for me to crack. "He's been practicing with the team for over two weeks."

Two weeks?

He's been in this building for two weeks, skating on our ice, and I didn't know? The betrayal cuts deep—not just from him being here, but from my own father keeping it from me. Dad's the special team's goalie coach, so he's been working with JP this whole time. We've had lunch twice since then, and he never said a word. Not that my dad knows the extent of our history, but he warned me about JP the first time he saw him stop to talk to me at a Hall-of-Fame induction party that we were both at years ago. JP wasn't subtle with his flirting, and my dad wasn't subtle about mentioning that he doesn't want me anywhere near any Jon Paul Dumont's—junior or senior.

If my dad knew about the night I spent with JP in San Diego, there's no way he would have let Coach Haynes go through with signing him—PTO or otherwise.

"Right," I nod, fighting to keep my expression in check. "Wasn't there some controversy with his DUI case in San Diego? I'm surprised that Phil would have approved JP with the "family-friendly" clause in the contract. And his knee injury was bad enough that his old team didn't re-sign him, right? Can a goalie even come back from something like that?"

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