Page 75 of Match Penalty

"Oh… Penelope Matthews is always up to something," I wink.

The opportunity comes later that afternoon. I'm heading to the media room with some paperwork when I spot JP coming out of the training room. He's alone—no teammates, no staff, no convenient interruptions.

This time, he doesn't see me coming.

"We need to talk," I say, stepping directly into his path.

He stops short, his eyes widening slightly before his expression smooths into something carefully neutral. "Cammy—"

"Don't 'Cammy' me," I snap. "Four days of silence? Really? After everything that happened at Oakley's?"

His jaw tightens. "I sent you a text."

"A text?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "You mean your cryptic 'this isn’t going to work' message? That's not an explanation, JP. That's not even close to good enough. The last time you did this, I got over two dozen text messages and a handful of rambling voicemails. So don't tell me your one text was good enough."

He shifts his weight, his eyes darting past me like he's searching for an escape route. "I can't do this right now."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both." His voice is rough, strained. "We're at work, Cammy."

"At work?" The words taste bitter on my tongue. "The same place where you fucked me on top of the Zamboni and almost missed media because you had me bent over in the broom closet? Is that the work you're referring to?"

Something flashes in his eyes—pain, maybe, or regret—but it's gone before I can be sure. "It's better this way—for you."

"Oh… how sweet, you're doing this for me?" I step closer, close enough to catch the familiar scent of his cologne. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're running away. Again."

He flinches at that, and for a moment, I think I've broken through whatever wall he's built between us. But then his expression hardens.

"I'm not running," he says quietly. "I'm protecting you."

"From what?" I demand. "From Oliver Garcia? From a bar fight that wasn't even your fault. Or from yourself?"

He doesn't answer, but his silence says enough.

"You don't get to make that decision for me," I tell him, my voice shaking with anger and something else—something that feels dangerously close to heartbreak. "You don't get to decide what's best for me without even talking to me about it."

"Cammy—"

"No." I cut him off, stepping back. "You want to protect me? Fine. But don't pretend this is about anything other than you being too scared to face whatever this is between us. You sabotaged this as soon as it got real. Just like San Diego. I guess your text wasn't full of shit after all… I was right not to trust you."

I turn to leave, then pause, looking back at him one last time. "You know what the worst part is? I actually thought this time would be different."

The walk back to my office is a blur, my vision clouded by tears I refuse to let fall. I've barely made it through the door when my phone buzzes.

Brynn:Just a reminder to meet after work for dress shopping.

I stare at the message, thinking about the auction, about JP, about everything that's led us here.

I need a night with the girls outside of the walls of this stadium, dress shopping and forgetting everything between him and me.

Me: I’ll be there.

Because if JP wants to push me away, fine. I'll give him exactly what he wants.

And I'll look damn good doing it.

Chapter Twenty-Two

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