Page 13 of Match Penalty

Perfect timing. I position my thumb over the power button to turn it off but then stop.

"The former Blue Devils goalie, whose promising NHL career ended after a DUI accident and knee injury two years ago, has been signed to a PTO contract by Coach Ryker Haynes despite concerns from fans and sports analysts alike. Sports director Tom Summers weighs in."

The screen splits to show a middle-aged man in a suit too tight across the shoulders. "Look, Dumont was a rising star—rookie of the year contender, three shutouts in his first season. But with that accident, the drinking and the party reputation he had, not to mention the female passenger who ended up in the ER… There are too many red flags. Coach Haynes is biting off more than he can chew as the new coach for the Seattle hockey team. The question remains: can Dumont overcome his past, stepping out of his father's shadow, or is this a mistake for the Hawkeyes?"

I switch off the TV, letting out a slow breath. They love dragging up ancient history, especially when they don't know the whole story. Not that I can tell them the truth about that night—I made a promise, and I plan to keep this one. Even though it’s costing me everything I've ever wanted.

My phone buzzes on the kitchen counter. I get up off the sofa to retrieve it and then see Angelica's name flash across the screen.

Right on cue.

Somehow, she always knows when I'm feeling beat down… and then likes to rub salt in it.

"You're in Seattle?" Her voice is sharp, worried. "Are you insane?"

"Good evening to you, too," I say, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. "And yes, I'm in Seattle. On a PTO with the Hawkeyes. You know, the one you got me.”

Angelica Ludwig, one of the only people on earth who I trust, and my temporary sports agent… though the last one is against my better judgement. I have to hand it to her, she pulled a rabbit out of a hat with this one. Getting me onto the Hawkeyes ice for PTO. It wasn't an easy feat. Nor was getting my DUI expunged, but she managed both.

I should be grateful, but I know she's doing all of this out of guilt. Guilt that I wish she'd let go of to focus on her own life.

"Yeah, I know I got it for you but I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to take it when you had teams ready to sign you immediately,” she says, her voice gruff with annoyance.

“Stupid? Jesus Ang, don’t hold back–tell me how you really feel.”

She lets out a dramatic sigh. “JP, this was supposed to be a quiet rebuild, not a spectacle.” Her frustration is evident through the tightening of her voice. For some reason she thinks she holds superiority over me just because she tutored me in high school a whole lifetime ago. "You’re playing for your ex-team’s biggest rival, under a coach who has every reason to hate you—and your father. The media’s already circling, and you’re giving them front-row seats to your mess. This is exactly what we were trying to avoid. Remember what I said?"

"Fly under the radar—yeah, I know," I say, though I already regret mocking her.

"This isn’t flying under the radar, JP," Angelica snaps. "You’re training under Coach Wrenley—the guy you fought weeks before the crash and split his lip open. The guy who used to play with your dad, andhatedhim. You know what kind of attention this is going to bring? You're putting a target on your back—and on mine. If they start digging back up the DUI case…"

Angelica's been like a dog with a bone about getting me back into the pros, and she made it happen. I'll give it to her, she's been impressive as my stand-in sports agent after mine dropped me a year and a half ago when I lost my NHL contract. If she wasn't committed to saving the world with her lawyering skills, she could kill it as an agent for pro athletes.

"I know. We had a plan. I didn't stick to it," I confess.

She lets out another deep sigh that tells me that she's already coming to terms with my decision. "How's the apartment?" she asks, changing the subject. "Better than that shoebox in Toronto?"

"Hey," I say, feigning insult. "For the record, I never complained about my shoebox. You're the one that pulled me out of it, remember?"

I wasn't sure if I was ready to try out this year, but Angelica pushed me to do it and once she sent me the PTO for Seattle, she didn't have to do any more convincing.

I glance around at the floor-to-ceiling windows, modern furniture, and empty walls. The place screams temporary, like everything else has been since the accident. But I'm determined to stay this time.

"That's great. You'll have plenty of time to live in a shoebox after you secure your place as the best goalie to ever play the game." she insists. “Speaking of? How's it going with Coach Wrenley?"

My stomach tightens at Seven's name. All Cammy would have to do is tell her dad what happened between us that night at Cooper’s beach house, and I'm sure he'd find a way to get me benched for life. "He didn't break my nose the day I skated out onto his ice, so I'd say he doesn't know about me and Cammy."

"Wait. You didn't take this PTO contract just because of her, did you?" Angelica asks suddenly.

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Dumont. I already know that you're too smart for your own good. You let your stepdad waste his money on paying me to tutor you because you sure as hell didn't need it." She pauses. "Cammy. Seven's daughter. The girl you've been chasing around for the last four plus years—the girl from Cooper's post-game party. Ring any bells? The one who made you stop being such a player and pull your head out of your ass."

"Yeah, okay, I get it. You have a good memory of my greatest failures. By the way, that's your worst trait."

I turn to the window. It's dark out now, the lights of Seattle glittering outside my window. For a moment, I'm back in that guest room, the glow of the moon outside the second story window casting a blue hue over Cammy's skin as she told me about her dreams of working in hockey, of carving out a place in the Hawkeyes family like her dad.

"JP, she could blow our secret—"

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