Page 17 of Match Penalty

“You don’t sound thrilled,” Brynn observes, her sharp gaze not missing a beat.

"It's going to be fine. Cammy is taking over the auction planning, so that's huge."

Brynn grins. “I know, I'm so excited. We're meeting in a couple of days so that I can help.”

“You’ve got a manuscript due to your publisher next month,” Penelope counters, with a smirk. “This better not be you finding an excuse to procrastinate. The last thing we need is your agent calling me to complain.”

Brynn laughs, holding her hands up in surrender. “Fair point. I'm just going to get Cammy on her way, then I'll back off, I swear.”

We fall into a comfortable silence, watching as puck after puck flies toward JP. He blocks most of them, diving and lunging with precision, though there are close calls. My dad’s voice cuts through the arena, sharp and precise. JP doesn’t flinch, doesn’t argue, only adjusts his stance like he’s been waiting for this criticism his whole life.

The same way I used to…

"Your dad’s not making it easy for him," Penelope observes, her sharp eyes tracking every save and miss.

"He never makes it easy for anyone," I reply, keeping my tone neutral.

But as JP lunges for a low shot, his mask tilting up to glance at the stands, my stomach twists. Seven’s high standards are nothing compared to what JP and I left unsaid.

I force out a hum of agreement.

I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t even be watching.

JP glances up, his eyes locking on mine through the plexiglass. Even from here, I feel the pull—the same magnetic force that made me say yes in San Diego, the same one I swore I’d never feel again.

His mask hides his expression, but his posture stiffens. He missed a puck by Luka Popovich. The Russian Olympian Left Winger taking over for Lake Powers, after Lake retired last season to move to Aspen full time with his wife Tessa.

Brynn whistles low. “Well, that was interesting.”

“What was?” I ask, feigning innocence as I bounce Milo on my lap.

Penelope smirks. “The way JP just missed that shot because he was too busy staring at you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I shove a handful of goldfish crackers into my mouth, hoping they’ll absorb the flush creeping up my neck.

Brynn leans in, smirking. “That shot he missed? It’s your fault, you know.”

I glare at her. “I’m pretty sure Luka’s slap shot is what beat him, not me. Or maybe he’s just rusty.” I grumble, bouncing Milo on my knee.

“Mmm, sure,” Brynn hums. “It has nothing to do with the way he keeps looking up here like a puppy who lost his favorite toy.”

As Brynn reaches for Milo, and Penelope’s phone buzzes with another notification, I can’t help glancing back at the ice.

"Bozeman!" I hear my dad's voice echo in the stands. "You're up!"

JP’s skating toward the bench, his shoulders tense. Olsen Bozeman, the Hawkeyes starting goal tender who was signed to take Reeve Aisa's place when he retired last year, skates past JP, heading for the goalpost. He hasn’t gotten cleared for games yet, but he’s back to practicing with the team.

My dad meets him at the boards, his expression unreadable as they exchange a few words before JP steps into the home bench and takes a seat.

Brynn’s voice pulls me back. “Whatever happened between you two in San Diego, seems more than a one-night stand to him. Why don’t you just ask him what happened and why he left with her?”

Brynn knows our history. She got it out of me the night I came back from San Diego.

The text about happily ever after really tipped her off.

I freeze. “It was nothing. I should have figured that one night was all he wanted. It was a misunderstanding.”

Penelope raises an eyebrow. “It was more than a misunderstanding. I’ve never seen a player go to the length he went to in order to get your attention.”

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