Page 29 of Match Penalty

"Tomorrow. After morning skate," Everett replies. "Does that work for everyone?"

We all nod, and slowly the group disperses. Seven lingers for a moment, his gaze promising bodily harm if I step out of line, before following Everett and Penelope toward the locker room.

My phone buzzes again in my pocket—probably Angelica with more advice—but I ignore it. Instead, I catch up to Cammy before she can escape. "Hey, that was some slapshot out there."

She pauses, surprised by the genuine compliment. "Thanks."

"You've been practicing."

"Maybe." A hint of pride creeps into her voice, her hazel eyes sparking with that competitive edge I can never resist.

I hesitate, then grin. "Want to make this preview interesting?"

Her eyebrow arches, and her lips twitch like she’s already calling my bluff. "Interesting how?"

"Simple. Three shots," I say, stepping closer. Her scent—something soft and faintly floral—makes my chest tighten. "If I block all three, you agree to a real date with me. Dinner, conversation, no running away afterward."

She scoffs, crossing her arms. "And if I score?"

I shrug, feigning casual. "Your call. What do you want?"

Cammy studies me for a long moment, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line. Then a sly smile curls the edges of her mouth. "Fine. If I score, you tell Penelope you're stepping away from the auction to focus on your knee. No excuses. No interference."

Her words hit harder than a slapshot, but I keep my expression steady. Of course she’d use this to push me away—it’s classic Cammy. Practical, guarded, and unwilling to risk opening the door to something she can’t control.

"Deal," I say, extending my hand.

Her hand meets mine, her grip firm, her eyes locked on mine. "Deal."

As she pulls away, that fire in her gaze ignites, and I know I’m in trouble. But I’ve spent the last hour watching her practice, studying her tells. The way her weight shifts before a wrist shot. The way her shoulders tighten before a slapshot.

I’m not letting a single puck past me.

I watch her walk away, that competitive spark in her eyes lighting a fire under my skin. She thinks this is about the auction. About proving myself to the team. And yeah, maybe it started that way. But this isn’t about charity events or career comebacks.

This is about her and what I'm willing to do to get her back, no matter the cost, no matter the stakes.

I can still feel the hockey calluses on her palm where it pressed against mine, the strength behind her handshake that said she has no intention of letting me win. And I’m fine with that—hell, I want the challenge.

Because this isn’t just a game to me. This is my shot at proving I’m not the guy she thinks I am. At showing her that even after everything, I’m still here. And this time, I’m not walking away.

I pull out my phone, seeing Angelica's latest text.

Angelica:Booked a flight for the opener. Still have seats for me?

Me:Always.

I touch the green hair band on my wrist—her hair tie, the one I've worn ever since that night. Some guys have lucky socks or pre-game rituals. I have this small piece of her, reminding me of everything I'm fighting to get back.

Tomorrow, I'll need all the luck I can get.

Chapter Eight

Cammy

My phone buzzes as I head for the rink, heading for the preview, though my nerves feel like someone dropped them in a blender and hit the power button.

Brynn:Stop ignoring me. What happened with JP two nights ago? Spill!

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