Page 34 of Match Penalty

Slade laughs. "She won't let me forget it, I’ll put it that way. But every morning when I wake up to her and the life we're building... I know that it was worth the shit days when I thought I might have given up the NHL for nothing," he says. "From what I understand, you two have history."

"Penelope told you that?" I shouldn't be surprised that she told him.

He shakes his head and takes a pull from his beer. "Nope. Welcome to the Hawkeyes. The stadium's too small to hold big secrets." His gaze flashes to the TV when the guys all yell at a play that Luka made, and then he turns back to me. "I don't know the details between you and Cammy, and I don't need to. Just know that Cammy is the unofficial little sister of this team, just like Penelope was. There are a lot of people in this franchise that won't take kindly to seeing her get hurt, especially by a player with a reputation. Whatever you decide to do, be intentional about it. Don't fuck around," he says. "That's the best advice I received from a very wise player."

"Really? Who?"

"Seven Wrenley."

I nod. "Okay… I got it." I say. "What should I do about him?"

"About Wrenley?" he asks, his eyes back on the TV watching Luka and Hunter play against each other.

"He told me to stay away from her if I want a spot on this team."

He thinks for a second. "Then my advice is: Don't let him find out."

"Great, thank you for that. Really helpful," I deadpan and head for the living room. I'm up next.

"I'm kidding," he says, holding out an arm to stop me. "All I can tell you is that when it came time for me to step up or step out in Sam Roberts' eyes, I already knew what my end game was. And I'll tell you a little secret—it wasn't hockey. Penelope's always been the end game for me, and she always will be. I'm not going to lie to you—it wasn’t easy. I didn’t know if Penelope would forgive me. I didn’t know if Sam would ever give me a shot. But I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try. The question you need to ask yourself is: ‘What's my end game?’ And what are you willing to give up to get it?"

Remembering the look on Cammy's face the other night, I could see that something was changing between us. She almost let me kiss her, which tells me that I'm not as far off as I thought I was when I showed up here weeks ago. Without hurting Angelica's chances for her promotion by coming clean with Cammy, I have to find a way to prove to Cammy that there's only ever been her since we met.

We head back to the living room where Hunter and Aleksi are arguing about a penalty call.

"Finally," Aleksi says. "I was about to send a search party."

"Or call Cammy," Luka spits out.

"Shut up and play," I tell them, but there's no heat in it. These guys might give me shit, but they've got my back… and I'm going to need it.

As we settle back into the game, I catch Slade watching me. He gives me a slight nod—approval, maybe. Or warning. Probably both.

I might not have all the answers, but I know one thing for sure: Cammy is my end game. And no matter what it takes, I’m going to prove to her—and to Seven—that I’m worth the risk.

Chapter Ten

Cammy

"Catch!" Brynn calls out, tossing me a cucumber from across the kitchen of Brynn and my dad’s house in a gated community just outside of Seattle. Coach Haynes, and several other retired Hawkeyes players have houses here.

They bought this house when my dad retired, keeping Brynn’s apartment across from The Commons as Brynn’s writing sanctuary. They alternate between the apartment and house depending on the hockey schedule.

I snag the cucumber in both hands just in time before it tumbles to the floor, and then reach for the cutting board she's laid out.

"Your volleyball skills are still sharp," she notes, mixing something that smells like honey and oatmeal in a bowl. "Now slice that up for eye covers while I finish this base for our facemasks."

I settle onto my usual bar stool at her massive kitchen island, watching as she scoops different ingredients from several bowls of natural ingredients all laid out. The familiar routine of our once-a-month Saturday girls' night is already starting to ease some of the tension lingering after the slapshot preview a few days ago.

Soon, Juliet, Isla, and Penelope will be walking through that door, all wives of retired or current Hawkeyes players. Aria, Kendall, and I are the only three single ladies in the group, but Kendall is at some sports medicine conference this week, and Aria said she is putting in extra hours at the office this week in an attempt to dazzle Everett so he'll see the value in having two assistants.

"You know we could just buy masks from the store, right?" I tease, carefully slicing the cucumber.

"Where's the fun in that?" She tosses me a block of cheese next. "And have you ever read the ingredient list on the back of most of those? No thanks. These facemasks are so clean, we could eat them," she says, mixing up her green goop that smells surprisingly good. "While you're being helpful, can you start on the charcuterie board after you're done with the cucumber? The girls will be here soon."

I begin arranging meats and cheeses and pre-slicing fruit, falling into comfortable silence as Brynn works her magic with the face mask ingredients. The quiet lasts approximately thirty seconds.

"Are we going to talk about what happened at the preview two days ago? Or are we just going to pretend it didn’t happen like your dad is doing?” Brynn asks.

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