Page 5 of Match Penalty

"Phil didn't make the call—Everett did. And that whole DUI thing was a mess," Penelope waves her hand dismissively. "The charges were reversed two weeks later. Some activist lawyer proved his blood alcohol was well below the legal limit. Plus, he should have gone to the hospital, not jail. The judge and local law enforcement were trying to make an example of him. I'm surprised the Blue Devils dropped him over it, but his knee injury would have put him on the Long Term Injury list and he was one of their most expensive players. Even if he had gotten the medical treatment he deserved, he would have been out the following season. I think they wanted to unload expensive talent anyway," She pauses, studying me. "Are you okay with this? Him being here? Especially after that fight with your dad at the charity game?"

I force a smile, even as my stomach twists. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Penelope doesn't push, though I can tell she wants to. "Because the bad blood between Wrenley and Dumont started with your fathers before either of you were born. Not to mention that your dad ended up with a bloody lip, and it wasn't exactly your typical run of the mill fight. Seven's never lost his cool on the ice like that before."

The memory of that fight flashes through my mind—JP didn't look much better after either, favoring his left leg after my dad took him down to the ice. I had a front-row seat to the whole thing, sitting with Brynn behind the home bench. What started as both of them trying to separate their teammates during a late-hit brawl somehow ended with them trading blows. The image of my usually composed father losing it on the ice still unsettles me.

"A bloody lip is nothing to a hockey player, right?" I keep my tone light. "And anyway, a year and a half is practically ancient history.”

Penelope licks her lips. "Sure. Most players have to move past these things. The league isn't that big. A lot of them will end up playing together on a team or at least train together at off-season camps," she says, setting her coffee cup down with a gentle tap against the desk. "Can you get JP set up with an apartment in The Commons? He needs to be settled before regular-season practice starts tomorrow. He's been living in a hotel these past couple weeks during tryouts, and a hotel room won't work long-term."

I nod quickly, willing myself to stay professional even as my heart races at the thought of having to interact with him. "Of course. I'll call the property managers for The Commons and ask them to get him set up."

She studies my face carefully. "I thought you knew, given..."

"Given what?" I ask, perhaps too sharply.

"Given that your father's been handling his training personally, working to strengthen his knee. With Olsen Bozeman on LTI until next month when he gets cleared, JP is starting this season—assuming he makes it through the pre-season." She pauses, then adds more gently, "And given your history with him."

I force my expression to remain neutral. "There is no history."

But even as I say it, memories flood back to three years of careful distance punctuated by moments of almost-something—moments he'd steal in quiet corners of event centers or stadiums… all leading to that one night after a playoff win that changed everything. The smell of salt air brings back every sensation of those hours spent under him.

"I'm not sure what happened between you two, but there's a big elephant in the room."

"What elephant?"

"JP’s attention was obvious to everyone, Cammy. The way he’d wait for you in the halls, always tossing you pucks with that grin—it was impossible not to notice. He did everything short of spray-painting "I Heart Cammy" in the middle of the rink on game day. And now, ever since he got in that accident after the playoff win, your face practically turns green like you're about to be sick whenever anyone utters his name." Penelope says, leaning forward. "You're going to have to work with him. Charity events, team functions, media days—your paths are going to cross, especially if Coach Haynes officially signs him onto the team."

I had no idea that she had noticed all of this. I guess I should have, but I was preoccupied with JP's attention, not realizing how obvious he might have been in front of team staff. I knew my dad had noticed, but I didn't realize that Penelope had too. I guess since our paths haven't crossed in a year and a half since he's been training in Montreal, I figured people had forgotten about all of that—the way I thought I had up until seeing his name on a Hawkeyes file folder.

At least he's only on PTO. Maybe I'll get lucky, and he'll end up with another team. It's all I can hope for.

My stomach twists. "I'm a professional, Pen. I can handle it."

"I know you can. But this isn't just about professionalism." She taps her fingers against her desk thoughtfully. "JP Dumont carries a lot of weight in this league. His comeback story is going to be media gold, especially with Seven coaching him. Not only because Seven and his dad used to play on the same team, but also because they were widely known to clash. Not to mention that the media has caught him tossing you pucks on numerous occasions in the past. And though he's silenced them before, this time things are going to be bigger than him. The pressure's going to be intense."

"And you think I can't handle pressure?" The words come out almost juvenile, and I shrink into myself. This is not how I prove I'm ready for more responsibility—I know that.

"No," Penelope says calmly. "I think you handle pressure better than most, but this is different. This is personal and professional colliding in a very public way."

She's right, and we both know it. Every interaction with JP will be scrutinized—by the team, by the media, by my father. One wrong move, one slip in professionalism, and everything I've worked for could be questioned. My father has already threatened enough of the press not to run a story about the two dynasty families uniting with JP and I dating: The Wrenley's and the Dumont's, a hockey fairytale.

More like a tragedy… like Romeo and Juliet.

But I'm not stupid enough to drink the poison twice.

It's almost as if JP tried to garner the attention—get the media talking about us to build more buzz around his career. I wouldn't put it past him, and I had already fallen for it—showing up in San Diego to watch him play in the playoffs.

"I’ve worked too hard to prove I’m more than just Seven Wrenley’s daughter. I won’t let JP’s presence undo that."

"No one doubts your capabilities, Cammy." Penelope's voice softens. "But maybe this is about more than just work."

"It's not," I insist, but the words feel hollow. "This is just another challenge to navigate. Nothing more."

Penelope studies me for a long moment before speaking again. "You know, when Slade first joined the team, everyone thought I'd have trouble maintaining professional boundaries. The GM's daughter dating the star center? It was practically a scandal waiting to happen."

"That was different," I argue, but she holds up a hand.

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