Page 81 of Match Penalty

Slade's eyebrows furrow. "That's what this is about? Are you serious?" Slade says finally. "You think you and Cammy are going to end up like your parents? Oliver fucking Garcia is the only motherfucker responsible for what happened to Cammy that night. And I get it—you're protecting her. Noble, self-sacrificing, very on-brand for you," he says sarcastically, "but have you considered that maybe she doesn't want to be protected? If you haven't noticed, Cammy isn't exactly a wilting wallflower. She can hold her own. You're not giving her a chance."

I think about the cut on her forehead, the way my heart stopped when I saw Seven lifting her off Oakley's wood floors and Brynn wrapping her arm around her, pulling Cammy out of the bar. "It's not that simple."

"It never is," Hunter agrees. "But man, you're playing like you've got nothing left to lose. And that's not okay."

"Maybe I don't," I admit quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

The table falls silent again, but this time it's heavy with understanding. These guys know loss—we all do. It comes with the sport, and everyone one of us has had loses in other parts of our lives. But this is different. This is about choosing to lose something before it can be taken away.

"You know what your problem is?" Slade says suddenly, stealing a fry from Hunter's plate. "You're thinking like a goalie. You're on the defense."

"That's literally my job," I point out.

"On the ice, sure. But off it?" He shakes his head. "Sometimes you have to take the shot, even if you might miss."

I think about the upcoming charity auction, about Seven's challenge. About how easy it would be to just... let the puck go in. To walk away from everything—the team, the city, her.

Watch my entire life go up in flames, and watch it happen from between the pipes.

"Or sometimes you come to terms with the fact that you can't win every game," I say back.

This isn't about a game, or a shot… this is about doing what's right for Cammy, no matter what it costs me.

Soon, the baskets of fries are gone, and Bristol shows up with our food. The guys carry on about our next game and the team we're up against, as I quietly eat, thinking about everything Slade and Hunter said.

The walk back to my apartment feels longer than usual. The guys offered to share an Uber, but I needed the air. Needed the space to think.

My phone vibrates, Angelica's name lighting up the screen. For a moment, I considered letting it go to voicemail, but I've been avoiding her calls and texts since the fight at the bar.

"Hey," I answer, my breath fogging in the cold November air.

"Hey…" she starts. "Are we finally going to talk about what happened at Oakley's? You know I saw the news. Did you think I'd forget?"

I close my eyes, remembering the way Cammy looked in my jersey that night. The way she fit against me. The way everything felt right until it all went wrong.

"Of course, I didn't think you'd forget—you never forget my shortcomings. Like I said before, it's your worst quality."

She chuckles. "Yes, well, you weren't blessed with an obnoxious little sister, so God gave you me."

"So, he's the one I have to blame for this phone call? Got it," I say. "Is that all you had to call about?" I ask, hopeful but knowing it never goes this easy.

"Not a chance. Sounds like Garcia strikes again huh? Ballsy for him to think he could walk into the Hawkeyes lair without getting served up. That idiot always did have bigger balls than brains."

That earns her a chuckle from me. It feels foreign almost, as if it's not coming from me.

"I think he forgot that he's no longer traveling with a group of hockey players willing to fight his battles for him."

"And Cammy? I think I heard something about that," she says.

"She got hurt because of me," I say quietly.

"No, she got hurt because some drunk idiot punched a wasp's nest and got stung. That's not on you."

"You didn't see her face after it happened."

"I didn't have to see her face to know what this is about. You think this is history repeating. That your mom stepping in for your dad is going to happen to Cammy—"

"Ang—"

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