Page 59 of The Love Penalty

“That’s because he doesn’t have any respect for anyone. You’d be surprised how many times he verbally harassed me, but as much as I want to, I can’t kick him out of the game every time,” I say, opting for some honesty.

“That is fucked up, no wonder we don’t have more women in this sport. Because of assholes like Mitchell,” Ben says hotly.

The guys head out and promise to wait for me in the lobby, so I rush through my shower, braid my hair and make sure my hat is tucked over my ears before grabbing my duffel bag and heading out.

Once I’m outside the locker room, I immediately collide with a big, solid body. I look up, starting to apologize before realizing it’s Mitchell. His face is red and angry, like always and his eyes are narrowed on me.

“Excuse me,” I say, trying to sidestep him, but he blocks my path. “Can I help you?” I ask, trying to keep my tone calm.

“You can actually,” he says, with a mean smile on his lips. “You see, I know something. Something you don’t want to get out into the public.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, starting to get worried about this whole interaction.

“The last time you were in Vermont, you stayed at the Madison hotel. See, I was there to meet an old friend, and imagine my surprise when I saw you, of all people, hand in hand with the captain of the Manticores.” He smirks down at me and my breath catches in my throat. He knows?Fuck, he knows.We weren’t doing anything wrong though. Not really.

“Your point?” I say, standing up straighter, trying to show him I’m not scared, even though I am internally panicking. What if he tells my bosses? Makes a formal complaint? Would I lose my job, be reassigned?

“My point is, if you don’t start making some calls in my team’s favor, I will get you fired from the AHL,” he says hotly, annoyed that I’m not cowering in front of him.

Screw this guy. Who does he think he is to fucking blackmail me?

“Are you seriously blackmailing an official to make calls in your favor? Your team must be awful if you need to stoop so low,” I reply, balling my hands into fists. I’ve never been a violent person but I just want to punch this guy in the face. “As for getting me fired, you can sure as hell try, but your assumptions are wrong and you’ll just look like an idiot when the AHL finds out you not only lied, but also blackmailed me.”

Mitchell is fuming and moves closer to me to say, “You will regret this.” I take a step back, but startle when I hear voices.

“Hey, what the hell is going on?” Jackson asks from behind Mitchell. Ben and Daniel are also there, the three of them looking annoyed as hell, arms crossed and glaring at Mitchell.

“Mitchell was just telling me what a great job we did tonight. Weren’t you?” I pat his shoulder as I move towards the other officials and hide my shaking hands into the pockets of my coat. “Let’s go, guys.”

The four of us head out and leave Mitchell behind, probably fuming. When we get to The Logan,the guys try to ask me about that interaction, but I just tell them he was trying to pick a fight, keeping the blackmail information to myself.

I was supposedto call Robbie after I left the bar, but my phone died and I didn’t have a charger in my car. While the night wasn’t a complete bust, worry and panic started creeping in more on the drive home.

I can’t fathom how Mitchell would stoop so low. Do I believe him, though? If he has any proof, he didn’t mention it. That makes me think he’s just desperate and bluffing. Still, he can cause both me and Robbie lots of problems down the road. How am I going to explain this to Robbie without him freaking out?

My house is dark and colder than usual when I get back. I take a look at my thermostat and see it’s below 58 degrees. That can’t be right, I always keep it at 65 all year round. I try turning it up but it doesn’t work. As if the night couldn’t get any worse, now I have to sleep in the fucking cold.

Frustrated tears burn my eyelids and all I want to do is let out my rage. I want a home that doesn’t have a billion differentissues to fix, and I want people not to hate me for doing my job, and I want two cats to cuddle me when I go to bed, and I want Robbie next to me.

I wanted Robbie at the arena tonight, helping me with Mitchell. I want Robbie now to deal with the broken thermostat so that I can just fucking catch my breath. This thought makes me irrationally angry with myself. Since when do I need a man to fix things for me, when I’ve always done things myself?

But wouldn’t it be nice if we could tackle these issues together?

While I want to punch something, I don’t. I cry myself to sleep in a pile of blankets so I don’t freeze. I don’t text Robbie. I don’t even charge my phone. I just feel sorry for myself.

The next morning,I call someone to come fix the heat and spend the day with Grams. I get a call from Robbie and immediately feel better.

“Hey, Bobbert.”

“Hey, love,” he says, chuckling. I know the nickname is growing on him. “You didn’t text me last night, I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

I sigh and say, “I’m sorry, my phone died and then I—” I contemplate telling him everything now, about Mitchell and the heat and my meltdown, but I don’t “I fell asleep.” I pull my legs up to my chest on Grams’ couch and feel like shit for that small lie.

“Okay, did you have fun at the bar?”

“Yeah, it was nice. I wasn’t too bad at socializing.”

“Of course you weren’t. You’re amazing.”

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