Page 25 of Penalty Zone

Caleb’s mouth hangs open in a wide grin, and his green eyes glow in the dim light.

“Remember your schedule.” I tap my watch, and Caleb nods dutifully. I turn before I say something more and ruin the moment like Mason expects.

The wheel of my bag gets caught in the door, and I hear Caleb’s breathy voice say, “Holy moly.”

“Yeah, that’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard him say. Good for you,” Mason responds.

Walking away from the man who is not my son takes more effort than I can admit to myself.

After lying awake in bed for half an hour, I grab my phone.

Me: Did you make it to bed?

Caleb: Come tuck me in?

Me: Goodnight

Caleb: Night

There should not be a goofy grin on my face, but there is.

Chapter 12

Caleb

“You got this, Ace,” I yell, banging on the wall. He misses the shot, but we’re up by three. Coach said I won’t get ice time today, and there’s not much to do except cheer my guys on.

Mason’s lagging behind tonight because of his leg. Grayson notices and watches him, clenching his jaw. He can’t do his job when players aren’t honest. Mason feels like he has something to prove and won’t sit out. Hopefully, it won’t bite him in the butt later.

Our defenseman steals the puck and keeps it on his stick for a shift change. The third line goes over the wall, and Gray descends on Mason.

Leo’s piercing gaze scrutinizes their interaction, radiating worry. Things between them are better, but Mason is skeptical. I don’t blame him since Leo broke his promises in the past.

The crowd gets my attention, and I watch the same defender shield Liska as the other team scores. He won’t be here muchlonger since he’s making the same mistake over and over, costing us goals. Liska’s trying not to lose his shit.

Leo and the goalie coach have their heads together. There’s only fifty-three seconds left in the second period, so I doubt they’ll call a timeout. Otherwise, they’d want to calm Liska down.

To prevent my mind from fantasizing about my best friend’s straight father, I join the crowd in chanting, “Lis-ka, Lis-ka.”

The period ends, and while I’m picking up a few drink bottles, the hairs on my neck stand up. I turn to find Leo’s eyes on me, and he tilts his head to signal me to get in the locker room.

“Get going,” he says, and my feet move quickly toward him and the team.

My life would be so much easier if I could erase my attraction. He has this hold on me, and every part of me longs to please him for his praise.

It doesn’t help that, during practice, he highlights my best plays and compliments my skills. It’s like a drug I can’t get enough of. Like, I’d do anything to get more. Except I can’t.

The way he watches me sometimes, I doubt he’s as straight as I thought. Or it’s wishful thinking. I’m not Leo’s type even if he’s bi.

During the third period, I sit next to a fuming Mason because Gray has convinced Coach he’s injured.

One second, everything in the game is fine, and the next, Liska is out of the goal, screaming at our defense. Coach calls a timeout, and Ace holds Liska so he doesn’t hit his own defender. Rarely do you see the goalie brawl with a teammate, but I don’t blame him.

“Benz, you’re in,” Coach barks, and my ears ring.

I haven’t done my pregame rituals or centering before getting in the goal. I’m not ready.

“Get out there. Now!” Coach yells, and I hop up.

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