Page 8 of Penalty Zone

Tonight was a mistake.

I won’t make the same mistake twice.

Chapter 5

Caleb

If I thought facing Mason last night was hard, it’s nothing compared to knowing Leo will be at practice today fully aware I’m a pervert stalker who watches him drink water naked. I really hate myself sometimes.

The locker room is noisy and filled with nearly naked, good-looking men, and usually my eyes would avoid them, but today I’m daring myself to find them attractive enough to distract me.

No such luck.

“What’s up with you?” Griff asks, giving me side eye.

Oh nothing, currently fantasizing about going down on your dad, swallowing his load, and hoping he lets me call him Daddy. “Nothing!” My voice is too high and loud, so I clear my throat. “Why? Do I seem extra, extra today?” Maybe I can tone myself down.

“You’re more hyper than usual.” His chin nods at my leg, bouncing as if it will rocket me into space. That would be awesome. If only my nervous tick had some use.

“I mean, it’s nerve-racking having an NHL legend critique my every move. It makes me wonder if I suck and they think I need a special coach.” That sounds normal, and it’s even fucking true. It would be easy to blame Mason for sending me to his dad’s apartment alone, but I’m the weirdo who watched him. Leo must be disgusted with me.

“I think they took pity on him. He can’t play, and he’s getting too old for Montreal to keep him on camera, so the Enforcers gave him a charity job.” Mason taps his stick, ready to go.

I gotta finish putting my pads on. It’s harder than I thought it would be to hold back the comment that his dad isn’t old. Yeah, he’s older than us, but he’s a fucking smokeshow, and the camera and Montreal fans love him. Thankfully, that job means he can’t be here all the time.

None of that is helping my mental state.

“You go ahead. I’ll be out in a minute.” I tug my gear on.

Mason glances around the mostly empty locker room and back at me. “No man left behind. Get your ass in gear and let’s go.”

I can’t make Mason late for practice because one, Coach will lose his shit, and two, the team will start shipping us again. The shipping is too close to home and all wrong.

Compared to the game arena, the much smaller practice facility has only a few hundred seats. Leo is already on the ice, and I almost fall flat on my face when I see him. He’s wearing a tight white Enforcers long-sleeve shirt, and his amber eyes track me. I swear the man’s part lion.

I should tell him I’m sorry, but a good apology includes saying what I did wrong. There’s no way I’ll be able to vocalize my regret for seeing him naked because I’ll stutter, unable to find the words to lie.

Today I can’t read his energy, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m freaking out or he’s got his emotions on lock down. Asgoalies, we train ourselves to put our feelings in a vault and focus.

Well sugar-shoot. That’s all I have to do. My personal life is officially in the vault, and I’m professional Caleb Benz today. I’ve got this. I’ll apologize after practice when no one else is around.

“We’re scrimmaging. Benz and Liska each take a goal. Coach Griffin, you’re with Benz,” Coach barks out his directions and splits the team in two.

Lucky and Drake grumble because they’re not on the same team, but it’s practice. Lars Drakenberg, or Drake, is our center and literal team enforcer. Coach can’t have the first line play against the others. It would be a massacre.

They’re a couple and never tire of living and working together. Absolute hashtag-couple-goals.

Ace skates up to my goal and sprays me with ice when he stops. “You good, man?”

Why the Hades is he asking me that? I can’t keep the scowl off my face, and I realize my emotions are not locked up. This is going to suck. “I’m fine.”

Ace gives me a smile that says I’m full of crap, but he skates away anyway.

“Get in position,” Leo demands, and even though I should stand up for myself, I go where he tells me.

He’s in my ear all game, and it’s throwing me off. I can save goals, but he’s making me second-guess every decision and I’m a disaster.

Coach calls a break, and I get some water.

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