Page 89 of Penalty Zone

Liska’s playing this period, but I re-tape the grip on my stick just in case. My teammates tap my skates as they pass byand praise my goaltending. Normally, I would eat it up, and I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s not a ‘job well done’ as much as a ‘we stand behind you.’ The last thing this team needs is a division among teammates.

Six minutes into the third period, Liska saves a goal, and when he dishes it back out, there’s a tussle and a Cincy player falls on him, taking him to the ice.

Liska’s slow to get up, and Coach sends me a look to be ready. Ace helps Liska up, and he’s in obvious pain skating to the bench. I vault over the boards and tap my stick on the pipes when I get in goal.

On our next possession, King flicks his wrist and slides one between the goalie’s legs. Mason wraps him in a hug, and the arena cheers, stomping their feet.

Next shot on my goal, I watch the play unfold and catch the puck in my glove. I love hearing the satisfying smack of rubber on leather.

Cincy isn’t going down without a fight, and I earn my paycheck tonight with more saves and deflections.

At the end of the game, we’ve won five to three.

Ari Dimon’s standing at the mouth of the tunnel, talking to Mason, and beckons me over. Mason tries to talk to me, but Mr. Dimon cuts him off.

“Do not say a word to the media, shower, then you’re coming with me.”

I don’t ask why or where, nodding and hauling my ass to the locker room, trusting Mr. Dimon.

“I’m sorry,” Mason says, but I’m not the one he needs to apologize to.

I fake a smile but don’t say a word to the reporters and take the fastest shower ever.

Mr. Dimon is speaking to his driver down the hall from the locker room. “Mr. Benz, please wait in the car. I need to speak to Mr. Griffin.”

Dutifully, I follow the driver out to a large black sedan with tinted windows. I assume we’re going to the hospital, since he also talked to Mason, but I’m surprised at how long they’re taking. Mason was putting his shoes on when I left.

Checking my phone, I’m relieved to see an update from Gray.

Gray: He has a broken jaw going into surgery. I’ll keep you updated

Me: How is he?

Me: What are they doing?

Me: How long will it take?

Me: Have you seen him yet?

Gray: He should be out of surgery soon and I’ll text immediately

I’ve been in the car for twenty-ish years, and my bouncing leg could propel me to the hospital in record time. Grabbing a taxi isn’t worth it because it would take too long, and I’d risk being mobbed by fans.

The driver gets out and hurries around to open the back door.

“Sorry, that took longer than expected.” Mr. Dimon slides in, and the door closes behind him.

“We have to go to the hospital. Leo’s in surgery,” I say as we pull into traffic. Only then do I notice the police escort.

He frowns. “I was hoping to talk to you before you heard about it.”

“I texted Grayson. Where’s Mason?” I ask.

“Leo’s lower jaw is broken, and they need to put a plate in so it heals correctly. The surgeons assure me it will be a relatively simple procedure. After surgery, his jaw will be wired shut for a few weeks, but after that, he should make a full recovery,” Ari says. It’s what I should have expected, but the thought of Leo being in pain and needing to recover chills my bones.

I notice he didn’t say a word about Mason. Mason’s blowing up my phone, but I don’t read his texts. My focus needs to be on Leo.

“Thank you for this.” I wave at the police car clearing the way for us.

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