Page 5 of Penalty Kiss
“And you look like hell,” he retorts.
“You should see the other guy,” I rasp.
“There wasn’t another guy, Cam. It was a puck and your skull.”
“Semantics.”
“You also smell like antiseptic and ego,” he answers.
I let him have the last word because my head starts throbbing again.
Then, his mouth twitches. “You scared me.”
“I scared me,” I admit. The words scrape but feel like relief. “Tunnel… went sideways.”
“You tried to joke and forgot the punchline,” he says softly. “It wasn’t your best material.”
I huff a laugh that hurts. “You know the verdict?”
“Yah, PCS. You got one too many hits, man,” he says. No drama. No pity. Just the truth we have to walk through. “You need quiet.”
“In Houston?” I raise a brow with resignation.
“Here’s the thing,” he says.
“The season’s over. We lost, yeah, but so what? We already won the Cup last year. You’ve gotthatring on your finger, your name on the silver. And we’re still the East champs this year, Cam. What matters now is you.”
“You’re not going to do this in Houston with cameras camped outside your house and people asking for selfies while you’re trying to remember what day it is.”
“I’m fine,” I say, and we both hear the paper-thin lie.
I sigh. “So where, Goalie?”
“Cedar Falls.”
The words land with a thud and a memory. Lily’s candy shop welcoming in August, my laughter bouncing off brick when we wrapped that ridiculous delivery van in vinyl with our mugshots. The van, a gift from Jeff, the team owner. The vinyl decal, a perfect touch of prank from me because nothing we do is small. Levi’s proposal night—fireworks, cheers, me the loudest idiot in the corner. The wedding two years ago, me on a dance floor with a grandma who could two-step better than most rookies can skate.
I was there. I felt good.
Levi leans forward, elbows on knees. “Sugar Mill Lofts. Lily can get a unit ready for you. There’s a clinic that won’t treat you like a headline. There’s a lakeside path where you can walk untilthe buzz drops. There’s no one who wants anything from you except you, breathing. And I’m there.”
“You’re selling it hard.”
“I’m selfish,” he says. “I want you alive and loud for the next fifty years.”
I look at the crack in the ceiling again and imagine it’s a river on a map. A line from the roar to the quiet. From the storm to the somewhere after.
“Do I even knowhowto shut up?” I ask.
“Try,” he says. “For me.”
The ache behind my eyes spikes, then softens. I think of Dad’s single word text. I think of Luke’s future lecture. Of the GM’s “brand” and how fast I want to launch that word into the sun. I think of steel and ice and the moment the concrete kissed my cheek.
“Say yes,” Levi adds, voice low and steady. “Don’t make me drag you.”
“You couldn’t drag me if you tried,” I mutter, because I have to win something today. Then I breathe out and let the fight drop where it belongs.
“Yeah,” I say. The word is small and heavy and right. “Okay. Cedar Falls.”
