Page 34 of Penalty Box
“I caught bits and pieces of the game on breaks,” she said with a fake air of innocence. Then she turned serious, and added, “Saw the hit you took in third.”
Of course she did.
“You weren’t supposed to be watching.”
“I’m not supposed to be doing a lot of things… But here we are.”
She slipped her hand into mine, and we pushed off into slow loops around the rink. Our own private orbit.
“Still wired?”
“Adrenaline’s cheap,” I replied with a smirk. “Wears off fast.”
“What’s this then?” Cass gave my hand a slight tug, and we slowed to a stop. “You should be resting. Not out here pretending you’re indestructible.”
I sighed, rolled the stiffness in my shoulders. “I’m fine.”
“How about now?” She landed a perfectly aimed jab to my side, and I doubled over. I thought I was going to pass out with the way stars popped off in front of me.
“Mason.” Her voice took on a tone I couldn’t ignore. “You’re pushing too hard, and you know it. Keep this up, and you’ll count yourself out of the game before it’s meant to be over.”
I eased my lungs through a steady, controlled breath. “You sound like you actually care about my game.”
She skated back into my space, lifting her head to press it gently to the side of my face.
“I do,” she whispered. “Even if you’re a pain in the ass.”
My chest cracked open.
I didn’t know how to carry that, so I leaned forward and just kissed the shit out of her.
Her hand slid down my jaw, fingers pressing into the curve of my neck. Mine found her waist, then her back, and I pulled her close. She melted into me, one arm around my shoulder—and I flinched.
She pulled back immediately, eyes sharp. “That’s it. I’m taking you to medical.”
I smiled through the brief flare of pain, and said, “Are you going to nurse me back to health?”
“Someone has to.”
Before I could argue, she was dragging me by the sleeve toward the tunnel. I didn’t fight it, and just listened while she muttered things about being careless and reckless under her breath.
The lights in the medical bay buzzed low, and Cass found the ice packs without having to look. She set me down on the exam table and positioned herself between my legs as she held one to my shoulder.
“Pressure okay?”
“Hold on.” I scooted to the edge of the table until I was brushing up against her. “There. Now the pressure’s perfect.”
She gave a half-smile but said nothing, her thumb moving in slow, rhythmic strokes along the edge of the ice pack. Soothing. Hypnotic.
“You ever feel like no matter how much you give, it’s never enough?”
The look on her face told me she wasn’t expecting me to go there, but she took a breath and thought for a bit before answering.
Then, taking her eyes off my shoulder to look at me, she said, “All the time.”
The high I was riding from the game and extra drills had given out. Now it was less a sprinting heartbeat I was dealing with, and more of a slow burn.
“Just so you know,” she added, “you don’t have to prove anything to me. Not on the ice, or here.”
