Page 91 of Penalty Box
28
Mason
Game 7.
The kind of game that stayed with you long after it was done. The kind of night you remembered in black and white, except for the blood on the ice and the glare of the scoreboard.
But before any of that could take center stage in my head, I had to get one thing off my chest.
Coach whirled round from his play board when I stormed into his office. The look of surprise on his face clouded over almost instantly.
“There’s something I have to say to you.”
“Not now, Calder,” he said, turning back to continue whatever he was doing. “If this is about your place in the starting rotation—”
“It’s not.” Which was only half a lie.
Enough to get his attention, because he set down the whiteboard marker and sat on the edge of his desk. “You have two minutes. Spit it out.”
There was no pause, no hesitation. I was ready to say the words, ready for Coach to hear them. “I’m in love with your daughter.”
His expression remained stony. It gave nothing away about what he felt. Not much help, but then again, I didn’t care.
“I’m not hiding it anymore,” I said, fighting through cotton mouth brought on by a serious case of nerves. Cass wasn’t kidding when she said I could have both. It was both the game, and this that had me tied up in knots.
“It’s not the time for this, kid,” Coach said, arms folded over his chest. The warning rang in my ears, but I couldn’t stop myself now.
I’d die if I didn’t get this out.
“I know this started out messy. That we kept secrets. I’m sorry for that, but it wasn’t for the wrong reasons.” He didn’t make a sound, and I took that as a sign to continue. “I never meant to disrespect you, Coach. Or the team.”
“I don’t give a shit about intentions,” he said then. The harshness of his tone made me take a step back. “Intentions don’t mean anything. It’s what youdothat counts.”
I jumped on that, relieved to meet him somewhere he could understand. “That’s what I’m doing now. No more secrets. And if being honest means I never play another minute of hockey, so be it. But I needed to tell you. This is how I feel. I can’t deny it any longer. Not to you, and definitely not to myself.”
He took a deep breath, shoulders rising until he was full up. Then he let it out slowly, glaring at me the whole time. The lack of response lasted long enough for me to realize I’d fucked up. Big time. He was going to cut me from the team for good and nobody else would want to touch me. I’d be washed up before I got the chance to really begin.
“You’re right.”
My mouth dropped open. “I am?”
“You disrespected me,” he said. “And Cass, by pretending this was nothing when it’s clearly not. If your word’s any good, that is.”
“It is.” I was breathless. Even shaking a little. “When it comes to her, it totally is.”
He grunted, and shook his head. I was afraid to move, and just stared at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Is that all?” Coach stood up and grabbed his marker again.
“Uh—”
“Get out of here and suit up,” he barked. “Quit wasting my time.”
I spun round and darted from his office, hardly believing how well that went. He told me to suit up. I confessed my love for his daughter, and he told me to suit up.
“Where the hell have you been?” Grayson tossed my jersey over when I joined them in the locker room.
“Just had something to take care of real quick,” I said, grinning like an idiot.
