Page 26 of Penalty Box
He turned to face me fully, arms crossed, mouth tight. “You seriously thought it wouldn’t blow back on the team?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but didn’t get the chance.
“You’re in uniform,” he said, his voice sharp, eyes sharper. “So you’ll play tonight. But you’re not just screwing around with your own ice time, Calder. You’re playing with ours.”
“I didn’t post it,” I said, jaw tight. I respected the man, but I wasn’t going to let him turn this into the problem it wasn’t. Not Cass. “Yourgirlfriend did. I didn’t even know she was there. Or filming.”
“That’s not the point. You were making out in the middle of a coffee shop, when you know the heat we’re taking from the press as is.”
I straightened. “We weren’t—”
“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “People will think what they think. Trust me, I know more than anyone. That clip is everywhere. Your name, her face. You think Coach won’t have to answer for it with the board? Yeah, he’s going to be real happy about that.”
Hunter stood up, wedging himself part way between us. “Okay, let’s just take it down. Mason hasn’t done anything wrong. He went out with a girl. Big whoop.”
Grayson didn’t even blink in his direction. “You want to win this season?”
“You know I do.”
“Then get your head out of your ass, and back in the game where it belongs. The Stanley has our name on it, but only if you’re focused. Weneedyou, Mason.” He was done with me, and stomped off to prove it.
I stared at his back, at the Surge logo stitched between his shoulders. I wanted to chase after him, to tell him how hypocritical it was for him to criticizemeafter he and Josie had fucked around all last season and during the playoffs. But I didn’t move, because the fight was draining out of my skates.
For the first time since I’d been drafted, I felt like I didn’t belong in this room.
“Take it easy, bro,” Hunter said, ignoring the side glances he was getting from the guys. “It’ll blow over like these things always do. Just focus on the game, and you’ll be fine.”
Coach stormed in, clipboard under one arm, already barking names for the lines. He’d done some rearranging, apparently. He didn’t look at me until the very end.
“Calder,” he said, looking up from the roster sheet. “You’re skating third tonight.”
My heart dropped. “What?”
“Excuse me?” The man glared at me like he wanted to take a stick to my head. “You want to warm the bench instead? Because I can make that happen.”
“No, Coach, I just—”
“Then shut up and get your helmet on.”
I clenched my teeth so hard it felt like my molars would crack. Third line. It was barely above being benched.
“You should be grateful I’m not pulling you completely,” Coach added, scribbling something down with a red pen. “You should be chasing the Cup, and that’s all.”
I stuck my helmet under my arm and made for the door. “Be right back.”
Nobody stopped me. Not even Hunter. We were minutes from the game, but I couldn’t go out there without talking to Cass first.
I jogged the familiar hallways like a man on a mission. She hadn’t answered any of my texts or calls since this whole thing went down. I didn’t know if she was mad or embarrassed. But still. I just needed her to let me explain.
I checked the maintenance room. Door cracked, lights off.
“Cass?” I knocked. No answer.
Ice level. No sign of her at the Zamboni controls. Bathrooms, nope. Media booth, locked.
It was like she’d gone up in smoke.
“Looking for your girlfriend?”
