Page 42 of Penalty Box
Because if it had been him… I wasn’t ready. Not after the interview.
No girlfriend. No prospects. Just focusing on hockey.
My stomach tilted and I rolled over onto my side, staring through the slit in the curtains. I knew why he’d said it. Coach’s rules, timing, pressure… All of them were very good reasons to keep things under wraps, especially from the media. But still.
He’d looked straight at the camera and said I was no one.
And even though I understood it, the moment lodged under my skin like a burr.
A knock at the door broke through my spiral and I turned, heart thumping hard against my ribs. Was this why Mason wasn’t at the bus?
The knock came again.
More insistent.
I crossed the room, pausing at the mirror to check my hair. At least it didn’t look like I’d just woken up. The wrinkles in myBlondie T-shirt were barely visible with the French tuck I had going on. Jeans. Not torn.
I opened the door with the easy smile I’d been practicing, and it fell flat almost immediately.
“Dad?”
Sharp-pressed windbreaker, university logo on the chest. A frown that had never quite left his face since I was fifteen and Mom died.
“Don’t ‘Dad’ me.” He came in without an invitation, paced the small motel room a few times, then planted himself right at the window where I was standing a few minutes ago. “I’m afraid to ask what you’re doing here. Especially after our talk.”
My brain went into overdrive, lie upon lie collapsing onto each other. “It’s for school,” I blurted out.
His phone call when Mason and I were, well, quizzing each other sent a cold panic through me. I was sure he was going to call me out on what Mason and I were doing. But it was about work, and that I’d been slacking with the product order admin.
“Cass.”
“No, really,” I said, closing the door. This was going to be a thing, then. “It’s an extra credit thing. I cleared it with the crew. Also, we’re playing away in my hometown. Why wouldn’t I come along for this trip?”
He said nothing, just shoved his hands in his pockets and continued to glare at me. The tendons in his jaw twitched dangerously, and the vein in his forehead told me I was skating on thin ice.
“Professor Ellis said it’s a good idea for my real-world application class, to—”
“Professor Ellis, huh?” The challenge in his voice struck me dumb. “Would that be the same Professor Ellis who emailed me about the classes you’ve missed? The projects you’ve submitted late or not at all?”
Well, shit.
“He’s not supposed to share my—”
“He’s concerned, and frankly, Cass, so am I,” Dad said. “You’re throwing away years of work, and for what? You’re spending all this extra time at the arena, with the team…”
“I’m not throwi—”
“Yes you are. And don’t pretend this is just about school. I know when you’re flailing. Distracted. I’m programmed to spot that shit a mile off.”
My chest tightened. He knew about Mason. That was why he came here. He knew what we’d been up to and all hell was about to break loose.
“I don’t care what you think you’re seeing,” I said, allowing my frustration to bleed into my words. “I’m not on your squad, Dad. I’m not some breakout star you need to micro-manage.”
“You’re my daughter, goddamnit!” Forehead vein got a friend, and I was scared my dad was going to stroke out on me. “You’re my responsibility, whether you like it or not.”
“I’m not a kid,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. It was the best defense I had. “I stopped being your re—”
“You never stop being my responsibility.” It came out softer, exhausted. The fight he blustered in with had blown out. “I care about you, and your dreams. I want things to work out for you, and I can’t stand by and watch you piss it down the drain because of stress or whatever.”
