Page 66 of Penalty Box
“You know nothing, Calder.” But I caught the faintest smile pulling at her lips. “You good?”
I nodded, then winced. “Got time to talk?”
She climbed down and dusted her hands on her pants. “Sure. Unless it’s about what happened up on that mezzanine, because—”
“It’s not.”
We stood there, awkwardly for a second. The kind of awkward that comes from shared secrets and recent history that involves body heat and very little clothing.
Cass tilted her head. “So? What’s up?”
“You probably heard Coach Landry—my high school hockey coach— he, uh…”
“I heard.” Her eyes softened along with her tone, tender. She reached out and squeezed my arm. “Sorry.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
She waited, all the sass drained out.
I watched my breath puff in the cold air. “I don’t know. I just keep thinking about those after-school practices. Playing untilthe sun went down. Frozen lakes and busted up sticks and just… God, just loving the game.”
She leaned against the Zamboni, gaze fixed on my face as I worked through what I wanted to say without having any idea what I wanted to say in the first place. She didn’t interrupt.
“It was easy, you know?” I said. She nodded, even though she couldn’t really know but I appreciated that she was with me in it. “You showed up, worked hard, went home. No press. No expectations. No games clashing with funerals.”
Her brow furrowed. “Wait— you mean New York?”
“Next Saturday. We’re away.”
“Mason…” She let out a slow breath.
“Coach wants me as key finisher in power plays,” I said, unable to look at her. “Not like I can miss it when we’re doing this well, and this close to playoffs.”
“You sound like my dad, and I don’t mean that as a compliment.” Her lips pulled in a tight line. “There’s more to life than hockey. Who says you can’t miss one game?”
“My contract,” I replied simply. “My spot on the top line. Coach already called me out for slacking.”
She stepped closer, voice gentler now. “You know what happens after the game next week?” I shook my head, and she went on. “There’ll be another one. And another, and another, and after that? More games. Your high school coach gets buried once. That’s it. He seems like he was like family to you, right? Well, family matters more than ice. You won’t regret missing one game, but you’ll never forgive yourself for missing out on paying your last respects.”
The ice creaked in the distance as the Zamboni cooled. I think I’d been waiting for someone to say those exact words to me.To tell me there was nothing wrong with the way I was feeling. Something in my chest eased.
“Will you come with me?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “To the funeral?”
I sensed her defenses go up, and didn’t blame her. I didn’t even know I wanted her there until I asked the question. But it made total sense.
“Platonically, of course,” I added. “For real.”
Her lips twitched. “Right. Totally platonic.”
“So?” I asked. “You in? It would mean a lot to me to have someone there for support. Which isn’t easy for me to admit.”
She sighed, making me sweat it out a little longer, then said, “Yeah. I’m in.”
20
Mason
