Page 78 of Penalty Box
His eyes flicked to Mason and back again. “Then why’d you keep it a secret? Why didn’t you trust me with it?”
“Because—” The pent up panic and anxiety I’d been carrying spilled out of me, and I raised my voice without meaning to. “I knew you’d judge me before you gave him a chance. I knew you’d make it out to be this horrible thing, when it’s actually the exact opposite.”
“Cass—”
“You didn’t even ask,” I interrupted, unable to stop the flow of words that trembled around the edges. “You just assumed the worst.”
“He’s changed you.”
“I’m twenty-one, Dad, not twelve,” I shot back. “I’m not some little girl getting influenced by the bad type. I make my own choices. Mason didn’t corrupt me, or whatever you decided happened. I chose this. I chose him.”
A silence settled over the room, broken only by the sound of the air conditioning whirring in back. Up until now, Mason still hadn’t said anything, and I didn’t blame him.
My dad stared at me for a long while, then asked, “Do you love him?”
“Sir—”
“It’s Coach,” my dad snapped at Mason. “And I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to my daughter.”
It was hard to breathe under the weight of his question. So jarringly simple and direct.
I glanced at Mason, but couldn’t hold eye contact for longer than a second. My heart was pounding too hard. Mouth dry. It felt as if any movement, any answer, would give me away.
Dad shook his head slowly. He looked ten years older and dog-tired. “This might be fun and games to you. Some exciting love affair. But it’s his livelihood you’re playing with.”
I bristled, but kept my cool. “It’s not a game to me.”
“That boy’s on the edge of a career-defining season,” he said, pointing to Mason. “One slip-up, one scandal or damaging headline, and it’s all over. Do you understand that? Do you want to be the reason he loses everything? Can you handle that kind of responsibility?”
It’s like he’d dunked me in an ice bath. Like he didn’t know me at all.
He raised me around hockey. It’s all I knew because of him. Of course I’d thought about it. Every single time I’d walked away from Mason it was more for his own good than mine. It was me not wanting to get in the way of his one shot. I thought about it all the time.
But hearing the way my dad said it… as if I was the danger, the weak link that would be Mason’s ultimate undoing. It made me feel small. Like there was no place for me in his world at all.
“It’s all I think about,” I said quietly. “I would never get in the way of Mason’s career. But at the same time, we’re adults who can make our own decisions. You need to let us.”
Dad sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Then I’m going to need you to start acting like it. Because once this gets out there, I won’t be able to protect you. And he won’t be the only one under a magnifying glass. We just went through this last season with Grayson and Josie. It’shard, Cass.”
I flinched, but didn’t respond.
He looked at me, softer now, his voice more final. “I just want you to be careful, Cass. Mason’s on his way up, and that means his hockey will always come first.”
I glared at him, my chest on fire. My voice shook when I spoke, but I said what I needed to say. “I know. That’s how it’s been my whole life with you. Always second. Or third. To your team. The game. Thanks to you, I’m well-versed in warming the bench while hockey takes center stage.”
I got up, without sparing a glance in Mason’s direction, and stormed out.
24
Mason
The hallway smelled like oil and old rubber. Cass sometimes carried the scent on her, and I thought about how the hell I was going to survive these halls after what I was about to do. My skates clinked with each step, hooked over one shoulder. The sound of distant drills echoed from the practice rink. Playoffs tonight. Game one against Vancouver, and the guys were practically jumping out of their skin with excitement. And me? Instead of being locked in and totally focused, I was walking next to Cass, nervous as hell.
She had her hair tied back, little wisps fraying around her cheeks. She wasn’t supposed to be working today, but here she was.
“So, are you going to tell me why you asked to see me?” Cass kept her voice even, but I didn’t miss the tension strung tight underneath.
“I needed to talk. Before tonight,” I said, tearing my gaze from her face. That on its own was a special kind of torture.
