In the Penalty Box Read online

  It happened as if in slow motion, but not.

  The puck pinged off the upper part of the crossbar; the goalie had totally missed the shot. It cracked against the polycarbonate barrier but hit the corner rail and blasted out of the rink.

  My heart hammered so wildly, I thought it might burst out of my chest.

  “Watch out!” someone else screamed.

  I stood in horror as the puck sailed over the wall and hurled through the air directly at Jessa and me.

  I snatched my bag from beside me and dove forward. With an upward thrust, I swung the bag in front of Jessa. Even through her scream, I heard the puck smack into it. The momentum had me staggering back into a sitting position beside her.

  “Oh my gosh!” Jessa yelled. The puck flopped onto my best friend’s lap, and she screeched again.

  A loud exhale escaped my lips, and goose bumps prickled the back of my neck.

  “Holy crap,” someone said behind us, but I was too rattled to look at who it was. “Did you see that?”

  A few gasps sounded from around me.

  “Shit!” someone from the rink said as Brodie and a couple other players sprinted toward us.

  I turned my attention back to my best friend. “You okay?” My hands were shaking from the adrenaline coursing through my body.

  Jessa looked at me, her face white as the ice. “I—I think so?”

  Her jaw tensed, and her eyes widened. I wasn’t entirely sure she’d blinked yet.

  I picked up the solid black disc from her lap and tossed it into the air. It flipped twice before it landed in my palm.

  I turned my attention back toward the ice and arched an eyebrow at Brodie. “Lose something?”

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  Brodie

  “Sweet skills, Toe Pick.” I dropped the puck to the ice before me, then lifted it to my stick. “Josiah, you think you could have stopped that?”

  Our stocky goalie grinned and shook his head, then looked down at his skates.

  Mystery Girl’s dark eyebrows quirked up, and her lips curled into a mischievous smile that sent a jolt of lightning right down my spine.

  I had no idea who she was, but she was hot. Her tight body was now covered with long sweatpants and a hoodie, but I’d seen her out on the ice earlier, landing some sweet jumps. She had nice, lean, but really strong legs and long black hair in thick braids that went to the middle of her back. The thing that stole the show, though, were her eyes. Bright blue, and even through the three feet separating us, I saw the green flecks shimmer within them. Her skin was smooth and flushed at the apples of her cheeks.

  “I wonder if that was a one-time thing or if you actually have some hockey in ya,” Preach said from beside me.

  I backhanded him, still watching Mystery Girl in complete shock at how she’d knocked my rogue puck down.

  “Oh, it’s not, and I do,” the girl said with a grin, then turned to me. “But I wouldn’t want to embarrass you. I mean, with your name being on the front of the building and all.”

  Shit. She knew who I was because of the sign. I’d much rather her know my name from the three banners hanging on the wall near the clock for lead scorer. Or because she and Jessa were talking about me. But no, Dad had to put “Windom” on the front of the building when he renovated the place.

  “Um…yeah, nice block there.” I gulped through the sudden dryness in my mouth.

  Jessa stood beside her, and she nudged Mystery Girl. “My girl isn’t too shabby with a stick in her hand.”

  A couple of the guys next to me burst out laughing.

  Mortified, Jessa slapped a hand over her mouth.

  “Thanks for that.” The girl chuckled, her cheeks reddening. “I’m Willow, and I’ve held my own on a hockey team before. I mean, it was street hockey, but how much different can it be on the ice?”

  So her name was Willow. It had to have been the first time I’d ever seen her here before, because I would have noticed her for sure. Not that I would have done anything about it. I’d had enough experience with Ice Princesses after dating Sydney last year. I needed to steer clear of that type of drama—and heartache—for sure.

  But seeing this Willow girl knocking down my wild puck, then dishing out the sarcasm right back at me, she didn’t come off as the Ice Princess type. She was all kinds of sexy…and tempting.

  I pushed back, easing away from the wall, and moved the puck back with me. “Thanks for batting that down. I’m glad you didn’t get hurt, Toe Pick.”

  I flipped the puck up onto my stick again and nodded at her, then hustled toward the center line. My heart was hammering, and my hands were sweating under my gloves. It was like I could still feel her gaze on me, piercing through my hockey pads.

  “Look at you, Wind—a cute little figure skater blocked your shot. You must be getting rusty.” Pax smacked my butt as he skated by. “Are we playing or what?”

  With my helmet cradled against my hip, I snuck another glance at Willow and Jessa. They leaned into each other, like they were whispering.

  Probably laughing their asses off at my complete ineptness. First, I’d rammed smack into Willow, totally not meaning to. Then she completely kneed me in the balls when I was helping her up.

  Third, my wild puck almost killed her and Jessa.

  Damn, I was off my game.

  Sure, it was only the first of August—I had time to get in shape these last couple of weeks of summer town league—but still. I had to stay focused. If I didn’t get onto the Boston College hockey team, I’d be the first Windom in three generations to not make it.

  “Dude.” Preach sprayed me as he came to a stop, inches before ramming into me. “I think you have some drool…”

  I punched his shoulder. He was my best friend, knew me better than anyone, so he could probably tell I was intrigued. “Shut it, man.” My cheeks suddenly felt like they were on fire.

  “She is hot, though,” he added.

  “She’s probably an Ice Princess.” I tapped the ice at my feet. “Look what her toe pick is doing to the ice! It’s all chopped up.”

  Preach chuckled, and through his hockey mask, I saw him roll his eyes. “Sure, Brodie. Whatever.”

  “She’s friends with Jessa, huh?”

  “I guess,” Preach said. “I can ask Jessa what’s going on with our mysterious skater friend Willow if you want…”

  I shoved him and jumped into some fast-feet drills to get my blood pumping for our pick-up game. I needed to stay focused. Only two weeks left until the town’s Fall League started, which meant hardcore practices and training.

  I huffed and zeroed in on the ice before me. Her bright eyes, smooth skin, and sexy smile flashed in my mind. Distractions were not an option for me right now. My last two girlfriends had messed with my head and my hockey stats.

  Not this year.

  I had to nail this season.

  Senior year was coming up, and I had to stay on Boston College’s radar. Coach Raymond was the best in college hockey as far as I was concerned. He’d reached out a couple of times, calling my dad and asking how I was doing, but I was sure it was only because of the family name. He hadn’t shown up to any of my games last year or talked to Coach directly about my stats. An awesome season and a State win would definitely get me back on his agenda.

  I sprayed ice at Preach, Teddy, and Nathaniel as I came to a stop by them, then coasted to my left wing position. “Not getting any younger, guys.”

  “Dick,” Teddy Cook said as he readied himself to drop the puck.

  “Hey, Wind!” I didn’t have to look up to know that had been Amanda Fert calling my name.

  “Looks like your girlfriend is here,” Nathaniel Baker said as he leaned forward, ready to slap the puck once it landed.

  Amanda so wasn’t my girlfriend. She was a total puck bunny and only into
me because I was team captain last year, highest scorer, and my name was on the front of the ice arena. She didn’t give two craps about me.

  Preach snickered as our left defenseman, Pax Hunt, dropped the puck, then bolted to his normal position. Nathaniel slapped the puck, using my momentary distraction to his advantage.

  Case in point, no girls.

  I tore after the puck, easily beating Nathaniel to it, and took off. A quick pass to Preach, and then I dodged around Nathaniel and picked up Preach’s return pass. Curling the puck around, I spun, tapped it, then deked and blasted left, leaving our defenseman sophomore, Trevor, in the dust.

  “You ass,” he yelled.

  “Eat it.” I faked right, then slapped the puck.

  Nothing but net.

  I shoved my arms up, my stick in the air, and hollered.

  “Nice one, man.” Teddy rammed into me, and I landed on my stomach, the wind knocking out of me. I curled inward as I slid across the ice, bringing my knees to my chest as I tried to gasp some air in, but none came. Heat flooded my body, and my neck hairs prickled.

  That Teddy sure could double as a left tackle on our football team for how big he was.

  Nathaniel slid to a stop beside us, coating us with a layer of ice. “Damn, Teddy! Roughing the player much?”

  I hopped up and got lost in the pick-up game, falling into my zone. My safe place. Nothing mattered when I was on the ice with my guys. The sting of loss and missing who was right in front of me—all of it was gone. Vapor.

  Only the chill of the ice, my teammates, and the puck existed.

  “Yo,” Teddy yelled.

  I caught his flip pass, and I attacked the zone. Two guys chased me, but I had them. I took the shot, slapping the hell out of that puck.

  Pax mimicked the sound of a horn, signaling a score. Clapping and whistling echoed through the arena from the handful of spectators who always showed for our pick-up games. It was a sound I lived for.

  And if everything went right this year, hopefully a sound I’d hear as a third-generation Boston College hockey player.

  CHAPTER

  THREE

  Willow

  The ping of a skate blade hitting metal rang through the arena, and the bellow that followed sent my stomach lurching.

  The goalie on the side closest to Jessa and me crumpled into himself and fell to the ice, curled up in a ball. I couldn’t see beyond his goalie mask, but I could imagine the pure anguish contorting his face as he desperately clutched his right knee.

  Another bellow sliced through the chilly air. Brodie flew across the ice over to the guy rolling in agony.

  Crap. Seeing an athlete go down that hard was tough for anyone to watch, but it instantly brought me back to the disastrous fall that had caused my Achilles tendon to snap like an overstretched rubber band.

  The back of my heel ached with sympathy pains as the rest of his teammates skated over to him.

  “Josiah,” a woman behind us yelled and hustled down the bleachers to the door leading to the rink. Her open jacket flapped as she ran.

  “His mom,” Jessa said.

  “Josiah. Goalie. Got it.” I hadn’t met many people since I’d gotten to town, but hopefully that would all change once school started. Even if my plan was to only be here for a few months while I rehabbed my injury, I was excited to meet more of Jessa’s friends. Maybe even reconnect with some of the kids I knew in grade school.

  Jessa hadn’t talked about many people while I was living in Colorado, other than Preach and a few others. I had a hard time believing that they never hooked up, but she swore they were only friends.

  When the goalie finally pulled off his mask, I winced—pain twisted his face. This wasn’t a small injury. Poor guy. As Brodie and Preach helped Josiah to his feet, it was clear he wasn’t putting any weight on his right leg and he held it at an angle. Another teammate raced to open the door leading off the rink.

  Holding up his gloved hands, Josiah tried to shake off Brodie and Preach’s help as they approached the wall. What the heck was he doing? He couldn’t even skate, and he was obviously hurt. With a sharp downward motion, Josiah pulled away. Preach and Brodie reluctantly backed off as their teammate limped away from the ice.

  After Josiah left the arena, the players met in the middle of the rink. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but all of a sudden Preach stood tall and waved in my direction.

  My heart started beating faster.

  I glanced over my shoulder, then back to the group. He couldn’t be waving at me, could he?

  Preach and Brodie pushed away from their teammates, waving me to the rink.

  “Dude, come on!” Jessa exclaimed. “Let’s see what he wants.”

  The adrenaline that had faded after I’d gotten off the rink started to course through my veins again.

  We made our way down the bleachers and toward the hard plastic walls surrounding the rink. Even from this distance, I could see the determination in Brodie’s eyes. I knew it because I’d seen that same intensity staring back at me from my mirror before each competition. From what I’d seen so far, the guy did skate like the wind, but what I was most intrigued by was his clear compassion for his teammates. A lot of the girls I trained with were focused on advancing their own career, even if it was at another teammate’s expense.

  “Want to come over to the dark side for a hot minute?” Preach asked with a grin. “We need someone to cover goalie.”

  “You want me to play hockey?” My stomach clenched. As if I’d risk getting hurt. Well, hurt even worse.

  “Just to fill in for the rest of our ice time,” Brodie clarified.

  A few more skaters came up behind Brodie and Preach.

  A guy with blond locks flopping out from beneath his helmet stopped a few inches shy of ramming into Brodie. “The way you shot down my boy Brodie’s wild puck earlier, you gotta fill in.”

  The twang of his voice made it sound like he belonged on a surfboard riding the waves in California more than skating on ice.

  “Yeah, yeah, Nathaniel.” Brodie smacked the guy in the chest. “Like you haven’t sent one flying before.”

  Nathaniel coughed from Brodie’s punch, then shoved off him, coming closer to where I was standing. “Wait a second…” He pulled up his helmet and nailed me with a stare. “You used to play street hockey with us a billion years ago. You’re Willow Covington?”

  Oh my gosh…I’d forgotten. A warm feeling spread through my chest at the thought that I’d know a few more people than Jessa at Woodhaven High. “Nathaniel! That’s right.”

  “Your grams used to bring us orange slices when we played…and Kool-Aid. The red flavor.” Nathaniel laughed, his dark blue eyes flickering. I remembered those eyes now, and his blond hair. It was whiter back then and closely shaved. I totally hadn’t recognized him standing here now, a strapping six-foot-tall guy.

  He was so shy back in the day, hardly said a word to any of the girls playing with us.

  “Dude, did you just call red a flavor?” Brodie laughed.

  “Yeah, everybody loves red Kool-Aid!” Preach backhanded him.

  I laughed.

  “See, she thinks I’m funny,” Brodie added. My cheeks felt piping hot.

  Another guy skated forward. His eyes shifted from my face to my chest. “Give it a shot, Twinkle Toes. I mean, you can obviously skate.”

  Ugh, what a jerk. “Hey, asshole, my eyes are up here.” I ground my teeth and fisted my hands as I stared him down.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll take it easy on you.” The guy winked at me, and I kind of wanted to punch him in his sexist face.

  I opened my mouth to respond but stopped when Brodie shoved him. “Don’t be a jerk, Pax.”

  The Neanderthal skated away, chuckling, but Brodie stayed where he was and nodded toward me. “I know you’re all about the tripl
e axels, not the five-hole, but it’s only a pick-up game. What do you say? You in?”

  That was a great question. My heart rate ticked up a beat at the idea of getting back on the ice, but it was definitely a risk. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jogging pants and let out a breath from my tight chest.

  One of the guys, still wearing his helmet, left the group to retrieve Josiah’s stick from inside the goal. Instead of heading back toward his teammates, he punched the goal. The anchor released, and one side swung back violently.

  The guys all turned toward him.

  “You okay, Trevor?” Preach called over his shoulder.

  He offered a nod but ripped off his helmet and threw it across the ice.

  “It’s fine. Give him a second to cool down.” Preach’s jaw tensed, then he said, “Josiah said he wanted us to keep playing and we have an hour left, so are you in?”

  Before I could answer, the kid Brodie had called Pax huffed and shook his head. “She wouldn’t last five minutes in goalie gear. It’s not sequined enough.”

  My nostrils flared, and that hot anger that jerk had ignited in me before when he was staring at my chest flared to life again.

  “You scared of a figure skater kicking your ass, Pax?” Brodie said with a chuckle.

  Oh, it was on! That Pax guy needed to be shown a thing or two.

  Drops of sweat beaded on my brow.

  Brodie locked eyes with me, and I almost got lost in the pools of dark brown and amber. “Come on, Willow. Are you really just a figure skater or can you throw down?”

  Scared? Me? I wiggled my fingers in anticipation as my heart started pounding out a rhythm.

  “We saw you skating. You’ve totally got this,” Preach said, a smile filling his face. “We’ll track down some gear for you.”

  “Yeah, you totally used to own Heron Lane,” Nathaniel added as a fluttering sensation spread across my stomach.

  “I have my little brother’s old stuff in my trunk. We were going to drop it off at Goodwill.” Jessa bolted up the stairs, adding, “I’ll be right back.”

  “Go get ’em, Champ.” I heard a new voice add to the mix. I spun around, my gaze landing on Gramps. “Show those boys what you’re made of.”