Page 22 of Power Plays & Proposals

"Yes!" Penelope took the plate. "Thanks."

"How are you doing, with everything from yesterday and today?" I asked her.

She shrugged and picked up another chip.

I returned to the couch and picked up my plate and cup of hot chocolate. Hannah was still working on her phone, so I took both back with me and sat by Penelope. I could respect not wanting to tell a stranger about everything. "Do you get to see a lot of your Dad's games?"

"When it's my turn with him. Mom doesn't like hockey."

That surprised me.

"She says it's too violent for me to watch."

"Does your dad get in a lot of fights?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes, but normally he's trying to stop the team goons."

"Goons?"

She looked at me as if I was from an alien planet. "Do you know anything about hockey?"

I winced. "Will you hate me if I say no?"

Penelope took my answer as a personal challenge and started to point at the ice and tell me all there was to know about hockey, and the team her dad was the star center on. I may not know a lot about hockey, but it was clear to me from everything I'd seen the last two days that Penelope loved her dad, and he loved her just as fiercely. She talked me through the pre-game rituals, and we stood when the national anthem played.

Player 23 skated to the center of the ice in a blue jersey to face a black and red jersey from the other team. Penelope lit up.

"Dad's the best at faceoffs."

"Faceoff?"

She didn't stop looking at where her dad was getting ready on the ice. "The ref is going to drop the puck and Dad's going to try getting it for his team."

The jumbotron showed that the camera was zoomed in on Nate bent forward on the ice, ready to go. I could see the determination on his face, and then the puck dropped.

Chapter 10

The good thing about a game night? Nobody asked me about the press or Lia, or anything as we each went through warm-ups. The trainers had been particular about making sure I was prepped as best as I could be. My ankle felt pretty good for how much ice time I’d had in yesterday’s game. In the locker room, we each went through our routines. Lou had his big headphones on blasting his music. Daniel was looking at the photo of his wife he'd taped to his locker.

"The smell of your socks is going to kill us all." Lou had his nose pinched as he looked at Matt in the locker next to him. "Please wash them."

"I wash them, we lose."

I shook my head. Superstitious or not, I'd learned long ago not to mess with anyone's routine. Practice days were one thing, but game days- I wasn't going to do anything to put anyone else on edge. Game days had an energy that grew stronger the closer to the puck drop we got. We'd be taking the ice in an hour.

My phone buzzed, I’d thought I’d put it on silent. It was a text from Erin.

You’ve given me no choice. Penelope and I are moving to New York as soon as I sell the house.

Dread and anger hit me with equal measure. She’d threatened to move a thousand times, usually it was accompanied with a request for money. I typed a text back to her.

How much?

Her response was quick.

It’s not about the money. Keeping Penelope in this small town is keeping her from important opportunities.

I frowned and thought to myself, In other words, the opportunities Erin thought she would benefit from.

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