Page 131 of The Penalty

“This is what you and that asshole agreed on? Pulling me from the pitch? Fuck you, Logan.”

The force of Bennet’s hand slamming against his desk ricocheted through the office. Within seconds, he was in front of me. “I am trying to prevent this from getting worse.” Each word came out calm and measured. “There is CCTV footage of you going after him. Do you want that to go public? I know how much you love a fucking audience.”

Reigning in my emotions sapped every bit of energy from me, but I managed to level a bored stare at my so-called best friend.

“And this footage just magically landed in your lap?”

“Don’t be cute, Maddox. You know damn well I have connections in every corner of this city.” He looked down his nose at me, his eyes glinting with steely knowledge.

“Yes, your grace.” My shoulders stiffened. “This is all well above my pay grade.”

Some of Bennet’s measured control unraveled. “And it’s a good fucking thing. I had all visual evidence of you chasing Jordan down that alley scrubbed from existence.”

I suppressed a flinch at the mention of Jordan’s name. “But he knows about it.”

“Of course he does. This will keep him satisfied for the time being.”

We stared at one another, silently communicating what’s transpired over the years. Bennet looked exhausted. I sensed there was more going on than just my reckless decisions. Whatever it was, it’s not my concern right now.

“Bench me,” I snapped. “Tell the media whatever you want. Tell them I’m sick, I have a broken wrist, I need a fucking nap. Whatever. I’m going to New York.”

“No, you’re not.” Bennet’s slow, even delivery stopped me from walking out the door. “You will train with the club until midweek as directed. Then, you will stay inside your flat and out of the public eye until I tell you to return.”

Keeping my mouth shut was an exercise in restraint. Bennet wasn’t saying all this to me as a friend. He said it as my boss; the guy who controls my career and could sell me to another club if he wanted.

“I’m not only taking your best interests into consideration, I’m also protecting the team. Royal City is one of the founding members of this league and has been here for decades. Our name commands respect. This club will not be dragged into endless controversy because the fucking goalkeeper can’t control himself.”

Swallowing my pride was a bitter pill.

Balancing on the edge of this knife started to wear me down.

“Fine,” I conceded. “We’ll do it your way.”

An exasperated sigh poured into the space between us. “I don’t want to do this. My hands are tied. You know that.”

Bennet’s shoulders slumped but his whole body sagged under the weight of something.

“Yeah, I do.” I studied him. “Can we speak as friends now?”

He eyed me warily. “Depends.”

“What’s going on with you? Nothing’s been the same with all of us since Paris. Cade even noticed.”

That garnered a smile. “If Gallagher noticed, then I must not be hiding it well.”

Victoria’s voice flitted through my head. Be nice to Cade.

“He thinks it’s mostly work related. I think there’s more to it.”

Bennet smoothed down his tie, walked back to his chair, and sat. “You’re both right. That’s all I’m saying.” The hardened edge to his statement signaled we were finished talking.

Later that night, after replaying the events of the day, I sipped on my third glass of whisky and called Victoria.

“The bossy chair makes another appearance.” Her bright voice washed over me when she answered. “You look comfy.”

“You look beautiful.”

“Such a charmer.” She leaned into the couch, tilted her head, and smiled. “Good day at practice?”

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