Page 79 of Sin Bin

“Dude, Beaumont, untwist yourpanties.”

Duke Harrison swaggers into view. His nickname, “The Mountain,” is pretty accurate. I’m big, but Harrison is the sort of big that reminds you of the Great Wall of China. Impenetrable. No wonder we put him in between thepipes.

“I’m not wearing panties,” I grunt, dropping to the bench so I can lace up my skates for our game againstTampaBay.

“Your speedo, then,” Harrison quips. “They’re practically the samething.”

The goddamnspeedo.

Thinking of the speedo makes me think ofFamewhich makes me think of Zoe which makes the frustration bloom larger. Fuck. Hannah popping up unexpectedly was the verylastthing I needed, especially when I was just about to tell Zoe how much I loved her. Yeah. Talk about a turn ofevents.

One moment I’m naked and in the arms of the woman I love, and in the next I’m arguing with the woman who stripped me of my human decency and turned me into something despicable. More importantly, I let the fear rock me back. The blinding worry that if I hit rock bottom with Hannah, then I could only imagine the shape I’d be in if Zoeleftme.

And thenshedid.

Because you gave her no reason to stay, youdipshit.

For no less than the hundredth time since Zoe walked out of my house, I deliberate on my next move. My next game play. Because I can’t let her out of my life. I did it once and that was my mistake, my fault, but I can’t do it again. She’s right—I need to start living my life with the same force that I do on the ice. Ineedto—

“You aiming for a stint in the sin bin tonight?” Harrison asks, not getting the hint that I want to be left alone. “Everyone is taking bets on whether you’ll beat your record PIM fromlastyear.”

My gaze cuts to my teammate’s face. “Mywhat?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “You know, your penaltyminutes.”

“I know what the fuck PIM stands for,” I growl, “but what do you mean that everyone istakingbets?”

More with the shifting around. I’ve never seen The Mountain so uneasy. “Last year with Detroit, you racked up 131 minutes for the full season. You’re at that now, and the season isn’t even over. So the guys are betting whether tonight will be the night you tip past yourrecord.”

Surprisingly, I almost want to laugh. It’d be the first time since Zoe walked out on me yesterday. “What’s thepotat?”

“Ten-k.”

I whistle. “Highstakes.”

“I thought so,” Harrison says, chuckling. “For the record, I’ve got you penciled down for 131 minutes, even aftertonight’sgame.”

He doesn’t give the chance to reply, and maybe that’s a good thing because I don’t have the proper words for what I want to say. But once again, Zoe pops up front and center in my thoughts—particularly her comment about me living my life in the penalty box offtheice.

Dawn of a new day and all that, but looks like Harrison is about to become that much richer, if I have anything to sayaboutit.

ChapterTwenty-Six

ZOE

Everyone is crowdedaround the bar at Vittoria during my shift. Yes, I said that—shift.

I quit Golden Lights Media. Probably shouldn’t have done that so impulsively. Make that Disastrous Mistake Number Five-Hundred, please, followed by every single one I’ve ever made with AndreBeaumont.

My gaze latches onto the TV again, where the Blades are up against Tampa Bay. I haven’t stopped to watch the game, too busy slinging cocktails and bringing food out to tables while Manny, the restaurant’s GM, watches me likeahawk.

I talked with my dad today. He was more than accepting of me coming to work at Vittoria, but he’d had something up his sleeve I never saw coming—he wanted me to work at his restaurant, but he wanted me to run thebusiness’sPR.

Tonight, I’m only helping out the staff because we’re so jam-packed with customers that the extra help isneeded.

I slide my hands down over my skirt, ultimately giving in to the draw that is hockey. If I hadn’t quit my job, if I hadn’t quitAndre, I’d be there now, watching him play up from thenosebleeds.

“Everything okay over here?” I ask Carol, the bartender I’d met from a fewweeksago.

---