Page 23 of Penalty Shots

I would always pick hockey. Because when I was the most alone in this world—hockey was the only thing that gave me a family when I needed it the most.

I look at the clock. Six more minutes.Fuck. I'm cold.

I switch the puck to the other hand and start to roll it around and around in the same way, moving my wrist—my dad's signature flipping in and out of view as I do.

"Take care of your sister."I hear his hoarse voice faint in my memories."And son, I believe in you. Go all the way, Keelan."

That night. That dark, fateful night—with eyes puffy from crying, knowing I would never hear my mother's voice again, holding my six-year-old sister as he spoke his final words. That dark night, my dad planted a tiny seed of light.

He gave me the path I would need to follow. I would finish what he started. All the years of training. All the investment. I would make him proud.

And I have. I think. I would hope.

Five more minutes.

I sink a little further in, feeling the ice-cold water play at the nape of my neck. I came so close to losing it all last year.

The accident that we never speak of… it must've been almost exactly a year ago.

Man-child.

I wasn't such a man-child when she got up from her seat at the back of the plane and cleared her throat so that I would notice just a row ahead of her.

I wasn't such a man-child when I met her in the bathroom while my sister and most of my teammates slept to the hum of the plane's engines.

Or when I looked around to make sure the flight attendants weren't watching before I came up behind her as she opened thebathroom door and grabbed her by the hips, pressing myself to her like I hadn't done in years.

She had let out the tiniest of moans. That stoic, rock-hard facade of hers crumbled with every word I whispered into her ear.

She still wanted me.

She still hoped.

I could feel it in every fiber of my body.

Even as my hand slid up her shirt and took hold of her breast. Even as our lips met in frantic, needy movements.

She knew it. And I knew it.

We spent over a decade resenting each other. Only to be brought together by the very thing that tore us apart—hockey.

But I was a player. And she was staff. And she made it very clear that's how it would have to be.

And I respected her choice.

Until… Redmond.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

I pull myself out of the bath, surprised at how fast the time went by thinking of her.

A door closes somewhere in the hall, and I can hear familiar voices echoing down its corridors.

"Hello, Mack."

"Did you get my—"

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