Breakaway (Beyond the Play, #2)(63)
Penny meets my gaze. She smiles, and it knocks the fucking air from my lungs. She’s goddam perfection. The only thing that would make it better would be if she was wearing my sweater. I want everyone in the whole arena—even her father—to know she’s mine.
I can only hope that one day she lets me have her. Not just in bed, and not just as friends. I want all of her, every bit—the ones I know and adore already, and the ones I don’t, but hope to one day. I’m earning her trust one little puzzle piece at a time, and while I don’t have the whole picture, I know that when I do, I’ll love it.
As McKee’s athletic director steps up to the microphone to introduce the game, Nikolai leans in. “Where have you been hiding that sister of yours, Callahan? You’ll need to introduce me.”
I shove my mouth guard into place. “Suck my dick.”
He grins, his gaze dark. He has a scar down the side of his face, like he’s actually trying to be a Soviet-era Bond villain, and a fading bruise on his jaw that I wish I’d been the one to give him. “What about the ginger? She looks like she gives good head.”
“Thank you,” the athletic director says. There’s applause, but it sounds subdued, like it’s coming from underwater. Fucking prick. The referee gestures for Brandon and the UMass center to get into place for the faceoff.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” I say quietly. “Don’t talk about my sister or my girl.”
Nikolai holds my gaze, but we’re forced to break it when the referee says, “Gentlemen. Positions.”
I skate to my spot, tapping my stick twice against the ice. I have to fight the urge to look over at Penny again. The puck drops. Brandon lunges forward, gaining possession and passing to Mickey as he skates to the blue line, and we’re off.
I’m playing for my family. My father.
But most of all, I’m playing for my Lucky Penny.
37
COOPER
As it turns out, CBS does want an interview. The reporter catches up to me in the tunnel right when the game ends. We won in overtime, thanks to a beauty of a goal by Mickey, and I’m still sucking wind, sweat dripping from me like I’ve just climbed out of a pool. I had to literally throw myself in front of a couple of shots on the net, which means I’m sure to have a bunch of fancy new aches and pains once the adrenaline wears off.
“Hi Cooper, I’m Kacey Green from CBS Sports. Mind if we chat for a few minutes?” she says with a camera-ready smile. She’s wearing a pine-green dress that complements her deep brown complexion, and even though she has heels on, she barely comes up to my chest. I feel like a huge, sweaty monster compared to her, but she must be used to it, because if she thinks I smell, she doesn’t show it.
I lean on my stick. “Of course.”
“Fantastic game,” she says. “Do you feel like it showcased what you’re hoping to bring to the league?”
I try my best to ignore the cameraman standing next to her as I bend down to speak into the microphone. It would be weird to talk about myself after such a great group effort, so I say, “Thanks, Kacey. The whole team played great. We had a tough loss to UMass earlier in the season, so it’s exciting to keep the Turkey Freeze trophy here for another year.”
“But you really put it all out there today.”
“Yeah.” I laugh a bit, wincing when that makes my gut ache. “Pressed well on the forecheck, blocked some shots. It was a good effort.”
“You were recently named captain.”
“Yes. I’m honored that Coach and the team chose me.”
“You and Nikolai Abney-Volkov are the highest ranked defensemen in Division I men’s hockey,” she says. “Your stats are nearly identical this season. The Sharks drafted Volkov in the first round of the first year you were both eligible, but you chose to remain undrafted.”
I wait for a question, but she pauses, so I just nod. Fucking Nikolai.
“Do you have any regrets about holding out for a deal after graduation?”
“I…” Before the season started, I would have said yes, I’d rather be at the pro level, putting all my energy into the one thing I care about most in the world. Let me scrap and enforce our zone and fight for my ice time like everyone else. But now? I’m not so sure. If I was in the league already, I wouldn’t have met Penny. If someone gave me the choice between sticking out the rest of college or entering the league tomorrow, I don’t know what I’d say.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see my father. He’s leaning against the wall as he talks to someone on the phone, half in shadow, but I can feel him looking at me. Maybe other dads wouldn’t wear slacks, a collared shirt, and a cashmere sweater to see their sons play hockey, but he still gets recognized everywhere he goes, so his standards aren’t the same as most. Technically, he’s not even allowed back here, but I’m sure someone recognized him and waved him through.
We fought about whether I would enter the draft for most of my senior year of high school. The resentment ran so deep that we hardly spoke to each other for months. It’s mostly faded now, a part of the past I have no interest in reliving, but as Kacey’s question echoes in my mind, and as I look at my father, no doubt able to hear our conversation, I feel the sting. He’s never understood how the world of professional hockey differs from football, and he’s never cared to learn, either.