64. Penn
sixty-four
penn
She’s never going to forgive me.
I’ve kept this secret for far too long. In a way, it felt like a different life. She pulled me out of my head, out of everything, and made me be present with her. Through the phone. Through her candidness. As L., I had conversations with her that I don’t think would’ve happened as Penn.
As me.
That hurts. It’s been hurting for a while, a lingering bruise that I keep pressing on when I get bored or tired or comfortable. The ache, after some time, became soothing.
But the act of touching it, irritating it, over and over again? It meant it couldn’t heal. It meant there was no way I could confess to her. Even when I spoke to her on the phone as L., my heart hammered. I spoke low, but I kept waiting for her to call me out.
For her to recognize me.
And in her room—the same thing. I pushed her against the desk and I fucked her, and I kept waiting for that moment of realization. The part where she was supposed to say, “Oh, I recognize this dick. Penn, you jokester!”
Probably would’ve worked better if she saw my dick instead of just felt it. The tattoo—a fucking spiral that I got drunk one night my freshman year, some stupid hazing shit on the hockey team—would be a dead giveaway.
Instead…
I took it too far.
I take everything too far.
As soon as I realized there was a way out of my small, nobody-leaves hometown, I leaned into it. Hockey was my escape. It had been an emotional escape for years prior, sure. But a physical escape? I went from practicing with the team to extra hours on the ice, a private goalie coach… anything and everything.
It’s not like I thought I would get into the NHL. Goalies have a harder time than anyone, because teams only need two of them compared to the eighteen players across the other positions.
Competitive.
I am competitive. It’s how I got into Framingham State U and became a Viper. I worked my ass off until recruits noticed me.
So it may or may not be a reasonable leap to want Sydney to notice me. Both as L. and Penn. Or any way possible.
It’s just so stupid, it’s not even fucking funny. And now she’s hurting because it feels like a betrayal or some cruel joke. That’s how she thought of it in the beginning.
Me, too.
It was just supposed to be… a game. A game where only one of us got exploited.
“Focus,” Carter snaps at me.
I cringe. “I’m in it.”
Oliver groans through his teeth. “Yeah, fucking right. Vete a la chingada .”
Oh, I know that one. Fuck yourself . Figures.
We’re bouncing our way down a forgotten back road toward the mechanic’s warehouse where we fight. Because that’s where Bear and Oliver took Sydney the first time, and Carter says it would be stupid for him to take her anywhere else.
The police still have the apartment under surveillance—her dad mentioned that at practice the other day, offhandedly. Like we wouldn’t be upset by it, or shocked…
I don’t know, maybe he meant it to just be a conversation piece. Or reassuring. “Don’t worry, the police are still keeping an eye on her apartment.” Not, “By the way, the police are watching her apartment, so don’t do anything fucking dumb.”
Whatever.
I cross my arms. My stomach is in knots over what we’re going to find at the warehouse.
Bear seems to have gone into full psycho mode—judging by the unhinged mask with a note anyway. I’ve got nothing to base that assumption on besides that. But isn’t that enough? If he took her…
“Should we call the police?” I ask, leaning forward between the seats.
“And what happens if they blame it on us?” Carter snaps. “The police already think she has something to do with her mom…”
Fuck. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “On top of all of this shit, I forgot about that.”
“Of course you did,” Oliver says in a low voice. “You only care about fucking Sydney.”
He continues in Spanish and completely loses me, but I do catch cullero . Asshole.
Well, I’m not about to bare my soul to them when they’re pissed at me. If I did that, they’d just have ammo to use against me later. I know how Oliver works… I can imagine Carter has the same mode of operation.
Most assholes pull from the same playbook.
So instead of letting the guilt over forgetting about her mom—temporarily, for fuck’s sake—I say, “I happen to enjoy her body. And if it gets her mind off of things for a while, who am I to take that from her?”
“Her mind’s not what’s getting off,” Carter mutters.
“All hail King Carter, the saint of the group,” I snap. “Like you didn’t rent an apartment across from her building to spy on her.”
Oliver chokes. “What?”
“Oh, did he not tell you?” I cross my arms. “He’s a stalker.”
“I just wanted to keep an eye on her,” Carter mumbles. The tips of his ears turn red.
“He copied her key,” I add. “I at least break in the old-fashioned way.”
Oliver’s wheezing now. “Are you telling me you’ve both been breaking into her apartment…?”
Carter shrugs. “I mean… Penn’s been fucking her while she sleeps, but I’ve just been watching her.”
The wheezing stops. I lower myself in my seat, scowling at both of them. “She’s fine with it, by the way. You could’ve added that.”
“She didn’t know?—”
“She found out,” I interrupt. “Focus—there’s the warehouse.”
Carter pulls slightly off the road and kills the engine. We’re still a good distance away, which isn’t too much of a problem. For me. And Carter. Oliver is another story entirely.
Actually…
He hoists himself out of the car, his face a mask of pain, and I frown. I can’t be the one to suggest he stay behind, though, right? That would not fly.
I turn expectantly at Carter, who’s eyeing Oliver with the same concern. He opens his mouth, but Oliver shoots him a look.
Carter shakes his head slowly.
Now they’re having silent conversations?
What happened to me and Carter being pals?
“We can’t go in there empty-handed,” I say.
Carter nods. He moves to the trunk, popping it with a button on his key. He flips up the mat, unveiling a locked case. When that opens with a press of his thumb, it reveals a gun and two knives.
“Why do you have this?” Oliver asks in a low voice. “Are those even legal?”
“Um…” Carter makes a face. “My parents believe in the right to bear arms. So technically, yes, totally legal. For them. Well, for my uncle, who has a concealed carry license.”
We stare at him.
“What?” He picks up the gun and does some mojo on it, sliding back the top and then clicking in a magazine from the bottom of the handle. “Every summer since I was old enough to walk, I’d be out hunting with my family. Gun knowledge is essential.”
“Obeying the law, not so much.” Oliver exhales. “How illegal is this?”
Carter shifts. “Let’s just try not to shoot anybody.”
“Great.” I wipe my hand down my face. “Okay, clock’s ticking. You keep the gun?—”
I take a knife. It’s not a folding one, like what Carter usually carries on him. This is a weapon. The blade itself is five, maybe six inches long, with a wicked curve at the top to a gleaming, sharp point.
“Here.” Carter pushes a leather sheath into my chest. “So you don’t cut your hand off. And hold it like this.” He takes the knife from my hand and flips it the other way, so the blade isn’t near my thumb, but my pinky.
“Great.” I nod, then sheath it. I tuck it into the waistband of my jeans and shake out my limbs. “Ollie?”
Oliver moves slower, taking the last knife. He holds it as Carter instructed, seeming more comfortable with it than me. Maybe he spent time as a kid… carving?
Funny. Probably not, though.
As a trio, we head toward the warehouse. There’s a car parked outside, the trunk open and empty. My blood chills, but I force myself to keep moving.
The zone I drop into is no different than when I step in front of the net. Clear head, focused. It’s what Sydney needs.
We enter through a side door. This place was owned by Oliver’s mom’s uncle. He passed away a few years ago, but nothing with his estate—including this building—has been settled. Because of all the claims on it, it’s been caught up in the courts ever since.
Which made it the perfect spot to use when we needed to get out of the public eye.
Now, I’m kind of regretting it. Definitely regretting ever bringing Bear.
I remember trying weed in here for the first time, the last hockey game of the season finished and a circle of my teammates on the floor. Playing a stupid game of pass the joint while we waited for girls to join us.
Bear was with us.
I remember hiding from my parents here, when my dad was on a rampage about something or another. I think it was when I crashed his car… Not on purpose, of course. It was an accident, but he took it to be intentional.
Carter lets me take the lead, sandwiching Oliver between us. I remove my knife slowly, holding it like he demonstrated.
The warehouse is split up into two main sections: the mechanic bay, where there are huge garage doors and car lifts, even abandoned toolboxes like Oliver’s great-uncle’s employees just suddenly walked out one day, and no one came back. Then there’s the warehouse. It’s all open, in a way, but the majority of the open space is there. What was once filling that space—pallets of supplies, parts, tires—all got pushed against the walls.
Then, of course, there’s the old offices and storage room for more delicate things. Oliver once said his uncle liked to be able to lock away the more expensive parts, the stuff that might be jacked more easily or whatever.
We used to play seven minutes in heaven in that storage room.
I inch along the raised lift of the mechanic’s bay, using it to shield me.
Something in the distance clanks. Faintly, like chains.
“Oliver?” Sydney’s voice floats out from a far corner of the warehouse.
I glance over my shoulder.
Oliver’s eyebrows are raised. He’s in a half-crouched position, his knife also out.
“Oliver?” she calls again.
“What do we do?” I ask Carter under my breath. “She sounds…”
“She sounds afraid,” Oliver interjects. “She’s calling for me?—”
He moves past me without another word. I grab for his shirt and fucking miss. He straightens and strides out into the open, his knife at his side. I lunge to follow him, but Carter manages to stop me. His arms around my shoulders, dragging me back into the shadows.
“Oliver?” Her voice wobbles.
“Why does she keep calling for him?” I ask Carter. “She doesn’t know we’re here?—”
BANG!
Carter and I both flinch down, but my gaze flies to my best friend.
Oliver wavers for a minute… and then he drops.