Penalty Shot (Winnipeg Avalanche Hockey #3)

Chapter 1

DENNIS “DENNY” WILLOW

The water burns as I turn my face up into the spray. I think I can feel my muscles squeeze. They haven’t released tension in weeks. As the days tick by, my body feels like one big bundle of knots covered in flesh.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to fix this. All I’m doing is making it worse—not that she knows that. She doesn’t know what a piece of shit I am.

She must suspect, right?

“Denny?”

I turn my face down toward the curtain just as my teammate and one of my closest friends, Zenia Talmage’s head pokes in. He’s frowning. “You’ve been in here for like an hour. You okay?”

“Just trying to boil off the first few layers of my skin.”

His eyes flicker over my body, and his frown deepens. “Come over? Carson’s already let himself in. Ren is dropping Felton off at home.”

I nod. “Sure.”

He watches me for a minute and then takes a step back. The curtain of the shower stall falls closed, swinging back into place before it becomes still again. Once more, I close my eyes and turn my face into the boiling spray of water.

It feels like little needles slapping my face.

The back of my neck and shoulders are numb to it.

I don’t think it’s actually hot enough to burn me.

I can’t imagine I’d be able to stand under the water that long.

I also think that Zenia would have said something if I were becoming covered in blisters.

Sighing, I turn around so I’m fully facing into the spray and flinch. Yeah, that’s fucking hot. I squirm as it hits my dick. Ouch. Once I get re-accustomed to the hot water, I squirt some shampoo into my hands and scrub my hair.

The heavy steam feels good in my lungs. I concentrate on the way it cleanses everything that feels blocked up as I scrub my head. There’s nothing I hate more than sweaty, oily, or otherwise dirty hair. I can deal with anything else, but not when my hair feels gross.

By the time I leave the shower, I’m the last one in the locker room. It’s silent as I make my way to my cubby and finish drying off. Every sound I make feels loud since I’m alone.

I move as if I’m in a daze. The world feels like it’s closing in around me, and I know I need to do something about it when my engine cuts off and I don’t recall my drive to Zenia’s house at all. I flinch. Might as well walk straight into death if that’s how I’m going to behave.

Like a fucking idiot.

I’m the only one who can change my situation.

I know that. The guilt I’ve stacked up over the past seven months since Sally told me she was pregnant and I answered that with one shitty decision after another now feels like a vinyl suit.

It gets tighter and tighter. It’s almost closed around me so thoroughly that I can’t inhale.

This is the bed I made for myself.

Standing in front of Zenia’s front door, I take a deep breath and hold it until my lungs hurt.

Then I let it out slowly, trying to release some of the anxiety that clings to my shoulders.

I’m about to face my friends and they watch like fucking hawks.

I wouldn’t be surprised if they see that I’m no longer gently treading water.

I’m beginning to sink.

With a quick series of knocks on the front door, I let myself in. Zenia comes around the corner as I kick my shoes off.

“Dude, Kroy made it here before you. I thought you drowned in the shower,” he says.

His comment feels far too close to my sinking metaphor I’d just been thinking about, and a chill races along my spine. “Nah. Just enjoying the hot water,” I tell him as I follow into the living room where the others are. “Relaxing my muscles.”

“You look like you were hit by a bus,” Kroy comments, frowning. “What’s up?”

I drop onto the couch and shake my head.

Life is catching up. All my poor judgment is about to explode in front of me.

Pretending it’s all good is becoming harder and more difficult to portray convincingly.

I should have gone home today. If anyone is going to see through my facade, it’s going to be these guys.

“Just sore. I really need a massage,” I comment and yawn. “Also tired.”

Yes, I hear the words coming out of my mouth. All the excuses in the world. Anything but facing my problems.

Kroy gets up and leaves the room. I watch him go before letting my head fall back and closing my eyes. The sound of something moving along the floor makes me open my eyes again and I watch Kroy bring in an office chair from somewhere.

“Up,” Kroy says, kicking my foot. “Come on.”

“Why?” I ask without moving.

He leans down and hauls me up by the front of my shirt. Kroy is deceptively strong. Not that you’d look at this man and think weak, but I’m a big guy. I work hard on my muscles, and muscles are heavy.

Kroy shoves me toward the chair, but when I go to sit, he turns me to face it and urges me to straddle. Giving him a bemused look, I do as I’m told. He shoves me forward so I’m pressed against the back. Laughing, I look at him over my shoulder in time to see him follow, shadowing me on the chair.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

His hand grips my hair, and he turns me to face forward. Muscle memory of the last time he pulled my hair has my blood heating dramatically. I once said that I’d let Kroy fuck me if he talked to me in all the dirty ways I’ve witnessed him praising Felton.

He took me seriously. I was curious enough about that big dick of his that I agreed, and… well, I have fewer questions these days. I wouldn’t say I’m firmly in the bisexual spectrum since I kind of feel like there are a few very big feelings I haven’t entirely worked out inside myself yet.

Because my sexuality is the least of my worries these days.

Kroy doesn’t answer as his hands begin kneading into the tense knots in my back. I drop my head forward without ceremony and groan as he hits knot after knot while moving his hand over my back. I groan like Benny Bop once did.

“That sounds indecent,” Zenia notes.

“It is,” I agree. “Don’t stop. I’ll tip you big after this.”

Kroy laughs. “Boo, why the hell are you one big knot? Everywhere I touch, you’re tense.”

“That isn’t nearly as important as you telling us how you learned to be an expert massager,” I counter.

“Massager,” Kroy echoes. “That’s not a word.”

I mean to wave my hand in dismissal, but there’s a chance that I don’t hear his response at all. His hands are magic. I feel like I’m floating somewhere distant as he expertly digs into my muscles.

I’m momentarily pulled out of the daze when Kroy moves me so he can take my shirt off. I feel like a rag doll as he undresses me. Then the back of the chair releases, and I’m practically rolling forward off the chair before it stops.

Laughter surrounds me, and Ren is under the back to help put me into position so Kroy can reach everything.

He sure as fuck does. I think I’m purring at this point.

Or maybe I’m going to come just like this.

I do feel his big cock pressed against my ass.

The way his hands work me feels both relaxing and arousing, and my dick takes a whole lot of notice.

Considering I haven’t gotten off since Kroy fucked me soon after our second gang bang with Felton Badcock, I’m horny.

“Seriously, Denny. You okay?” Ren asks.

“I already told you,” I grunt, my body twitching as Kroy digs in deep right under my left shoulder blade. “My body aches.”

“Sounds like you’ve been having fun,” Carson teases.

I humph. “Not at all. Not in a couple weeks. Maybe that’s the problem.”

“Looks like you might get off just like this,” Zenia says.

“I’m not going to say no,” I note.

Silence follows my words. Kroy doesn’t stop working on the knots in my back. His hands don’t hesitate at all.

“You want to talk about that?” Ren asks.

“About what? Not getting off recently?”

He snorts. “No, Denny. The reason for the tension you’re carrying around. She’s due soon, isn’t she?”

My entire body stiffens.

Kroy sighs. “I literally just worked on all those muscles, Denny.”

Zenia laughs. “Looks like we identified the source of your sore body. You having fun with your fiancée?”

“No,” I answer. What I don’t say is that I’ve only slept with this woman once—the incident that resulted in her pregnancy.

I don’t tell them I haven’t actually seen her since the company party, when I practically announced our engagement and baby.

I certainly don’t say that Kroy fucked me that night.

“She’s due soon,” Carson notes.

“Next week,” I agree.

“You ready?”

“How is one ready?” I counter. Before I realize what I’m saying, words come flying out of my mouth.

“No, I’m not ready. I’ve never wanted a kid.

Not after growing up in a household where my parents fucking hated each other and I’m pretty sure, though they didn’t hate us kids, they resented us because they believed they needed to stay together ‘for the kids’ because that’s the only way to raise kids—in a home where both parents are present.

I don’t have examples of good parents to look back on.

All I have is what not to do, and yet, I already kind of feel resentful.

Not toward this innocent unborn, but toward myself because I fucked up and I just keep fucking up and I don’t know how to stop being a damn train wreck.

I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this, but no matter what I do right now, Sally is going to be hurt, and she doesn’t deserve that. ”

I suddenly remember where I am and close my mouth with an audible snap of my teeth coming together. My chest heaves as I struggle to keep my emotions in check.

Kroy’s hands on my back have paused. I squeeze my eyes closed. Fuck. When he moves again, it’s to wrap his arms around me. He blankets himself along my back and hugs me tightly. I’m thankful when he doesn’t speak.

Minutes pass. No one says anything. No one moves. I grip Kroy’s thigh, and I think he’s using the way my nails dig into his leg as a gauge for when I’m okay for him to let me go. I’m not okay yet. So he doesn’t let me go.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to vomit that all over you.”

Carson appears on the floor in front of me. He sits, crossing his legs under him. Because of the angle of the back of the chair, his face is right in mine. I’m surprised by the gentle touch when he slowly pushes my hair from my forehead.

“Please don’t ask me if I’ve talked to her about this,” I mutter.

He shakes his head. “I’m going to say something that most people find really controversial. Okay?”

Sighing, I nod. “Sure.”

“I think the best thing you can do for Sally and the baby is walk away.”

My eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, yeah?”

He nods. “Look. We’ve talked on and off about how rigid and narrow the world views literally everything.

Granted, most of our conversations have been in response to sexuality and gender and identity and…

whatever. But that goes for everything else, too.

As you just pointed out, you didn’t have a happy or healthy childhood because your parents did exactly what society expected of them.

They stayed together ‘for the children,’ and you suffered because of it.

You said you grew up in a household where your parents hated each other, and you don’t want that for your kid, right? ”

I swallow, nodding. “Yeah,” I whisper.

“Then don’t let yourself stay in that position, Denny. Whether people want to agree with me or not, you don’t have to be a parent. Yes, it was an accident. You did everything right, didn’t you?”

“If you’re asking if I wore a condom, yes. I did. I’ve never not worn one.”

“I know everyone thinks condoms are the answer to not getting pregnant, but if you read that tiny-ass print, it says they’re not 100% effective.

You fell into that tiny little statistic where the condom failed.

You don’t want your kid to grow up in the same environment you did, and you’re already forcing yourself down the path where that’s exactly how they’re going to grow up. ”

I release a heavy breath. “So what? I abandon them?”

“First, I think you should talk to Sally,” Ren says quietly. “I don’t think you should just ghost her.”

“Of course not,” I agree.

“You should tell her all that, and if she’s the good person you say she is, I think she’s also not going to want to see you around that kid, either. Parenthood forced on someone isn’t going to be good for anyone involved, especially that kid,” Carson says.

I close my eyes. Minutes pass.

“I’m going to tell you something I’ve never shared with anyone,” Carson says, and I look at him.

“When I was eight, I was put into foster care. Not because my parents died or even abused me. But they never wanted to be parents. I was an accident. They tried their best to be the parents I deserved, but they just… weren’t.

They weren’t bad. They didn’t abuse me. But every day as I grew up, I could feel how unhappy they were.

I’d look around me at how my friends and peers interacted with their parents, and I could see how different my life was.

One day, my parents decided it wasn’t fair for anyone involved for this to carry on, so they brought me to foster care. ”

A million things run through my mind as I stare at him. Ren and Zenia stare at him as well. I can feel Kroy watching him over my shoulder.

“That’s the best thing they could have done for me,” Carson says.

“The family who took me home with them—my parents that you’ve met—are amazing, wonderful people.

When I tell you the way I cried after I’d been there for a month because I understood just how different my life felt now being in the presence of parents who loved and wanted me…

” He shakes his head. “Sometimes, the best thing for your kid isn’t to stick around because it’s expected of you.

Sometimes it’s walking away, so that kid isn’t exposed to all the negative feelings you wear like armor every day. ”

Carson’s words feel like freedom is dangling in front of me, and yet, the guilt at thinking about it just adds more weight to my shoulders.

He’s right, though. I know for a fact that staying in an environment where your parents resent you and hate each other is poison.

Yet, I’m just as much a victim of the expectations placed on me as everyone else is, where the right thing to do is support and love my kid.

No one tells you what to do if you simply don’t feel that.