The Penalty Box - Teagan Kade Page 0,29

my panic and stand firm. After all, there are people around—in the distance, yes, but people all the same.

One goon moves behind me, checking left and right, the two others before me, one older and one younger.

The older one stands aside, holding the back door of the SUV open. “You need to come with us.”

I unsling my bag off my shoulder and let it drop to the ground dramatically. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

There’s a shared look between the three of them. I don’t know if they expected resistance. What am I thinking? They probably get off it.

“You need to come with us,” the older one repeats, slower.

“I’m not fucking deaf,” I tell him. “And I’m not coming with you, so move that gangster mobile you’ve got there and I’ll be on my way.”

The goon’s jaw sets. He’s ready to step this up, but the younger one comes forward instead with his hands open. “Look,” he begins, taking off his sunglasses. “We’re here to make sure you get to a meeting with a wedding planner. That’s all. We don’t want trouble.”

So, the younger one seems to have a shred of compassion. Pretty sure he didn’t get that from cozying up to my father.

I sigh and address him as I addressed his friend. “I’m not going. If you try to force me, I will scream.” I point to people in the distance. “There are witnesses,” I say, pointing now to trees. “And cameras.”

I don’t think there are cameras here at all, but they don’t need to know that. Like I said, not the sharpest tools in the shed.

“So, move along and let me get on with my life. Oh,” I add. “And tell my father to go to hell.”

They look to one another, the older one itching to start something, but I know I’ve got the upper hand here. The older one smiles and tilts his head, all of them piling back into the SUV, which takes off far faster than necessary.

I’m shaking when I pick up my bag, the nerves I’ve been holding off turning to piano wire inside me. Even my gut hurts.

I’ve got practice but I’m not hanging around here a second longer than I have to, especially not after nightfall. I run, don’t walk, all the way back to the King residence.

*

I’m upset by my father’s attitude, at his presumption I’d just go along with his stupid fucking plans. Who does he think is?

For a split second I try to put myself in his shoes, understand his position, but I can’t.

Because you’re not a monster, my head tells me.

Nolan hasn’t come home yet.

I’m on autopilot, sitting on the sofa in his room downing Reese’s Pieces like they’re Tic-Tacs, watching Glow (again), wishing I looked that good in spandex.

I don’t think Nolan minds what you’re wearing, even if it’s nothing at all.

This is why I answer my cell automatically when it starts to ring, thinking this is the perfect opportunity for a bit of phone sex.

“Cock,” I state aloud, trying to get a feel for the word before I put into practice.

I answer. “You rang, big boy?”

“Linnea, it’s Coach Hamilton.”

Oh, shit.

“Ah, um, sorry, Coach.”

“You weren’t at practice today,” she states.

I should have expected a follow-up call like this. Coach is infamous her hardline on attendance. “Yes, sorry. I wasn’t feeling so great.”

“Cramps? IBS? Impaled by a fence post? Because you know I couldn’t care less for these kind of excuses, Marsden.”

It’s true. She once rang Carrie, who was in the hospital following a burst appendix, blasting her for not showing.

“You sound fine.”

I could be sitting here on fire, but sure. “Like I said, I’m sorry, Coach.”

“Sorry doesn’t improve your jump shot, does it? The scouts are on the hunt and you need to be on your A-game here, Marsden. I know you’re a senior and those greener pastures a-yonder are calling, but while you are at Crestfall, you are mine. Don’t screw this up, capisce?”

“Understood. I’ll be there tomorrow with bells on.”

“Forget the bells. Just bring your game.”

She hangs up.

I hold the phone away from myself, stare at it in a sort of suspended disbelief.

And they say I’m a hardass.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

NOLAN

I arrive home late afternoon, stepping into my room to find Linnea already there. I thought she had practice.

She’s dressed in a Lakers tee and blue leggings, making that kind of casual attire somehow look incredible.

Instead, for some stupid reason, I say, “Not what I was expecting.”

“What? You expected to find me in my birthday suit with