The Penalty Box

by Teagan Kade

  “You’ve come ill-prepared if this is a marriage proposal.”

  “I’m on my knees, aren’t I?”

  “Plural, and where’s the ring?”

  He pulls off his family ring and holds it out to me. “Not exactly your style, but call it an IOU.”

  I take the ring and flip it over in my fingers. “Looks like an octopus.”

  “It’s an elephant.”

  “Elephant, octopus—same, same.”

  I clasp her hands together, make sure I have her full attention. “So, what do you say? Will you marry me, Linnea Marsden?”

  This time I can see her processing the question, planning out a future and testing to see if it fits. “You’re being totally sincere here? A random King brother isn’t about to burst in and proclaim this the prank of the century?”

  I nod. “I’m serious. There will only ever be one One for me, and it’s you—ignoring the terrible grammar there. And yes, I know that sounds insane, but from the first time we met, I felt it, that pull to you, the rollercoaster sitting at the top of the hill before the dive—that’s the feeling I get every time I look into your eyes. Did I expect to fall for you like this? Hell, no. I didn’t plan for it, but holy shit am I happy I did.”

  She relaxes and starts nodding herself. “And if I say yes?”

  “I’ll make you happiest woman in the world.”

  “You are on your knees, so that’s a good start.”

  Her smile is infectious. I let my hands come to her knees and slowly spread her legs apart. “Perhaps I could sweeten the deal?”

  She closes them, running a hand through my hair. She places the ring back on my finger. “Tempting, on both accounts, but I have to think about it. You have my word.”

  But not the word I wanted.

  I try to drive the disappointment away, remind myself this isn’t a ‘no.’ This was an opportunity, a way to cut through months of dating and waiting to get what I really want.

  “You’re sweet, you know,” she tells me, eyes suddenly sadder than usual.

  “You’ll think about it?”

  “I already promised, didn’t I?”

  I was hoping for a firmer answer, but I nod all the same. I climb onto the sofa beside her and reach for the bowl.

  We watch TV together for a while, order in pizza so we don’t have to deal with the rabble downstairs.

  When she’s asleep, I carry her to bed and sit on the edge watching the soft movement of her chest. Her lips are barely parted, nostrils flaring with each intake of breath.

  “You will be my wife,” I whisper. “So help me God.” I realize I sound like a possessive creep in the process, but I can’t help it. Linnea has become my everything, my forever. I won’t let Rex Marsden take that away. I won’t let anyone.

  What started as a bit of fun has evolved into so much more. Even my brothers are on board, though the lot of them have become hopeless romantics, had the testosterone scrubbed clean out of their systems.

  Mostly.

  I lie beside Linnea on the bed and stare upwards. I close my eyes but sleep is not forthcoming. I’m worrying about her, wondering whether she’ll accept my proposal, wondering what I should, or could, do to sway her over.

  But there’s only one thing I can do.

  Wait.

  And it’s killing me already.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  LINNEA

  The topic of the proposal doesn’t come up again in the following days. Nolan’s leaving me space to think, and thinking I am. We go out, make out, and I feel like a teenager all over again.

  It’s been nice, but still the problems with my father cast a shadow over everything. I know Nolan will do whatever it takes to protect me, but I know what my father is capable of. If something were to happen to Nolan, I’d never forgive myself.

  “Linnea Marsden?”

  I’m at the entrance to the arena, about to head in for practice when a woman approaches me. She’s dressed to the nines, boxed up and shipped directly from New York by the look of it. I can’t tell if it’s a dress she’s wearing or something she pinched from the Guggenheim.

  I stop walking. “Yes?” I reply cautiously.

  She extends her hand. “I’m Maria Saens, your wedding planner.”

  At first, I think this is Nolan’s doing, both admiring and loathing his persistence, but then the more likely answer becomes clear. “My father sent you, didn’t he?”

  I see slight hesitation register on those medically smoothed features of hers. “He did.”

  I look to the sky and draw in a deep breath, returning to Maria. “Not interested, thanks.”

  I keep walking.

  She trails at a distance. “Please, Linnea. I’ve got the most gorgeous—”

  But I’m through the doors before she can get out the rest. I stop by the administration desk at the front of the gym, leaning over and speaking in a low voice. “I think there’s a crazy woman outside. She’s not a student or a teacher. Should we call campus security?”

  The administrator looks through the double doors and spots her immediately, lifting up the phone receiver. “Let me give them a call.”

  It’s evil. I’m sure this Maria is a perfectly fine human being, but the opportunity to get one over my father is too good to pass up.

  Carrie sees me smiling as I come onto the court. “You’re looking chipper today. Long night with Sir Supercock?”

  I pick up a basketball from the rack and start to dribble in between my legs. “You make it sound like I’m dating his father.”

  “Have you seen Stone King? Guy is a total silver fox.”

  I laugh. “I’m sure there are plenty of sugar daddies around Crestfall if that’s what you’re into.”

  She leans against the rack. “At the moment I’d be into anything with two legs and half a brain willing to run one through me.”

  “Ah, Carrie. Always such a way with words. You’ll find your Mr. Right.”

  She takes a ball and starts for the key, shouting. “Not in this shithole I won’t.”

  Practice goes better than expected. My game is back on track and I’m certain I can deliver. The idea of playing in the WNBA, of finally realizing my dream, is within grasp. But the funny thing? Nolan has somehow inserted himself into the fantasy. I picture myself on court and he’s there on the sidelines cheering me on. He’s in the background when I’m being interviewed, inducted into the Hall of Fame, signing jerseys… He’s always there. I don’t know what to read into it only that I want him in my life.

  On Nolan’s orders, Carrie walks home with me.

  I fish for the keys Nolan gave me at the door.

  “You mind if I hang for a bit? Carrie asks. “My roommates on a mid-afternoon sex-a-thon.”

  I find my keys and unlock the door, pushing it open. “If you’re hoping to find a random King brother buck naked, you’re going to be disappointed. They’re all out.”

  I walk in. “Hello?” I call, but no one’s here, not even the girls—a rarity.

  “You hungry?” I ask Carrie.

  She whistles behind me, looking around in wonder. “Damn. So this is how the other half live.”

  “Just don’t go in the bedrooms,” I warn. “You hungry?”

  I toss my bag and keys onto the kitchen counter and head straight for the fridge.

  “I could eat,” Carrie replies.

  I’ve got an armful of sandwich ingredients when my cell starts to ring. I fumble everything onto the counter and take it out, seeing the number is listed private. I answer. “Linnea here.”

  Carrie mouths ‘Bathroom’, pointing down the hall. I nod and point left, watch her disappear around the corner.

  “That was quite the stunt you pulled this morning.”

  I sigh and lean against the counter. I shouldn’t have answered. I should get a new number. “All in good fun, father.”

  “She’s one of the best wedding planners in the country, Linnea. You have no idea how hard it was to get her out her
e.”

  “Funny that, you have no idea how easy it was to get her off campus,” I fire back.

  “Mmm,” he mumbles. “I’m happy to find a different planner if she wasn’t…your style.”

  I reach up to hold my elbow. “And what, do tell, is my style?”

  “Let’s not do this shall we, Linnea, this dance. We both know this is for the best. I care about you, I do.”

  I try not to let the irritation filter into my voice. “Don’t even go there. You have no right.”

  He abandons that and replies with something far more familiar. “You will marry Harry, Linnea.”

  The rhyming is mildly amusing, I can’t take his arrogance a second longer. “I’m marrying Nolan. You’re too late.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffs.

  “Don’t call me, don’t try to fucking kidnap me again, and definitely don’t try to stop this, because it’s happening. Goodbye,” I tell him, hanging up.

  “Are you really? Getting married?”

  I spin to see Carrie entering the room. I’d forgotten all about her, placing the cell down and tossing my ponytail over my shoulder.

  Am I really going to marry Nolan? It’s the question of the hour. I can think of all the reasons it’s a bad idea. We haven’t been together long. We’re young. We’re different in many ways, but I ignore them all, ignore everything telling me to say no and instead tell Carrie, “Yes, we are.”

  She looks shocked. “Wow, you sure?”

  I nod and realize I am. Fuck it. I am. “Yeah,” I reply. “It makes sense.”

  Carrie raises an eyebrow. “It does?”

  I’m thankful for her honesty at least. I laugh. “No. It makes no sense at all, but that doesn’t mean it’s not right, and it feels right, Carrie. It feels like the easiest decision of my life.”

  “Does he know?”

  “What?”

  “You’re getting married.”

  Good point. “Not yet.”

  She moves past me to the kitchen counter, starts assembling a sandwich as if the news is already forgotten. “What are you waiting for then? Swipe up that cell and let him know.”

  “I think I should do it person.”

  “He’s back at the Academy?”

  I nod.

  “Can I at least finish my sandwich?”

  “No, you stay here,” I tell her. “I’ll be fine.”

  “But he said…”

  “I know what he said, but seriously. No one’s going to stop me getting me to him.”

  Carrie stops what she’s doing. “You are absolutely sure?”

  “About going alone?”

  “About marrying him, dumbass.”

  “I am,” I reply.

  “Okay,” smiles Carrie.

  “Okay.”

  There’s a second more before I swipe up my keys and head out the door, calling, “Lock the door on the way out. Oh, and the chocolate stash is in the vegetable drawer.”

  “Thanking you!” shouts Carrie back.

  I start to run, excited about the idea of telling Nolan the good news. I let it build, this feeling of elation, but it doesn’t dissipate. It grows the whole way there, blooming and filling out into a future I can almost taste, touch.

  It’s right.

  I know it.

  So, so very right it hurts.

  *

  I enter the ice hockey arena. There are people everywhere, the rink filled with the sound of sticks slapping against the ice and someone dialing out insults at the top of their lungs.

  I pick the nearest player, a bulky guy trying to chat up the blonde at the front desk that I only vaguely remember.

  He looks irritated when I approach. “Nolan King?” I ask.

  He points right. “Gym. Right down the end, but don’t let Coach catch you.”

  I maneuver my way down there with as much stealth as I can muster, a few bemused looks from players passing me by.

  I enter the gym.

  It’s an impressive set-up they’ve got here at The Turtle, the best of the best equipment. You’d be lucky not to get tetanus using the stuff over at the basketball arena.

  Nolan is doing pull-ups at the back. He doesn’t see me enter.

  I creep up slowly and snake my arms around him.

  He lowers himself slowly. “If that’s you, Phoenix, you’re going for a swim when I get home.”

  I let my hands fall lower, squeeze the bulge in his sweats. “I didn’t take your brothers for the affectionate type.”

  Nolan drops and spins around to face me, his own hands filled with my ass. “I must say, it’s a far nicer surprise to find you here than one of those idiots.”

  He looks over my shoulder to the other one or two guys lifting weights up front. “Can you give us five?” he shouts.

  They reply with some smartass comment about Nolan benching me, then leave through the front door.

  Nolan waits until we’re alone before speaking. “Why the visit? You didn’t come here alone, did you?”

  He sees the look on my face.

  “Shit. Baby, I told you—”

  I cut him off. “I’ve thought about your question.”

  I press a hand into the center of his chest, the thud-thud-thud of his heart reassuring.

  Nolan backs up, sits himself on the end of the nearby bench and takes my hands, drawing me to him so I’m standing between his legs. “Thought I should sit down for this.”

  I’m doing my best not to let my excitement show, but I know my composure is slipping. I can’t help it. I’m just that happy.

  “So?” he presses. “What’s your answer?”

  “It starts with ‘Y’ and ends in ‘S’.”

  “What do yacks have to do with this?”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m saying, you idiot, let’s get married. Let’s do this thing and grow old together.”

  He smiles wide and proud, a fresh sparkle in his eye that wasn’t there a few seconds ago. “You’ll still want me when I’m old and gray, when my balls are somewhere around my feet?”

  I lower myself so I’m sitting right on the edge of the bench, the two of us twined together. “Droopy balls and all, but until then…” I kiss him and it’s sweet and perfect and nothing sexual, but it’s all the confirmation I need that this is the right decision.

  Nolan’s practically glowing when he breaks apart. He presses his tongue into his cheek to stave off another smile. “We should elope tonight, do a Titus.”

  “Married by the King in Vegas? No, I want a real wedding. After all, I only plan on doing this once.”

  He reaches for my hair. “So do I.”

  “How about a compromise?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “One week, to put it all together. I don’t want to wait and I don’t think you do either. We’ve got resources between us. We could do it.”

  Nolan seems receptive to the idea. “That we do. You’re sure about this?”

  I twist my lips together and let my eyebrows jump. “Sure as I’ve ever been about anything. As MJ himself said, ‘Some people want it to happen, some wish it would happen, others make it happen.’ So, I’m telling you, soon to be husband of mine, let’s do this. Let’s make it happen.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  NOLAN

  We meet with Alissa at the chocolate café on Main Street the following morning.

  It was my idea to bring her on board. To be honest, I haven’t had much to do with her until now, thinking her status in the King family was purely ornamental, or was it one of my brothers who said that? I can’t recall, but contrary to her airy demeanor, she’s far more focused and articulate than I gave her credit for.

  My father… Well, he wasn’t completely on board with the idea at first, but he came around when I explained the situation, the danger Linnea was in. After Phoenix, Ti, and Pey, I don’t think he had much choice, probably happy to see the last of his sons married off.

  A waitress arrives with our drinks, placing th
em on the table.

  “Are you sure you don’t want anything?” I ask Alissa.

  She smiles, shoulders so square and straight she could double as a dart board. “I’m perfectly fine. Shall we get down to business?”

  I lean back. “You really have been hanging around my father too long.”

  “A wedding is a party, not a performance,” Alissa says. “And parties I can do. What did you guys have in mind?”

  “I’m more than happy to let you two suss out the details,” I tell them.

  Linnea squeezes my hand. “Trying to escape already?”

  “The only thing I know about planning a wedding is to call in help.”

  Alissa takes out a notebook and clicks her pen. “I suppose you’re wondering why I married your father?”

  This question comes out of nowhere. I’m unprepared for it. “Ah, no. Not at all.”

  Cleary she wants to get it off her chest. “My mother once told me, ‘Never discount the idea of marriage. Yes, someone might tell you that marriage is just a piece of paper, but so is money, and what’s more affirming than cold, hard cash?’”

  “So you married my father for his money?”

  Linnea kicks me under the table.

  “In a sense,” she says. “But he’s come to mean a lot to me, as have you all. I hope you can see that.”

  I look to Linnea. “I just want to make this one happy. That’s it. If she wants pink flamingos walking the dancefloor and a twenty-one-gun salute when she says ‘I do’, I’m all for it. Whatever it takes.”

  “No, and no,” replies Linnea. “I’m far more practical than that.”

  I raise my mug of sweet, steaming hot chocolate. “A quiet, intimate ceremony sounds fine to me.”

  *

  “What’s got you looking so happy, King?”

  Denning, one of the team’s left wings, tries to whip me with his towel. I dodge right and smile. “You’re faster with a stick in your hand, Denning, but if you must know, I’m in love.”

  That gets a loud jeer from the three teammates left in the locker room. The rest of the team’s already on their way to the Steam Room looking to spend big tonight. I’m planning on spending my time with Linnea, perhaps wedding planning with our clothes off this time.