Match Penalty: Coach’s Daughter Hockey Romance (The Rookie Hawkeyes Series Book 1)

I’ve been in and out of this stadium a hundred times or more since I signed my PTO with the team, but today it feels different. Heavier. Like the walls themselves know what I’m about to do and are trying to hold me back.

Coach Haynes’ office door is slightly ajar. I knock twice and push it open, my heart pounding like I’m heading into sudden death overtime.

“JP,” Coach says, looking up from his laptop. “You’re early. Is everything alright?”

I step inside, closing the door behind me. It feels final, like sealing my fate. “Got a minute?”

“Always,” he says, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “What’s on your mind?”

I sit down, trying to find the right words. How do you tell someone you’re walking away from everything you’ve worked for without sounding like a complete idiot?

“I need to talk to you about a transfer,” I say finally.

Coach’s eyebrows shoot up. “A transfer? What the hell are you talking about?”

“To the farm team,” I clarify, leaning forward, my elbows resting on my knees. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. I think it’s the best move for the team—and for me.”

He stares at me like I’ve just sprouted a second head. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re the starting goalie for one of the top teams in the league, and you want to go to the farm team?”

I nod, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s not about my performance. It’s about focus. I’m a distraction, Coach. You know it, I know it, and the guys know it. This team deserves someone who’s all in.”

“And you’re not?” he challenges.

I hesitate, my throat tightening. “I can’t be. Not right now.”

Coach leans forward, his hands clasped on the desk. “This about Cammy?”

The question catches me off guard, and I glance away. “It’s about a lot of things.”

“Bullshit,” he says, his voice sharp. “You think leaving is going to fix whatever’s going on with her?”

“It’s not just about her,” I say, trying to convince myself even more than him. “It’s about doing what’s right for everyone. For the team, for her, for—”

“For you,” he finishes, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Right. Because running away is the right move.”

“It’s not running away,” I argue, but even I don’t believe it. “It’s stepping back to give everyone space.”

Coach shakes his head, his disappointment clear. “You’re making a mistake, Dumont. Everyone on that team, from the people who run the day-to-day, to the players out on that ice, are all here for the same goal—to win another championship. It would be disrespectful to the people who give it their all for me to attempt to talk you into staying on if you’re not fully invested.”

‘I understand, Coach.’ I say with a nod. ‘I appreciate the opportunity that you’ve given me. And I appreciate you doing this last thing for me.’

He stares back at me for a beat as if thinking I might feel the weight—the call back—to stay with the team, and though my hands are sweating and my blood pressure must be through the roof, I know that I can’t give my all to this team. Not when I already gave it all to Cammy, though she’ll never know it.

‘You have talent. I hate to see you throw it away. But at the end of the day, it’s your choice.’

“Thank you,” I say, standing up. The words feel hollow.

I’m halfway through my second set of bench presses when the gym door slams open. I don’t have to look up to know who it is.

“What the fuck are you doing, Dumont?” Slade’s voice booms across the empty space.

I rack the barbell and sit up, wiping sweat off my face. “Morning, Matthews.”

“Don’t ‘morning’ me,” he snaps, marching over. “Haynes just told me you’re asking for a transfer. Care to explain why you’re suddenly out of your goddamn mind? Please tell me you’re sleepwalking, and this was all just a nightmare you’re having or that you had amnesia and don’t recall any of that conversation so I can tell Coach Haynes you didn’t mean any of that.”

I sigh, grabbing my water bottle. “I’ve already confirmed it with Haynes. It’s done.”

“Like hell it is,” Slade growls. “You think this is how you solve your problems? By bailing?”

“I’m not bailing,” I say, my voice tight. “I’m doing what needs to be done.”

“Who exactly are you doing this for? Cammy? Seven? Because I know for a fact you’re not doing this for yourself, and you’re sure as hell not doing it for the team that needs you.”

“Olsen will get cleared in a couple of weeks. You won’t miss me.’noveldrama

Slade shakes his head, his hands on his hips. ‘This is about something bigger isn’t it?’ he says, shaking a finger at me as I watch him think through it. ‘You came here to prove something and to get Cammy back. And you ended up doing both. So I don’t get it. What happened?’ he asks.

“This isn’t about proving anything. It’s about making sure Cammy doesn’t get dragged down by my shit.”

Slade laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You think she’s better off without you? That walking away is some noble sacrifice? You’re not protecting her, Dumont. You’re just proving you’re too much of a coward to fight for her.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” I snap. “You don’t know what it’s like to be compared to someone who ruined everything they touched. You don’t know what it’s like to see the same patterns in yourself and wonder if you’re going to hurt the people you care about.”

“You’re right,” he says, his tone softer but still firm. “I don’t know what that’s like. But I do know what it’s like to lose someone because you were too stubborn to admit you needed help.”

I stare at him, my chest heaving. “This isn’t the same.”

“Isn’t it?” he counters. “You think Cammy wants you to leave? You think she’ll be happy watching you throw away everything you’ve built because you’re scared?”

“She’ll be better off,” I say, my voice breaking. “She deserves someone who can give her everything. Someone who doesn’t bring trouble wherever they go.”

Slade shakes his head, disappointment etched into every line of his face. “You’re making a mistake, JP. But if you’re determined to blow up your life again, then I can’t stop you. Just don’t expect me to stand by and watch you throw your life away without saying my peace.”

Later that day, Coach Haynes calls me into his office to let me know the transfer request has been submitted. “I still think you’re making the wrong choice,” he says, his tone heavy. “But I’ll respect it.”

“Thank you. Do me a favor, though. Don’t say anything to anyone about this until you have to,” I say, shaking his hand.

I head to the locker room after, sitting in front of my stall for what feels like hours. The room is empty, the usual noise and banter replaced by silence. I stare at the Hawkeyes logo on my gear bag, the memories of this season playing in my mind like a highlight reel. At least I got to play here—train under Coach Wrenley—though it wasn’t the experience I expected.

As I leave the facility, it hits me—after tomorrow’s home game and the auction the day after, I’ll be stepping into the Hawkeyes stadium as a player for the last time.

But not until I give Cammy one last thing.