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

The whistle blows, echoing in the practice rink as I bend over, hands on my knees, catching my breath. The drills are grueling, or maybe it’s just me weighed down by everything I’ve carried here. This place feels foreign—too clean, too quiet, too sterile. Even the ice doesn’t feel right under my skates.

Focus, Dumont. You can’t screw this up.

I straighten, nodding at the assistant coach when he calls for the next rotation. I push off, forcing my legs to move faster, harder, trying to drown out the noise in my head. The puck ricochets off my pad, and the defense clears it. But my timing is off—half a second slower than it should be.

Every save feels like a battle. Every missed block feels like confirmation that something is off—that I don’t belong here. But I have no other choice. The other teams have already filled the spots. Besides, there’s only one place that feels like home.

The Hawkeyes, the city, the girl. The only problem is… they’re all behind me now. I left it all last night, but I should be grateful that at least I get to play, because it’s the only thing I have left.

After an hour of drills, the coach finally blows the whistle for a water break. I skate to the bench, pulling my mask off and dragging my sleeve across my face. The team’s chatter fades into the background as I grab my bottle.

The sharp sound of something skidding across the ice draws my attention.

A puck.

It stops near my skate. I frown, leaning down to pick it up. There’s writing on it in pink marker.

Dinner?

What the hell?

I glance around the rink, but the players are focused on their break, and the coaching staff are huddled together near the boards.

Then, another puck flies over the plexiglass, landing right in front of me with a soft thud.

I bend down, my breath catching when I see what’s taped to it: a crumpled piece of paper. My fingers are shaking as I peel it off and unfold it.

I love you, too.

I glance at the fortune cookie paper taped to it.

An old flame may reignite.

My heart stops.

I look up, and there she is.

Cammy.

She’s sitting in the bleachers, bundled in a hoodie with my Hawkeyes jersey stretched on top, her smile bright enough to melt the ice beneath my skates.

I skate toward the plexiglass like a man possessed—because fuck, I am. She waves, her eyes sparkling with something I haven’t seen since the night she smiled at me in Oakley’s before the fight.

“Where did you get the fortune?” I call out, my voice echoing in the rink.

She leans forward, resting her elbows on the railing. “I lied that night about what it said. I thought you might be interested in what my fortune really was.”

I stare at the crumpled slip in my hand, the weight of her words confirming what I had already suspected. “An old flame may reignite.” I read aloud, my voice hoarse.

Cammy nods, her smile softening. “You were right. That fortune was very wise… even though I didn’t tell you what it said.”noveldrama

The world narrows to just her and me as I skate closer to the boards.

‘Why didn’t you tell me the truth?’ I ask.

She purses her lips and stares down at the paper in my hands. ‘Because I was scared that it would come true.’

“And yet… you came all the way here—wearing my jersey,” I say, my voice quieter now, tinged with disbelief. ‘You don’t seem too scared now.’

She gets up from her seat and starts walking down the few steps to bring her to the front of the rink.

“I had to come. You weren’t answering your phone,” she says, her smile faltering for a moment. “And then Angelica told me everything.”

My heart sinks. Angelica. Of course she did.

“She told you about the accident?”

“She told me everything,” Cammy says firmly. “About the accident. About the DUI. About why you’ve been running from everyone and everything ever since.”

I swallow hard, the words caught in my throat.

Cammy’s gaze softens. “You’ve been carrying that for so long, JP. But you didn’t have to. Not alone. I would have kept the secret, but at least now, I understand why you couldn’t tell me.”

I shake my head, my voice rough. “You don’t understand, Cammy. Trouble follows me. It always has. I couldn’t drag you down with me.”

She moves closer to the boards until we’re only separated by the plexiglass. Her hands press against it, her fingers splayed wide.

“Do I look dragged down to you?” she asks, her voice steady.

I blink at her, my throat too tight to speak.

“You’re not your father, JP. You’re not even close. And you’re not alone. Not unless you choose to be.”

I press my hands against the glass, mirroring hers. “I got traded, Cammy. I don’t even have a team to go back to.”

Her lips twitch into a smile. “Actually… this isn’t your new team. Coach Haynes never turned in the transfer. You’re just here until you come to your senses and come back with me to Seattle. Slade called in a favor with the coach to keep it from you. Your contract paperwork with the Hawkeyes is sitting in the legal department’s office waiting for you to come home and sign it.”

I shake my head, the weight of her words slowly lifting. “Slade’s a pain in my ass.”

“And a genius,” she says with a grin. “But Penelope’s not thrilled about the whole situation. I probably owe her a month of chai lattes and sticky buns.”

The first laugh in days escapes me. “So, you really love me,” I say, as I move to the section without plexiglass. She follows me, step for step, until there’s nothing between us but the boards. I pick her up and pull her over, setting her feet gently on the ice with me.

I keep my hands on her hips as she stares up at me.

“I think I always did,’ she says.

The next words catch in my throat. “So… what do we do next?”

Cammy’s gaze softens, her voice steady. “Well, Thanksgiving is in a couple of days so there’s no practice with the team. My grandparents would love to meet you, and honestly,’ she says, looking down at the ice, timidly pinning a strand back behind her ear, ‘I know it’s a lot to ask you to meet my family, but would you want to come home with me?”

My chest tightens at the thought. “Go home with you? To Minnesota? With Seven and your mom and—”

“And my grandparents,” she finishes. “I could really use you. It’s going to be a lot, I know. But having you there will make it easier for me.”

I nod slowly, the knot in my chest easing as I meet her gaze. “Your dad’s going to kill me, but I’ll go anywhere with you Cammy.”

I pull her closer, feeling her body against mine once again.

For the first time in weeks, the world feels like it’s shifting back into place.

‘I guess I don’t have an apartment when I get back, since I already gave mine up,’ I say, the realization dawning on me.

‘I know a girl with a king size bed three floors up,’ she gleams.

‘We’re doing this then. You’re mine…finally?’

Her fingers wrap into my practice jersey, pulling me close, her lips full and perfect, making my mouth water. ‘I’ve been yours since you threw me that first puck. And I will be yours until the last,’ she says, and then pushes up on her toes to seal her lips with mine.

‘We need to find a hotel room right now,’ I tell her against her lips.

She giggles. ‘Oh really? And why would that be?’

‘Because… Je vais te lécher des orteils jusqu’aux seins.’

A voice comes from Cammy’s back pocket, translating what I said.

‘I’m going to lick you from your toes to your tits,’ the voice translates.

Cammy’s jaw falls open as we both stare at each other wide eyed. Other players skate by chuckling as the translation echoes through the rink.

‘What the fuck was that?’ I ask.

Cammy snickers as she pulls out her phone from her back pocket. ‘I believe they call that technology. Now you can’t hide your true feelings from me, Dumont. Karma’s a bitch.’

I laugh. Of course, she won’t let me get away with anything. And that’s why she’s the one, and always has been.

‘Je t’aime, mon petit oiseau.’

‘I love you, my little bird,’ the translator app says, as I lean down and kiss her again.