Penalty: A New Adult Sports Romance (Excerpt Only)

Chapter 2 - ABRAHAM

I stare at Madison's rapidly retreating form, watching her slight frame navigate the crowded hallway as a strange peace fills me.

Maddy's here; I can't believe it.

Madison Mills, if I remember correctly.

Either way, it's her—the shy, slippery girl is definitely the ethereal creature who lived a few doors down from me a lifetime ago.

She was pretty much the only light back then, back before things got even darker.

In those days, I'd forget my worries for a moment and watch her and her mother tend to their gardens, wishing I could join them but fearing ridicule and laughter, so I never dared to.

My dad would have, no doubt, had a few choice words about my desire to help out two women in a garden, and 'sissy' would be the least of them.

He wouldn't understand I just needed to bask in their warmth, to be around the joyous younger girl. He wouldn't get that she made me feel something I'd never felt.

He wouldn't approve of me reaching out and doing anything for them at all—girls were supposed to do things for you. Everything for you.

The ladies were obviously close, and despite their differing physical features—the oval face and extra long hair about all they had in common—they were very clearly mother and daughter.

They seemed so happy together.

I never saw Maddy's father around, and I always thought about how lucky she was in that sense.

I start walking to my next class, still preoccupied with memories, barely aware of fellow students trying to say hi or sending me a smile as my mind sticks on young Maddy and the old days.

I used to watch her at every opportunity—peeping through window blinds and from house corners—trying hard not to let her catch me staring.

For the most part, it seemed she had no clue I was visually stalking her every move—watching her learned hand prune, water, fertilize, and sometimes, display a matured vegetable proudly to her mother.

Maddy was the loveliest creature I had ever seen—her serenity a sort of drug. I became addicted to the calmness of her spirit, the quiet beauty of her face.

I knew she was around my age—several years away from being a woman—and yet every fiber of my being said she was to be my woman; she was meant for me.

But there was no way I could bring her into my life as it was.

I held back from introducing myself many times, knowing the moment we took that step, she'd be drawn into my world—even if just a little bit—and some of my darkness would eat her light. Perhaps swallow her whole.

She didn't deserve that.

I'd always imagined she went on to live a happy life, full of laughter and smiles and sunny skies, but it seems some darkness reached her after all.

I wonder what happened?

She is no longer joyous; she no longer seems at peace.

Whatever went down, I wish I'd been there for her.

I need to know what took place in the eight years since we crossed paths, why she looks so sad now. Why she seems so guarded and closed off.

I have no doubt I'll find out soon.

Other than the gloom about her, the years have been good to her.

She is still beautiful, despite how much she obviously tries to hide it.