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FIFTY

JACK

MARCH

Mara looked up from her e-reader. She sat at the kitchen counter when I walked in at home. The house was quiet, as the kids would have been long off to bed.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I tried, and she cocked her head to the side, not looking amused. “Didn’t think you’d be up this late.”

Mara pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “What did you do.”

It was a statement, not a question. I licked my bottom lip, trying to buy some time.

Mara did not look amused. “A fight over what?”

“Look, you don’t want to hear it, but Mikey said some pretty nasty shit about you?—”

Mara pulled up her phone, opened a social media app, and pressed play on a video. The sound that came out was the clip of Mikey saying she thought she was so pretty with all that ginger hair, followed by me saying the thing about him being ginger too. She scrunched her brow and puffed out her lips.

“Sounds real nasty,” she pouted. “Tell me, is this how you fight on the ice too? Over very serious accusations like these?”

I put my head in my hands. I was an absolute fool to think she’d not see completely through our ruse. She went on.

“You know what else is interesting? Jessie texted me to see if we had beef. And I told her, no, we do not.” She rolled her lips between her teeth. “Care to explain?”

I swallowed and looked at the floor.

Mara strode toward me slowly. “Is this all some ploy for a big punishment, Jack?”

Oh my god. What a perfect coverup. “Yes. Yes, it is. I was very bad, ma’am.”

Mara lifted my chin with her finger, forcing me to look at her. “I think you’re lying. But the good news is I’ve been saving a very special punishment for an occasion such as this. What time is your practice tomorrow?”

“10, ma’am. Then we fly to Calgary.”

She nodded. “Lucky for you, I can be there. Can’t wait to see you on the ice.”

Fuck. How was that the punishment?

She gave me a sweet peck on the lips and a pat on the head and said, “I’m off to bed.”

I had never been more terrified in my life. Not even when I stabbed Bryce. This did not bode well for me.

But I’d done it to myself.

The next morning, Mara came back from dropping the kids off at school and daycare with a glowing smile. “Ready for your big trip, Jackie?”

“Y-yes,” I said, bending to give her the kiss she requested.

“Hey, have you gone to the bathroom yet today?”

My eyes rounded. “Like . . . poop bathroom?”

“Yep!” she sang.

“Um, yes.”

“Perfect,” she said. “Follow me.”

Mara was even on her cane that day, and she still had pep in her step. She led me into our bathroom. “Sit and wait for me. I’ll be right back.”

It was her enthusiasm that scared me. She popped back around the corner with a box in her hand, as well as a large bulb thing. She filled the bottom part of the bulb with warm water. “Alright, Jackie. Since you can’t seem to tell me the truth lately, you’re going to take your punishment.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“Would you like to do the enema, or do you want me to do it for you?”

“Wait, that goes . . . up my . . .”

“Yes. Give me a color, Jack.”

I drew a shallow breath and I felt light-headed. “I’m about to go to practice, though.”

“Yes, I know. I’m coming with you. Give me a color.”

“Hang on. What happens after the enema?”

Mara extracted a plug from the box, not heinously big, but also not small. “You’ll wear this.”

“Just until I go to practice, right? Like an hour?” I asked.

“No, silly. You’re going to wear it during practice. And the cool thing about this is that it vibrates and uses a cool app on my phone to control it.”

Cold sweat broke out all over my body. “W-what? When can I take it out, ma’am?”

“Let’s see, you get to Calgary this afternoon, right?”

I nodded and gulped.

“Give me a color, Jack.”

I did the crime. I had to do the time. But I had a feeling the next several hours were going to be torture. Hopefully sweet torture, though figuring out how to relieve myself with my teammates around might pose a bit of a problem.

“Green.”