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We’d attempted to capitalize on his observation for the first two periods, but someone or something always got in our way. Finally he managed. The moment Rafe made his second interception and passed the puck to me was the moment Littleton recognized their own weakness. They closed in around me, blocking me off from my wings and defenders.
I pushed through the mess of players with little headway. The puck got lost between their feet, and I was stuck.
The trash talk started, but I ignored most of it, prodding uselessly between blades for the damn puck. I wondered why the ref hadn’t called it, but the whole thing had probably taken less than three seconds.
My head ached, reminding me that I hadn't eaten for the day. Shit. The clock read only a few minutes left in the game, and I needed to focus to get through to the end.
I finally got my stick to the puck properly and passed it across to my left wing who took off with it. Half of Littleton darted after him, but two players stayed on me. I swerved, testing as much as I could to get around them but couldn’t make enough room to build up speed.
“Don’t have enough room to breathe, Crush?” one sneered.
I ignored him, and tried the other side, but my moment of pause had dropped my energy off and I struggled to regain my momentum. I glanced over at Rafe for help, but his attention was focused on Gage where he protected our goal. Which was exactly where his attention should be. I doubled my efforts, dredging energy as I dug deep, but the Littleton’s defender grabbed mine with his next words.
“Or you prefer sucking in a little tailpipe, huh? Get that exhaust into you.” An ugly mug sneered at me through the opposing defender’s helmet.
I opened my mouth to reply but his words conjured the carbon monoxide cloud that had swamped my morning in a toxic haze. My head throbbed and the two Littleton players sparkled at the edges, like fucking vampires. Weren’t they meant to sparkle these days?
I’d dropped halfway to the ice before my eyes registered that I was falling.
CHAPTER FOUR
The crowd became a blur that passed me in slow motion. Ice beneath my cheek transformed into the locker room in too short a time for my fogged mind to follow. I had a memory of Willow’s face leaning over me before she was thrown away, a sense of movement and time displaced as I traveled from place to place, and not under my own steam.
My gear was lifted off my shoulders, my feet freed from the skates. Someone jammed a packet of energy gel in my face. Gage’s grey-blue eyes, his face creased with concern, filled my vision before Coach shoved him unceremoniously aside.
I snorted into my gel pack.
“Give him room,” Coach growled. “Why the hell didn’t you say you hadn’t eaten this morning? Do you have a fucking death wish, Lancaster?”
I tried to answer, but he stuck the gel pack back into my mouth the moment I pulled it out. Water replaced it, paired with instructions to sip slowly by the team doc as he checked me over.
“I honestly forgot,” I said when he allowed me to speak, raising my arms over my head as the doc prompted. “Got a bit busy this morning. Wait. How do you know?”
Coach rolled his eyes and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
I peered around the crowd that formed a semi circle between me and the rest of the world, but the doorway was empty. Disappointment rose in me before common sense dampened it back down. Willow wouldn’t be allowed in the change rooms, no woman was. It might be a sexist as fuck system, but it did allow for our concentration on the game. Right now, the rules could go to hell on a rebound for all I gave a fuck. I wanted her next to me. Straining up, I craned further past Coach, but there was nothing to see.
Gage slapped a hand on my chest, pushing me back and earned himself a reprimand from the doc.
“Your fucking pussy can wait,” he snapped, apparently content with verbal abuse when he was denied his usual physical outlet.
The room filled with catcalls and whistles.
I ignored the lot of them.
A hand tapped my cheek none too gently and my eyes sprang open.“Don’t you fucking pass out on me again, Crush. I nearly had a heart attack when you went down on the ice and Littleton decided to put on a show. Pissants.”
Littleton. Those fuckers.
My attention returned to Coach with clarity.
He nodded as the doc gave me a final pat on the head like a good dog. “Minor case of exhaustion, likely brought on by ignoring his nutrition. Not enough to worry about unless there are further symptoms. Eat. Rest. Train in two days. Tomorrow off.” Doc directed his final comment at Coach as he packed his things and left us alone.
“Yeah, sure.” Coach waved him off, then returned to glare at me. “Get yourself healthy and you train tomorrow.”
“It was Littleton.” I ignored both him and the doc. “Their defender started talking shit, but he asked me if I liked sucking on exhaust. He wouldn’t say that if he hadn’t—”
“Known what the fuck had been done to you.” Gage rose to his full height, his bulk impressive from my angle, even though the man was my best friend. More a brother than friend, really.
