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Ward rolls to his back. “Mila! My shoulder…”
“Move your arm, let me see,” I say.
Ward moves his arms, groaning in pain.
He’s fine. Nothing is torn. Nothing is broken. It’ll be sore for a few days.
Embarrassment floods my body even though I’m not the one involved here.
I look over my left shoulder and the last person I want to see is staring at me.
Jax is near the door, arms folded, staring right at me.
Ward grabs for my leg. “Ah, Mila, help me… this really fucking hurts…”
My chin quivers for a second.
I can’t stop staring at Jax.
7
JAX
Three minutes left in the second period and I get hit with a bullshit hooking call, so I have to park my ass in the sin bin for two minutes.
We’re down by one goal.
For some reason this game feels way too relaxed. Nobody has any fucking pep in their game.
Too many of us falling in love and being swooned by the world of committed pussy.
I reach for a water bottle, then just sit there, watching the game.
Mac fucks up an easy pass. Villi misses a big hit behind the net.
Knox makes a wild save that could have just been a simple glove save.
The clock ticks down.
It’s the longest two minutes of my life but finally, I’m back on the ice.
And I’m out for blood.
There’s less than a minute left in the period and I’ll be damned if we’re going into the locker room without a tied game.
I throw my shoulder into a winger.
Now I’m a target for sure.
The defenders are coming for me.
I have the puck and pass back to Mac.
“Up! Up! Up!” I shout to Gabriel.
Gabriel skates right wing and I’m center while Mac takes left.
The defenders are still looking for me.
