The crowd still clamoured to their feet even though it wasn’t their team that had scored. Jett barely had a chance to grasp that he had just pulled off theKillingersuccessfully before his teammates were piling onto him.
He got pushed to the bench, hardly able to breathe through all the sweaty hockey players as every Sunburst player fist bumped and smacked him on the back.
Jett caught Harrison’s gaze through all the chaos and felt his stomach suddenly fall to his feet in a great swooping motion. His boyfriend was standing behind the bench in that sexy suit of his, arms crossed and eyes burning with hunger. He looked like he wanted to eat Jettalive.
Maybe it was true.
Melvin was babbling into his mic, gushing about the goal as he made the connection to Harrison’s early hockey years. Fuck Park’s goal, Jett somehow outdid him without even meaning to.
“That’s what I’m talking about, baby!” Bracken pushed Jett to the bench and grabbed him by the neck, digging his knuckles into the side of his head. “That was fucking amazing, Jetty!”
Cote sat on his other side, grinning boyishly. “That was so cool, Jett. Fucking stellar.”
“Thanks,” said Jett. He grabbed his bottle and squeezed water on his head to cool off. He couldn’t help but glance at Park on the other bench and saw him watching something on a tablet. His goal, or Jett’s. Judging by his frown, it was Jett he was watching.
Jett couldn’t help but feel smug. Every frown he earned felt like a win after how badly Park had humiliated them last time they played.
He thought his goal would break the Conclaves, but as Jett prepared for his next shift, he realized it may have had the opposite effect. The guys looked super fired up and were still getting the puck to their net, taking plenty of shots on Powers.
Park also played like he had a fire lit under his ass, which earned him another goal on a rebound scuffle, much to all of their frustration.
The clock ticked down until only three minutes were left, and the Sunbursts were still ahead by one point. They had been playing a heavily defensive game since Park’s last goal, and everyone was exhausted and drenched with sweat.
Jett dropped into position for the face-off in the Sunburst zone after Cote got caught on an icing call. Across from him, Park slid into place with practiced ease, his expression annoyingly casual. A sly grin tugged at his lips, and his dark eyes glittered with mischief under the arena lights.
“Nice fucking goal, Fraser,” said Park. “Think Killinger will teach me too, if I ask nicely?”
“Shut up, Park,” the ref snapped, saving Jett from having to tell him off himself.
The puck dropped, and Park won it. Jett bolted for him, expecting the pink-haired man to start driving it to the net, but Park smirked and flicked it to Holt as the Ottawa captain raised his stick for a slap shot.
Powers couldn’t have seen the shot coming in a million years. There were too many bodies in front of him, most wearing Sunburst jerseys.
The puck hit the back of the net, and the horn blasted. The clock had barely been counting down for ten seconds.
Jett was so shocked he didn’t register what happened until he saw the Conclaves tackling their captain and hollering at the top of their lungs. The crowd wentwild, but Jett could still hear Powers and Wolf cursing over the noise.
Park came back from his bench celebration and stuck his tongue out at Jett like a child, which prompted Bracken into lunging for the cocky forward, only to be stopped by Jett and Wolf.
“You should let him go,” Park sang across the ten feet of ice between them. “I promise I’ll go easy on him. He’s old, after all.”
“Fuck you!” Wolf and Jett shouted together.
Whistles started blowing for them to get in line for the next puck drop, but Bracken wasseethingwith anger and red-faced.
Jett held his breath as Holt and Bracken bent for the puck at center ice.
“You know what they say about bright colours in the animal kingdom?” Bracken spat at the other captain. “It’s a warning to other creatures that they’re fucking poisonous. Ring any bells?”
The puck dropped—and so did the gloves. In a blur of motion, both captains locked onto each other, fists flying in a flurry of rage and adrenaline. The crowd exploded into chaos, the roar from the stands nearly drowning out the cursing and whistle blowing.
Powers came out of his crease, crossing his arms and squaring his shoulders at the other goalie, who was already drifting out to accept the challenge. Jett was barely holding Wolf back with his much smaller frame, but it wouldn’t take much effort to get around him.
Bracken took Holt to the ice. The second he was off his skates, the refs split them up and pushed everyone back. No other fights had broken out, and the goalies were still posturing at one another, but the tension was high.
“That was like watching two geriatrics in a nursing home fighting over the last Viagra,” said Park, who had brazenly come to stand beside Jett on the ice.
Jett wanted to be mean because he was just as pissed as his teammates, but he fucking laughed.
