No one except Johnny. Was the guy really that stupid? Or did he just have a death wish? His eye was still a dark shade of purple and his lip was held together by a single paper stitch.
Linc had his suspicions who’d graced Johnny’s face with their fist, but everyone was keeping tight-lipped about the whole thing.
Linc stood as Johnny approached. Sweat dripped from under his helmet, and the wound on his lip tugged on his smirk.
“What?”
“Just checking in, Scottie Boy.”
Linc narrowed his eyes. There was always a sting in this guy’s tail. He wasn’t there for funsies. Did the guywantto have the shit beaten out of him? All he ever seemed to do was push people’s buttons. Linc couldn’t figure him out, but things didn’t add up.
“I had a question.”
Linc gestured for him to continue.
“I’m wondering if all those paint fumes are going to your head, ‘cause you’re playing like shit on a stick tonight.”
Linc’s fist connected with Johnny’s already bruised jaw before he even had time to take another breath, let alone utter another word. Swinging again, Linc’s knuckles connected with Johnny’s eye, clipping the edge of his helmet.
As Linc wound up up for a third strike, strong hands wrapped around his arm. Johnny flinched, ducking his face behind his forearms.
Blood trickled down his chin from his lip and nose. Linc strained against whoever had stopped him from taking another swing.
“That’s enough! Go home, Lincoln.”
“But Coach—”
“I don’t wanna hear it.” Coach crossed the locker room and waved a dismissive hand. “Go home.”
Johnny snickered, blood staining his teeth as his lips curled into a snarl.
“You too, Johnny.”
Johnny’s jaw dropped open.
Linc yanked his arm out of the clutches of his teammate.
“I want both of you in my office tomorrow morning.”
No one moved. Linc’s chest heaved from restraint. His eyes locked in silent battle with Johnny, who glowered in return.
“Move!”
Johnny stalked across the dressing room and tossed his helmet onto a bench.
“As for the rest of you, get your heads out of your asses and get back out on the ice.” Coach turned, yanked the door open, and stomped out of the locker room.
“You gonna be okay?” Russ fastened his helmet and popped his mouth guard in.
Flexing his jaw, Linc nodded.
“Go see your girl.” His best friend smacked his shoulder, grabbed his stick, and joined the line of players ready to trudge back out onto the ice.
For once, Linc didn’t want to see his girl. He didn’t want to see his teammates and he didn’t want to talk to his family.
He needed to find a way to vent his excess rage before he destroyed every relationship he had.
***
