Caleb’s eyes flick to the side. “It’s nothing new.” He’s right, but Madeline is new, and that changes everything.
I drop my gloves. Behind me, I hear the practice stop, blades scraping to a halt, voices going quiet. No one moves to intervene. They know better.
“Locke.” Coach’s voice, sharp across the ice. “Stand down. You just fucking got here—late, mind you.”
I don’t look at him. I’m watching Caleb’s face, the way the color drains from it and the way his hands come up slow and placating. He’s starting to panic seeing how serious and pissed I am.
“It was just a joke, man. You know how it is.”
“No, I don’t know.” Sure, I may be a giant prick, but I don’t engage in locker room bullshit or dick measuring. I don’t need to.
I grab his jersey, pull him off the boards, and punch him. My fist lands on his jaw with a solid crack I feel in my shoulder. He staggers, catches himself on the boards, and now there’s blood on his lip. He touches it, looks at his fingers, and something dark flashes in his eyes.
“You hit me over some girl bullshit?” He spits pink onto the ice. “She’s not even that?—”
I hit him again. This time he goes down, knees buckling, and I follow him to the ice. I catch a stray hit to my cheek from him as we go down. My knee presses into his chest, my fist pulled back. I could break his nose or his jaw. The urge burns inside me.
“Locke!” Coach’s hand comes down on my shoulder, pulling me back. “Enough. Off, now.”
I let Coach pull me up. Caleb stays on the ice, breathing hard, blood smeared on his chin. The whole team is watching. Mick has his helmet off, eyes wide. Paul is already skating over, ready to step in if I go after Caleb again. Grant stands to my left, ready to jump in if anyone else decides to try something.
“Locker room,” Coach says, his voice flat. “Both of you. Now.”
I skate to the bench without looking back. My knuckles throb, split open in one spot, and I flex my hand, feeling the sting. The anger is still there, simmering. Caleb’s words echo in my head.She’s not even that?—
I didn’t let him finish. I couldn’t. Then I would have had to kill him.
My eyes go back to the Ice Crew, and they’re all watching me too. But I only have eyes for Madeline.
Chapter Twenty-One
MADELINE
Kory stands next to me with her arms crossed, leaning against the boards. The rest of the Ice Crew gathers at the far end of the rink. Behind us, the hockey team runs drills, the sounds of pucks hitting the cross bar and skates cutting into the ice, reverberating throughout the building. We’re all waiting for Coach Murphy, but no one else but me knows she isn’t coming. I wonder when people will find out she’s missing.
“Did you see Caleb’s face?” Kory mutters, low enough for just me to hear.
I nod. My eyes were on Luke the second he hit the ice. I saw everything. Luke went straight for him when he spotted Caleb, making me wonder what their issue is. Caleb is an asshole. I enjoyed watching him get his ass beat.
“Word is he lost it completely,” says Jenna, hugging her clipboard. “Just snapped.”
“Over what?” someone asks.
Jenna shrugs. “Nobody knows. Some girl, maybe?”
“He would have to care about said girl, and that’s not Luke,” Kory responds. I force my face to stay straight.
“Is he that mean to girls?” I ask.
“He snaps back more, but when he does—” Kory shakes her head, not finishing, letting my mind fill in the blank.
Lana pushes through the crowd that’s still hanging around after the fight.
She looks right at me, sneering. “Careful who you hang out with, Maddie. He’s got a fuse as short as your pinky.” Lana wiggles her finger.
“It’s hockey. They fight,” I remind her. I half expect her to bring up seeing us kissing at the boathouse, but she doesn’t.
“So you two are a thing?” Lana asks loudly.
