Page 159 of Rookie Attraction

“Perfect. Oh, hey, can I invite Karson?” I quip.

“No,” Makela’s smile fades. “KitKat is not stepping foot inside my home. Fucking arrogant dick.”

“Look in a mirror,” I snark and everyone chuckles.

Everyone except…

“Will you two shut the fuck up?” Brady sneers. “Jesus Christ, you’re both acting stupid.”

“You’re jealous,” Makela bites back. “We have personality; you don’t.”

“Never mind parties and shit,” Brady hisses. “We all know why Kirkland’s helping Finn. Or at least one of the reasons. He feels guilty. What happened last night to Finn, and what nearly happened to some of us in the third period, is all Kirkland’s fault.”

And here we go…

“Fuck off,” I snap. “Coach warned you that playing against my former team would be rough. We all knew that.”

“Because I thought they’d beat the crap out of you!” Brady yells. “Not come after the rest of us!”

“Scared of an enforcer?” I taunt him. “If you are, you’re playing in the wrong league.”

“You’re the one who needs to get out.”

“I am out,” I smirk.

His face turns an interesting shade of purple.

“Brady.” St. Clare tugs on his friend’s jersey. “Let it go. We won last night. On to the next.”

Brady yanks his arm away, stalks towards me, and gets in my face. I don’t move; I stare him down. Berg stands up beside me, followed by Kuznetsov, Druin, Sorensen, and the rest of the team.

“No fucking way! It’s Kirkland’s fault,” Brady sneers.

“Knock off the blame game, Brady. Coach told us tensions would run higher last night, and enforcers make dirty hits no matter who’s playing.” Kuznetsov counters. “Get over it.”

“No!” Brady shouts back, spittle hitting my face. “It’s not done. Kirkland makes a big deal about needing to tell the world he’s queer, and now we have targets on our backs!”

“Dramatic much? It was one player, one game,” Berg adds. “A game we won, no thanks to you. Focus on doing better at your job and stop whining about everything else.”

“Do as your captain says,” Sorensen snarls. “Shut your mouth and get your skates on.”

“Go fuck yourself, Stewart.”

Sorensen steps forward and so does Kuz.

“Stop talking, Brady,” Berg warns.

Suddenly, Brady lifts his chin like he’s daring me to take the first shot.

“Feeling guilty can’t be the only reason Kirkland’s helping Finn. Are you trying to get into the rookie’s pants?” Brady taunts. “After all, you’re into everyone, right? Is that what Seattle was all about? You and Finn seemed more than chummy spending the day together. Maybe you and your boyfriend Taylor want to tag team the rookie with a couple of puck bunnies⁠—”

“Fuck you!” I hiss and grab his jersey.

I hear a loud throat clearing and we all look over to find Range and Laflore staring at us. How long have they been there and what did they hear?

“Brady, my office, now.”

The menacing tone of Range’s voice cuts through the tension.