Page 92 of Monstrous Serpent

So, then, why are they here?

I swallow hard and look back at them. Kincaid gives a single nod. Heat rushes up my neck and to my face. I spin away before I do something ridiculous, like smile. At our rivals. In an arena full of our fans.

“Aww, look at that face.” Novotny waggles his brows as I pass his crease. “Who's making you blush, Jenkins? Point them out and I'll give them the royal approval.”

“Fuck off, Novotny.”

“I'm serious. You're glowing. It's actually offensive how cute you look right now. That level of radiance in my crease is distracting. I need to focus.” He gestures toward the stands. “Should I wave at them for you?”

“Just watch the puck.”

“Boring.”

UConn is pressing hard in the second. Their forwards are getting way too comfortable in our zone. Doyle and I are doing our part up front, but every time we dump it in and forecheck, UConn snaps it right back up ice and our D scrambles to recover.

“Fuck me. We need Henneman back.” Doyle spits water on the floor between shifts.

“No shit. Hope he’s back soon.” I watch as UConn's center fakes a shot at the top of the circle and slides it backdoor to their winger, who rips it short side. Novotny kicks it away with his pad, and the rebound dies in the corner.

Too close.

Coach Nieminen slaps the boards. “Jenkins! Doyle! Go!”

We hop over the boards, swapping with two fourth‑line guys. I pick up the puck behind our net and wheel, scanning for lanes. Doyle swings to the weak side, and I hit him with a stretch pass that splits their forwards. He carries it across the red line and dumps the puck deep.

I chase after it. Their defenseman gets there first, but I finish the check and separate him from the puck. Doyle gets possession as I crash the net, stick on the ice. He snaps a shot. I get a piece of it, deflecting it between the goalie's legs.

The horn blares.

“Fuck yeah!”

“Nice redirect. Your teammate did all the work, though.” Nakagawa taps my shin pad with his stick. “You always ride coattails, or is that just a Tuesday thing?”

I ignore him and turn to skate to the bench.

“Aww, do you only like to fight that bitch boy Serpent?”

I spin around. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me, internet boy.” Nakagawa drives his stick across my chest with a two-handed shove.

A whistle shrieks somewhere behind me, but I’m already dropping my gloves. I grab his jersey with my left and throw a right that connects with the side of his helmet. His head rocks, but the grin doesn't move.

“There it is.” He yanks me forward by the collar and gets one into my ribs. “Thought you were just a pretty face.”

I hammer a shot into his shoulder and follow with one to the body. “Thought you were supposed to be good.”

He hooks his leg behind mine and tries to trip me, but I widen my stance and pull him off balance instead. We spin, both gripping each other’s jerseys, trading body shots.

“Come on, come on. Give me something worth remembering.”

I yank his jersey up over his head as far as his cage will let it go, then drive into his ribs twice. He doubles over. I shove him hard enough that he hits the ice on his back. “Stay down.”

The whistles continue to blare as the linesmen pile in.

Nakagawa rolls onto his side, spits blood, then looks up at me through his cage. “I like you.”

The ref plants a hand on my chest, shoving me backward as a linesman hauls Nakagawa to his feet. “Both of you to the box.”