Page 1 of What About Us

PROLOGUE

XANDER

“This is not going to be our last game of the season!” I shout to my teammates in the locker room. We’ve already played two periods, and we’re tied. “When we win today, we’re in the finals, and I want that Cup.”

They cheer and nod, some drinking water, others retying their skates. It’s always chaos in the locker room.

I fucking live for this.

“Dallas isn’t leaving our home arena with the win. Fuck that!”

“Fuck that!” they cheer in response.

“Let’s fucking do this!”

I follow my guys out to the ice, and we run a few drills before the third period begins. The thing is, I hate playing Dallas. Their star center, Matthews, is an arrogant piece of shit that I’ve despised since our rookie season. I was drafted as number one that year, and he was number two, and he’s never gotten over that. He runs his mouth, his guys run their mouths, and I’m good at ignoring them.

Until I’m not.

And I have a bad feeling about this last period of the game.

“You’re a fucking pussy,” Matthews snarls as he gets in position for the face-off.

“Takes one to know one.” I smirk, and then we’re off, and just like every minute I’m on the ice, I know that this is what I’m made to do.

I live for everything about this. The smell of the ice, the way it feels like I’m flying on my skates, the sound of the fans, the sweat I’m bathed in. I fucking love all of it.

Cooper, my teammate and best friend, passes me the puck as we skate to the goal, and then I’m cornered at the boards, by fucking Matthews of all people.

“I’m going to take you out tonight,” he snarls.

“Like, on a date? Too late, already took your mom out last night. Great fuck.”

He roars, hits me, and then it’s on.

This motherfucker.

We both throw our gloves down and go to town, punching each other, shoving, and then I’m on the ground, still fighting him and two of his teammates, until my guys pull them off.

“I hope you fucking die,” Matthews growls before hitting me again, and then I feel him hit my knee fucking hard, feel a pop, and I know.

I’m out.

I’m fucking out.

This fucker just jacked up my knee.

He’s laughing when they pull him off me, and I can’t move because I’m seeing stars after getting my head pounded on the ice and there’s no way my knee will support me.

“Hendrix!” The medical team is here, and I can hear my guys yelling nearby. The crowd is quiet. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Four.”

The medic frowns and nods at the guy next to him.

“Let’s get you up.”

“No.” I sigh. “The knee is done. I can’t skate out of here by myself.”