Page 65 of Play Dirty

“Because from where I’m standing,” I went on, “it’s real easy to call it from the boards.”

Still nothing. Haven just looked at me, blankly. Her gaze was steady. Unflinching.

For some reason that made me even angrier.

“No?” I challenged, glibly. “Then shut up.”

The words landed harder than I expected. For a few long seconds, nobody moved a muscle.

Haven held my gaze for one more beat; those shrewd blue eyes locked on mine. Then she turned…

… and walked off the ice. Just like that.

No argument. No comeback.

Nothing.

Shit.

“Reset!” Mercer shouted, after a moment.

Everything went on like nothing had happened, which made me feel a little bit like shit. We ran it again. Same problem. I forced the pass too early this time, and it resulted in a turnover.

Whistle.

“Focus,” Mercer snapped.

I was focused — or at least, I had been. The issue was, well…

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over my face as we circled back.

I’d probably gone too far.

Oh yeah? The little voice in my head chimed in. And just what the hell were you supposed to do?

I didn’t know. And that was another problem.

Take direction from someone who’d never—

I cut the thought off as we lined up again. We ran the drill. Same breakdown. I swore under my breath.

Something was off. Not the system, either. Me.

That didn’t happen. It couldn’t—

Movement at the edge of the ice caught my attention. I turned… and froze.

Haven stepped into the ice.

In skates.

There was no announcement, no hesitation. She just took off.

“What the hell?” Zack muttered behind me.

She didn’t look at anyone, or utter a word. She just picked up a stick, and took the puck.

The first thing I noticed was how clean it was. No adjustment. No testing the ice. The puck stayed glued to her blade as she moved, smooth and controlled, cutting across the zone like she’d been doing it her whole life.