Page 93 of These Wicked Hearts

Obnoxious, loud, ridiculous, and maybe a touch immature.

But here . . . holy shit. Here, he owns this place. He commands the arena. There’s a dominance and confidence about him that’s just so sexy. I enjoy our roles in the bedroom, but this man right here, playing this wild game, is a completely different animal. I would almost think he’s possessed if it weren’t for the goofy smiles he shoots my way from time to time.

I find Atlas again. I’ve tried to keep my eyes on him, but the way he cuts across the rink is lethal. Atlas skates to face off with a player. He hunches low and precise, shoulders tight and ready, his stick glued to the spot, waiting to strike while the ref holds a puck just out of their reach.

Measured and focused.

The puck drops and Atlas strikes fast. Slapping it to the side, he weaves through the defenders as his teammates skate toward the end. He’s cut off by an opponent reaching out with his stick. “What the fuck. That’s a slash, ref,” I yell.

Then I slowly sit down, because what the fuck is wrong with me?

I ignore the heat of my friend’s eyes as he stares at me. “Fuck off,” I whisper.

“What the hell was that?”

I clear my throat. “It was a slash. Obviously.” I shake my head. The ref does blow the whistle on a delayed penalty, and the fact that I know what any of this means is concerning. What’s happened to me?

Chen leans into me. “The dick must be—” I shove him away.

The player who hit my hockey boy goes to the time-out box. They set up again and Atlas is off. I know now he’s probably nearing his end. It’s almost been a minute, and I can tell he’s starting to get tired. “Come on,” I whisper to myself, and thankfully Chen doesn’t hear me over the roar of the fans. I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night.

A player with the last name Acciari finds Atlas in the cluster and shoots to him. He takes possession alone and turns sharply toward the goalie, who braces for impact.

It happens so fast. Faster than Atlas can prepare for. An opposing player comes in hard from his side and slams Atlas to the ice with a thunderous noise.

Everything goes silent.

Atlas doesn’t move, his hands gripping the back of his head. Acciari skates fast, taking hold of the opponent and throwing off his gloves, then he swings. They’re fighting, the crowd is roaring. It’s chaos as other players grab jerseys and find a sparring partner.

All I focus on is him. He’s slow to get up and collapses back onto the ice at the attempt. The crowd roars, but it’s drowned out by the rushing heat in my ears. Slowly the noise starts to fade as the fans realize this is more serious than they thought.

“Shit, he’s not getting up.” I feel a tug on my jeans and look down at Chen. When did I stand?

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

Their doctor walks onto the ice and crouches down by Atlas, who’s slowly trying to stand. Two of his teammates come over and help him up, each taking a side. Atlas attempts to steady himself with their help but topples forward a bit, unsteady on his skates.

“Hey, you alright?” I blink and look down at my friend

I slowly sit with a nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.” My voice feels strained. I watch as long as I can until I see them take Atlas out of the arena. “I hope he’s okay.”

“You good?” Chen laughs, trying to lighten the mood. “You look like you were about to jump down there yourself.”

I force a smile, but it feels weak, and I stop the attempt halfway through the gesture. “I hope he’s okay.” I feel like I can’t breathe.

“You sure you’re okay? You’re pale as fuck. Not the normal pale, sickly pale.”

“Fuck off.” I laugh a little, but it sounds far away. “I’m okay, just nauseous, I guess. That was nasty.”

The ref skates to the center and announces the call. I barely hear it over the crescendo of boos that echo through the arena. “What happened?”

“I didn’t hear.”

“Rome Acciari got a double minor for fighting and drawing blood,” the woman next to me says.

“What about the guy who hit Atlas?”

“Atlas? Oh, right. Sgarbossa. I keep forgetting he’s on our team now. It was a clean hit according to the refs.” She shrugs.