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We circle each other to the left of the net and as if by some pre-planned moment, we crash into each other. We’re both seasoned fighters and I know his style well since we were defensive line mates together for the Cold Fury. Normally, I’d say I’m the meaner of the two and that gives me the advantage, but Lucas is riding his heroic white steed tonight, trying to avenge his sister.
I grab his sweater at his chest and throw a quick right cross. It glances off Lucas’s helmet but he strikes fast, his fist at my left cheek, hitting me so hard I feel the skin tear. I pull back my arm and let it fly, landing two solid hits to his head, although still mostly helmet. I’m pulling back for a third when something slams into me from the side so hard, my skates go out from under me. I hit the ice with a jarring impact and a huge body lands right on top of me, knocking the air from my lungs. I focus and see it’s Max looking at me through his goalie mask before he’s pulled off by the refs.
I jump up, ready to go at Lucas again but see that both teams have mobbed each other, having taken offense to Max jumping into the fight. There’s a lot of shoving and cursing, name-calling and dares to drop gloves. Eventually, the refs get players sent back to their respective benches, and all the while, the crowd screams for blood. The Titans’ fans are not happy I got double-teamed, but none of them know I had that coming.
I skate to the bench while the melee is being sorted out and let one of the trainers slap two butterflies on the cheek wound. I then immediately skate toward the penalty box.
Lucas is already sitting in his little glass prison, hatred radiating from his expression as he watches me. We’re both given five-minute major penalties for fighting and to my surprise, Max is given one too. He doesn’t serve the penalty, though, but rather a player of their coach’s choosing joins Lucas.
This is fortuitous as it puts us up a player, and with the advantage, we capitalize when Foster scores a goal just eighteen seconds into the power play. When our penalties are up and we come out of our respective boxes, I dig the knife in just a bit as Lucas and I skate past each other. “Thanks for the goal.”
♦
We’re all ridinghigh after defeating the Cold Fury, so much so that I’ve been able to put Simone out of my mind for a good half hour while I shower and change. I’ve enjoyed the recaps of great plays, snapping towels on asses and the boisterous vibe going on.
“Van,” Boone calls out as I gather my duffel and head for the exit. “Mario’s. Meet you there for a beer?”
I shake my head. “I’m out, man. Going home to bed. I’m exhausted.”
Of course, going home means going to the hotel I checked into.
“Old man,” he taunts, and I don’t let it get to me.
I throw a hand up in the air. “See you at practice tomorrow.”
I leave the good vibes and excited banter behind, stepping out into the hallway, and come up short as I see Max waiting there. He’s clearly fresh out of the shower with his dark hair the same color as Simone’s wet and his hazel eyes staring at me warily. He’s in street clothes and not a suit, and that means he must be staying here in Pittsburgh for the night. I presume to visit with Simone and Malik.
“Here for round two?” I ask as I move past him and head toward the players’ entrance into the parking garage.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he replies as he follows me.
That stops me and I turn to face him. “What should I be thanking you for?”
“For stopping Lucas from killing you. It’s why I took you down to the ice so the refs would stop the fight.”
Huh? So he wasn’t trying to kill me along with his brother. Interesting.
I shrug and turn away. “Well, thanks.”
“Come on, man,” Max says, jogging past me and getting in my way so I’m brought up short. “Give me five minutes of your time to talk about Simone.”
“What’s to talk about? I’ve asked for a divorce, she’s clinging on without any hope. Lucas and Malik hate me. So should you.”
“But does Simone?” Max asks pointedly.
I don’t even think to lie to him. “No. She still loves me.”
“And you still love her.”
“Always,” I admit with no shame. “Which is why she can’t be with me.”
Max lowers his gaze, shaking his head with a smirk plastered on his face.
“What?” I demand with irritation. Like he has the most obvious answer and I can’t see it.
“I’m going to make a prediction,” Max says with a chuckle as he steps in and claps a hand on my shoulder. I stare at him, teeth clenched. “I predict that everything is going to turn out just fine.”
Meaning that Simone will move on and have a wonderful and fulfilled life without me? “What makes you say that?”
