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“Did you hit her?”
“What?!” I snap as I whip my head around, glaring at him with deadly intent. He’s lucky I like him or he’d be tasting my knuckles right now.
He steps back, showing me his hands in surrender.
“It wasn’t me,” I say, taking a deep breath to try and calm down. “It was Maddock.”
“Ooh, boy,” he says with a low whistle. “Are you going to kick the shit out of him again tonight?” He rubs his hands together in excitement. “This is going to be epic.”
“It’s not going to happen,” I grunt as I turn back to my laces. “I’m not fighting him.”
“What?” Harris says, staring at me in shocked confusion. “Why not? That’s your whole deal.”
Not anymore, it’s not. Jane is my whole deal now. She’s going to be watching and I don’t want to disappoint her by getting into another vicious brawl. I want her to be proud of me. I want to be the kind of man she’ll respect.
“Maybe this will change your mind,” Harris says as he pulls out his phone.
“It won’t.”
“Don’t be so sure,” he says as he scrolls through it. “The reason why I asked is because of this. Look at what Maddock is saying about you online.”
He shows me his phone and my stomach drops. It’s a picture on his Instagram of Jane’s bloody face.
The caption underneath makes me livid.
Look at what Tucker McKinstry did to his girl last night at the bar. Only a little bitch would hit a woman.
Vicious pounding rage takes over every inch of my body. I let out a furious roar and punch my locker as hard as I can. The metal door caves in like it was hit by a meteor.
I want to murder him. I want him dead.
I want to see his blood on the ice. All of it.
My muscles are flexed and I’m feeling twitchy all over as fantasies of vengeance run through my mind.
But then Jane’s beautiful face runs through my mind and it calms me a little.
I think of last night and holding her in my arms and it calms me a little more.
She’s all that matters. Not some prick talking shit about me online.
I still want to make him pay.
But I won’t.
My girl comes first.
Always.
It’s the second period and Maddock is acting cockier than ever. He’s skating around the ice like he owns the joint.
It’s one cheap shot after another and I’m trying to remain calm. I’m trying to keep my composure.
I’m doing this for Jane. I’m doing this for us.
Edvard is skating along the boards after passing the puck to Austin. Maddock goes charging over with his stick in the air. When the ref is distracted, he swings his stick down like a tomahawk and cracks Edvard on the wrist.
The refs may not have seen it, but the crowd does and they are not happy. Roars of outrage and then collective booing fills the stadium.
