Chapter Twenty-Five
Two days after the Christmas party, we have a home game against the Winnipeg Jets. Madison and Claire are in attendance, seated in their favorite up-on-the-glass spots.
During warm-ups, I make a point to stop and greet them with a friendly tap on the glass with my stick.
Madison throws me a kiss, and Claire waves.
It’s so cool that Madison and I don’t have to hide our love anymore.
But back to the upcoming game—it’s an important one. We lost the last two, so we need to turn things around…and fast. Every point matters in this league, and competition is fierce.
Once the puck drops, it’s on.
Both we and the Jets are playing strong.
The emphasis for both teams tonight seems to be defense. We’re shutting down their plays, and they’re doing the same to us.
But then, in the final minutes of the first period, things open up a bit.
I get off a great pass to Shane, who makes his way past a defenseman and down the ice. I’m right behind him, and Easton is over on the left.
Shane passes the puck back to me, and since I have a clear lane, I just shoot the fucker at the net.
It goes past the goalie and in!
Finally.
We’re up 1–0 now.
My linemates and I celebrate and return to the bench.
Coach gives us all pats on the backs and tells us, “Nice work, boys, nice work. Now let’s keep it up.”
Man, it feels good to score a goal, and an important one at that.
The remainder of the game, play is back to being tight. But we’re holding on to our one-goal lead. I’d like to see us get an “insurance” goal, but it’s just not happening.
Fuck.
I’m getting a little frustrated, so I’m being more physical with my play. I have to be careful, though. I don’t want to get called for a penalty. That would give the opposing team a really great chance to score.
Yeah, so calm down, buddy.
Unfortunately, there’s one dude who’s really getting on my nerves. He’s a forward, like me, and he’s been on me all night.
When we end up in a corner together, battling for the puck, the asshole elbows me in the fucking face.
My helmet slips up and off, and the whistle blows.
The jackass is getting called for a penalty, which is good for our team, but the damage has been done. I’m going to have another motherfucking black eye.
Why do I keep getting these?
Though this is my right eye, whereas the last one was on my left.
Grrr…
I’d love to beat this dude’s ass, but I don’t want to go to the penalty box too.
So I just quietly skate over to the bench.
The trainer takes a look at my eye to make sure there’s no real damage.
“You’ll be fine,” he informs me with a pat on the shoulder.
I nod. “Thanks.”
That’s about it for the action. The minutes tick down, and there’s no more scoring.
We win 1–0.
Not a blowout by any means, but hey, we’ll take the points.
A win is a win.
A few hours later, I’m back home with Madison…in my bed…pounding into her until I feel her orgasming.
That makes me follow suit, coming hard inside her.
“Fuck, babe.” I roll off her and onto my back.
Snuggling up to me, Madison reaches up and touches just below my black eye. “I hate when you get one of these,” she says. “But is it wrong that I love what it brings out in you?”
I laugh, placing my hand over hers. “Yeah, right,” I reply. “You might be on to something there. Maybe I should get into more altercations. What do you think?”
Turning serious, she lowers her hand to my chest and taps once. “No, as much as it brings out the beast in you, I don’t like to see you get hurt.”
I cup her cheek. “Aww, sweetheart, I love you so much.”
“I love you, too, Lennox. In fact, I feel the same as you told me you do—you own my heart.”
“Babe,” I reply, looking into her eyes, “you not only own my heart, you are my heart.”