Chapter 13 #2
My excitement grew exponentially after seeing my photograph as one of the twelve. I hurriedly read the article, shocked they’d waited until the win last night to print the article.
“Up and coming center standout Ford Kendrick is ready to have his day on the ice. With his combination of artistry and aggression on the ice, and his obvious love of the game, he’s a testament to why shifters should be allowed to play in sports.
In our prediction, a playoff win would secure him a seat at the NHL table, exactly where he should be. ”
While I read the passage out loud, I heard the change in my tone in hearing the reporter mention me being a shifter. Now the entire world knew I was a beast in disguise.
“Oh, would you please stop it,” Beck said as he yanked the keys from the ignition and threw open the door. “You just had the world’s best promotion for free and you’re grumbling like some kid who didn’t get his candy bar after dinner.”
“The asshole didn’t need to mention that I’m a shifter.”
He shook his head. “I don’t like the continuous questions about whether we can control our wolves or whether our attributes are unfair to human players, but here’s the thing.
You are a shifter. There’s nothing you can do to change that.
It’s in our bloodstream and our DNA. It’s past time you stop searching for someone to blame for that atrocity as I’ve heard you call it.
Besides, you got your willy whistled last night and you’re still grumpy as fuck. ”
“I’m not grumpy!”
“Right. And I have a bridge or two to sell you in North Bend. Take my advice. Embrace your wolf or he will eat you alive.”
“Fuck you.”
“There’s something else floating around social media.”
“Do I want to know?”
“A few bunnies are claiming you’re off the most eligible bachelor list. Maybe that’ll be good for your career.”
“You’re talking about Georgia taking up for us?”
“Let’s face it, dude. She was taking up for you. At least now she knows the truth about your big, fat cock. Right?”
He climbed out so I couldn’t make an immediate retort. Or kick his ass.
But I spouted off anyway. “That’s basically what Pops told me. And I am not grumpy!” Okay, so shifting the other night had brought some relief to both physical and mental agony but doing so hadn’t changed facts.
Being a shifter brought both fear and a determination in humans to keep us on a chain or in a cage.
Plus, I had every reason to be grumpy, including finding it nearly impossible to control my urges. I sat where I was as a couple of other vehicles pulled in. The fear must be real considering the parking lot was full.
Almost as soon as I climbed out, a couple of the sawmill’s customers headed in my direction. They both already had beers in their hands. Evidently, the meeting included several counties since both their homes and businesses were almost an hour away.
“Ken. Mike. Good to see you,” I said, already holding out my hand.
“I was hoping to run into you today,” Ken said as he lifted his beer. “Quite a game last night. Took my sons to see you. One of them is now insistent on becoming a hockey player.”
“If he’s serious, you might want to talk to Cole before you leave. He’s agreed to be one of the hockey camp counselors this summer.”
“That’s perfect. Thanks for the heads up.”
I waved to a couple of other folks from town as they headed in, their hands full with whatever potluck food they’d brought with them. The fragrance of grilled chicken had already wafted from the multiple grills behind the building. As soon as I took a deep whiff, Mike shook his head.
“Any excuse for a party. Been a while. Kind of missed the regularly scheduled meetings.” Mike sighed. “A real shame the reason isn’t more benign.”
“Hopefully, the assholes will get tired of using us for target practice.”
The subject was obviously a sore point since Ken let out a slow and deep growl. “From what I heard, a few wolves who were attacked retaliated. All self-defense, but instilling fear of our kind.”
“That’s what they want,” Mike added.
I scanned the forest, wondering how long it would be before our quiet sanctuary of a town would lose its innocence. “Then I guess we need to ensure we don’t give it to them. I better get inside.” I clapped Ken on the shoulder before walking away.
Just as Jack Knight rounded the corner. He’d been my best friend what felt like a hundred years before.
We’d done almost everything together, including playing hockey.
Where I’d gone on to play professionally, he’d taken a couple of tours in the Marines.
Now he owned a regional sporting goods and tourist location, utilizing his hefty inheritance after the death of his parents.
He stopped in his tracks, saying something to one of his friends. Whatever it was, the guy offered a nasty look before heading into the building.
Jack’s sneer was a typical reaction, which was mild in comparison to his usual behavior. Sure, we were adults, but we carried significant baggage with us.
I’d been insistent he’d betrayed me.
He believed I’d killed his sister.
Or at least had been responsible for her death.
He didn’t need to remind me of the hatred he felt.
Or the intense burning agony that never left, never allowed you to breathe or fully enjoy any aspect of your life.
Always feeling guilty and unprepared for the wave of despair that shot over you when you least expected or wanted the heavy-handed emotions.
Yeah, I had that too. In spades.
He rubbed his jaw and took a few steps closer. For the most part, we’d simply stayed away from each other, accepting that nothing could repair our friendship.
Then there’d been the incident the night before. He’d gone from being a decent guy to being a bully, something his parents had blamed me for before their deaths. The older I got, the more I realized everyone handled grief differently.
“Ford,” he muttered, nodding while he glared me in the eyes.
“Jack.”
We did nothing but glare at each other, but between the testosterone and the pent-up rage that had never abated, we were sticks of dynamite ready to be lit. One false move and the day would turn bloody.
“What the fuck was that shit last night?” he tossed out.
“You mean the two assholes who decided to harass a woman in the ladies’ bathroom? Is that what you’re talking about?”
His entire body bristled. “Ah, are you jealous?”
“Jealous?” I asked, laughing easily. “Of two dudes with zero finesse and brains the size of peas?” For whatever reason, when we were caught together, we both resorted to the jerks we’d been in high school.
Although the bantering we’d once shared had an entirely different tone.
“Just another puck bunny whore spreading her legs for you? That’s all you can handle. Plus, there isn’t a real woman out there who can’t see through your bullshit. You’re a monster.”
I couldn’t care less what the asshole called me since we had similar canine blood running through our veins.
However, allowing him to disparage Georgia or any woman for that matter was unacceptable and whether I or my wolf reacted first didn’t matter in the equation. My reaction was exactly the same as the night before.
I did so without thinking of any consequences.
My fist landed against his jaw, the force pitching him backward by several feet. When he slammed into the tree, the brutal sound wasn’t made from a crack in his jaw but by a live tree limb breaking from a massive oak tree.
Down both went, the limb smashing into a dozen pieces.
But the man was right back on his feet, his eyes a wild reflection of his barely controlled beast as he lunged toward me. Even as he managed to get off a savage gut blow, I didn’t fall prey to any pain, issuing one jab after another.
Soon, we were in a ruthless fist fight, neither one considering backing down.
The scarred, fractured hatred had been brewing for years, our emotions and the circumstances of our friendship ending fueling the brawl.
Shouts occurred all around us, but most knew better than to get in our way. When Jack gained leverage, using his highly trained military skills to knock me on my ass, my wolf was out for blood.
He found it in splitting the man’s lip, the stench of copper filling the air. Another swing and I nailed his nose, breaking it and savoring the loud crack.
“Stop it, both of you.” The deep voice did nothing to curtail the rage or the need to exercise the steady flow of emotions.
One punch, two and another. Then I was down on my ass from a full-frontal assault with his boot connecting with my ribs. Anguish flashed through me and I was toppled backward. Another jab to my face and I tasted blood.
The crowd around us swelled, men trying to pull us apart, but even as hands grabbed my arms, both steadying and keeping me from taking another swing, I was determined to break free and did.
I had my hands wrapped around his throat, driving him back against the same tree while a primal roar escaped my lungs.
Forget the taste of blood as a powerful draw, I could see it in the periphery of my vision. For a few seconds, I was no longer in control.
My wolf was.