Chapter 35
The girl I’ve fallen bat shit crazy for is breaking.
Crumbling before my eyes and I can’t get to her.
And it guts me. I feel it everywhere. In every fiber of my bones.
The fear, the disappointment, the surrender.
Whoever is responsible for putting that look on her face, for any bit of agony she’s living is going to be begging me for mercy by the end of the night.
Number thirty-one. McKenna.
I take off in his direction. Every thought leaves my head except the look on my girlfriend’s face.
McKenna is already watching me. Smug bastard doesn’t even try to act dumb.
Fuck.
My stomach twists and I feel it like shackles around my ankles.
He wants me to attack. Get me thrown out of the game. Have me watch as my girlfriend suffers silently in the stands and my team loses the game without their captain.
Fuck that.
I angle toward center ice instead, never taking my eyes off him. He notices immediately. His smile only grows wider as he glides out to meet me, his stick resting lazily across the backs of his shoulders like he’s got nowhere else to be.
This may be your turf. But that’s my girl.
I stride around him and I don’t miss the beat of confusion in his face. “What did you do?”
He shrugs and smiles wide at his fans. “Bein’ a good host. Your girl looked cold.”
My grip tightens around my stick. “I asked what you did.”
I swear to God if someone touched her, got physical with her in any way shape or form, there’s nothing that will keep them safe from me.
No rules. No penalties. No contracts. Nothing.
Coach’s whistle cuts through warmups, signaling everyone back toward the benches, but I don’t change direction.
“I gave her something better to wear.” His eyes flick toward the stands behind me before returning to mine. “Looks good on her? Better than your boring ass colors. Say, think the red really brings out the blush in her cheeks, don’t you?”
White-hot anger burns in my chest, and my fists start to tingle.
Hunter slaps my shoulder. “Save it for the game, Cap.” With a force I can’t explain, Hunter glides me off the ice and onto the bench. “He’s baiting you, Andrews. Fucker’s counting on you to lose your mind before the puck even drops.”
“What’s going on?” Grey asks.
“Front row, nine o’clock,” Hunter tells them.
Greyson’s and Cole’s eyes follow.
“What the fuck?” Grey asks.
Cole’s menacing gaze travels to the team in red across the ice. “I’ll take care of it,” he murmurs and we all know he will.
“No you won’t,” I growl. “Not alone anyway. And not enough to take him out of the game.” I let my gaze travel to their side. “I want this to last.”
And it does.
It happens in shifts.
Leman gets to him first, because of course he does. One hard shove into the boards turns into gloves hitting the ice and two punches before the refs drag him off.
Two minutes later, Jackson catches McKenna along the boards and puts him down hard, clean enough to not earn a trip to the box.
Good news. We’re near the end of first period and they haven’t scored. Bad news…neither have we.
Hunter waits before taking his turn. He doesn’t want to. He wants to play. But he knows I won’t rest until the guy can’t move.
Early in the second, we win the faceoff, and Grey takes this one, skating halfway out of his crease to introduce the guy to the blocker when he gets too close to the net.
One by one, my boys make sure the Titans’ captain knows exactly what happens when you fuck with one of ours.
But now? He’s about to find out what happens when he fucks with Isla.
There’s nothing subtle about my approach. I already know how this is going to end. My score tonight will be zero. His too. But Isla, she’s walking out of here a winner. I’m making sure of that right now.
I catch him after the whistle and drive him into the boards so hard the glass rattles.
His gloves are gone before anyone can get between us.
The first punch snaps his head back. The second splits his lip.
By the third, there’s blood streaking my knuckles, and I’m nowhere near done.
“You ever touch her again,” I say, keeping my voice low.
“I’ll spend sixty minutes making you wish you picked another sport. ”
He holds the smug look as best he can but I catch it falter before I’m hauled away with enough adrenaline to go for round two with this guy.
Coach is waiting just inside the tunnel with his arms crossed and disappointment written all over his face. “You want to explain why my team just led a game-long attack on the Titans’ captain?”
I’m breathless and drenched. “It was necessary,” I seethe.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got, Coach.”
He studies me for a long second. “Then hear mine. You’re off the ice for the rest of the game.”
We lose three-one, and my teammates don’t seem entirely pissed about it.
I sat out the last period, but so did McKenna.
Wuss too beat up and afraid we weren’t done?
Grey scored once. Leman almost tied it but missed. Nearly every goal happened in the third—when the problems were off the ice.
By the time the final horn went off, number thirty-one was bruised and limping, but our season record got another loss on it.
The locker room is quieter than it should be after a rivalry game. No one throws equipment or starts blaming the officials, or even promises to get ‘em next time, which almost makes it worse.
Coach gives us a short speech about discipline, wasted chances, and captains who need to remember that setting the tone doesn’t mean dragging the whole team into whatever personal war they’ve decided to start.
I hit the showers the second he leaves. Coach is right. I wanted to bring McKenna down with me. Instead, I brought my teammates down by allowing them to help. All because I wanted to make his pain last the entire game instead of taking him out in one shot.
The anger drains out of me and leaves something heavier in its place. Isla watching all of that without knowing why it happened. She watched me look at her like she’d done something wrong, and then sat through sixty minutes wearing the proof of a joke she should have never been a part of.
Steam still hangs in the air by the time I shut off the water, wrap a towel around my waist, and step out.
I glance around the room, almost daring for someone to speak up.
Grey finally does. “Took you long enough. We meetin’ them at their hang out to finish the job?”
I rake my fingers through wet hair. “No. And I’m sorry you—”
“Fuck that,” Hunter shouts. “Yeah, we took a hit in the ranks but that was some fucked up shit. I’m with Greyson. Anyone know where they’re headin’ tonight?”
“This is what they fucking do. Titans play dirty, they always have,” Jackson argues. “Now before I break any noses, we got a plan to save our own asses after tonight’s loss? I don’t know about you fuckers, but hockey’s serious for me.”
First guy to make sense all night.
My chest is on fire because my instinct is to file out of here and take McKenna out for the season. But that won’t end well for me. And I won’t risk my team’s involvement.
“Let’s just go home.” I look at each one of them.
“I’m getting us back up in the ranks. I swear to you.
Every spare second I have, I’m studying teams, stats, film—whatever I can get my hands on.
I’ll know who we’re playing before they step onto the fucking ice.
We’re not getting caught off guard like this again. ”
Hunter and Cole nod, but I can tell they’re ready for blood the second I say go.
“Hold the fuck up,” Grey cuts in. “They touch her?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
“How do you know?” Ronan asks.
“Because someone would be dead right now if they had.” I run a hand down my face. “I’m sorry. I know tonight was important, guys. But so is she.”
Hunter exhales. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, man. Have you heard from her?”
I shake my head.
Grey throws a T-shirt over his head. “Suit yourselves, I’m going to find them. Cole, you comin’?”
Cole finishes drying off. “Lead the way.”
“Put some fucking pants on, Leman,” Hunter drawls.
Cole glances down at his dick. “I was going to.”
The team dresses and argues over who’s taking on which Titan when we find them out celebrating.
But I think we all know we’re each getting on that bus and heading home. We don’t need any more trouble.
Besides, this is my fight.
“Come on guys, wrap it up and let’s get the fuck out of this building. I need to go find Isla.”
That’s the understatement of the century. I’m ready to burn the place down to find her right now. To rip her out of that thing and tell her no one will ever hurt her like that again.
Hunter tosses me a jersey. “Do me a favor and give her my spare.”
Greyson slings his bag over his shoulder. “Yeah, and you should probably put something on too.”
Shit. I’ve been shuffling through my things aimlessly, I haven’t even gotten dressed. “Go on, I’m going to finish up here, find Isla, and then meet you outside.”
He glances toward the locker-room door before looking back at me. “Uh, you might not have to.”
Before I can ask what he means, Isla pushes inside with Tisch behind her, both looking uncertain whether they’re allowed another step.
Isla’s hair is out of sorts like she’d been running her hands through it.
She’s buried beneath a jersey that hangs to her thighs, McKenna’s number stitched across her chest.
Seeing it up close is worse.
Not because it belongs to him. But because she looks uncomfortable in it. Too small.
Her eyes find mine. “I tried to wait outside,” she says, her voice quiet, “but…”
No one moves for half a second.
“What’s she doing here?” Hunter shouts, glaring at Tisch.
“Making sure she made it here safely, asshole.”
He takes a menacing step forward. “I’m the asshole?”
“Oh, what are you going to do, attack a girl? I’ve taken shit from guys a lot bigger than you, so back off unless you want to see my new high kick.”
Hunter jerks like he’d been slapped.
“I’m well aware of what my brother did, alright. Now will you give these two a fucking minute?”