He pulls away and looks down the hall. Coach Saunders is walking our way, and he stops in his tracks when he sees us all huddled together.
Maverick grins, and there’s nothing sweet about it. “You might want to call the commissioner and start apologizing, Coach. We’re going to be in a heap of fucking trouble when we’re finished here tonight.”
THIRTY-SIX
MAVERICK
I’m not a violent guy.
I get into the occasional fight during games, a tussle where I throw off my gloves and get down to business, but most of the time, it’s for shits and giggles. Something to rile up the crowd that doesn’t have any real bite behind it.
Today, though, I’m on a warpath.
Cole Meyers is my target, and I’m not going to stop until I’ve broken him into a thousand pieces.
The rest of the guys feel the same way. I see it in their eyes as we take the ice for warmups. Disdain rolls off of them when they look at the Wildebeests bench, and I know tonight is going to be a fucking bloodbath.
I half-ass my stretches near center ice. It’s pointless to spend my normal amount of time getting my body loose and limber—I’m not going to be in the game long enough to care how my legs feel.
Cole skates up to me and gives me a wide grin. “Miller,” he says, like we’re best fucking friends. College bros in the same fraternity who partied together, and it makes me sick. “Nice to meet you.”
I’d love to put my hands around his throat. Wring his neck until he was out of air and couldn’t breathe. And when he begged for mercy, I’d only press harder.
“And who are you?” I bend down to fix my laces. Anything is better than looking at his stupid face.
“Cole,” he yells over the music. “Cole Meyers. I got called up for tonight’s game. It’s my first time in the NHL,” he says proudly, and I hum like I give a shit.
“Congratulations,” I toss back.
Passed around.
Everyone could have their fill.
I don’t care if he said it as a joke.
Whether it’s locker room bullshit he’s tossing around because he’s trying to be fucking funny.
This man is a predator and the scum of the earth, and I can’t wait to end him.
I take a breath and scan the rink, trying to calm down and ignoring the fucker in front of me. I spot Emerson finishing her stretches and talking with Hudson.
He’s making her laugh, telling some elaborate story with his hands. I smile when her shoulders shake and she tips back her head, her laughter echoing across the ice.
There’s not a lick of jealousy when I look at them. I don’t want to pull him away from her or act like an idiot so I can get her attention.
All I am is really fucking grateful.
I’m grateful for his cool demeanor and the way he’s keeping her company. I’m grateful he’s making sure there’s a smile on her face. I’m grateful when he glances over at me and gives me a single nod, telling me it’s okay.
“You all are having a good year,” Cole says, and I realize he’s been talking for the last fifteen seconds. “Playoff bound probably.”
“Looks like it.”
“My AHL team has been shit this season, and I really hope I can stay with the Wildebeests long-term. The AHL is filled with a bunch of has-beens, so it’s nice to be around some real athletes.”
My eye twitches.
Real athletes,like we don’t all play the same fucking sport.
