Thank fuck because it gives me a second to breathe.
The Serpents win the next face-off, but Knight intercepts a pass. He carries it past the red line and sends it into the offensive zone.
Connor chases after it, tying it up along the boards. Smart play. We don’t need to score, just need to make sure the Serpents don’t. The seconds tick by and the buzzer sounds.
Game ends 4-3.
I can’t stop smiling as we get into the handshake line. Best I’ve played in a long time. Rua plasters on an obnoxious smirk as he shakes my hand.
I really want to punch his face in.
“Fuck, Henneman. Couldn’t play that well last year?” Reed pats my shoulder. “Or is hanging around Walsh rubbing off?”
I stare at him and he winks.
My cheeks heat. Has Connor talked about us to his friends?
Reed laughs, shakes his head, then moves on.
I scan the rink for Connor, but he’s not out here. Thought he might’ve stayed to talk to Reed a bit more. Guess not.
I hop off the ice and make my way to the locker room. Down the hallway on my left, someone’s shouting, another voice shouting back.
Connor?
What the hell is going on?
The shouting stops, but when Connor doesn’t appear, I make my way over.
I stop dead in my tracks, breath catching as I turn the corner. My ears ring, pulse hammering in my throat.
Mr. Walsh, who has Connor pinned against the wall, hand around my husband’s throat. Connor’s face is purple as he slaps and claws at his father’s arm.
I rush over and grab the back of the older Walsh’s jacket and then yank it with everything I have. He slams into the opposite wall with a thud. I drop my stick and grab the front of his shirt, pinning him with my forearm. “Touch my husband again and I will kill you.”
Mr. Walsh glares at me. “Mr. Henneman, this does not concern you. I suggest you walk away.”
I loom over him, teeth clenched so hard they might shatter. “Stay away from him. We clear?”
“Don’t bark if you can’t bite, boy.”
“What’s going—Mr. Walsh, you’re not supposed to be back here.” Coach Nieminen walks toward us.
I step back but keep myself between Connor and his father.
Mr. Walsh adjusts his jacket, his gaze going from me to his son. “This isn’t over.”
I turn to Connor once his father is out of sight. “You okay?”
He just stares at me, then at Coach Nieminen, who’s now been joined by half the team.
Coach Harper comes over, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Give him some space.”
Connor straightens. “I’m fine.”
But he's not fine. Everyone can see that.
“Let's get you checked out.” Harper steps forward. “That looked like it couldhave—”
