Ryan flattening a BC forward with a perfect hip check. The crowd goes wild. Ryan just skates away like it's nothing. But I catch his small smile, and it does more to my chest than any goal I've scored.
I’m back out a few minutes later. BC wins the face-off, their center chipping it back to their winger. The kid misses and it goes into the corner. I chase it down, but he’s right on my heels.
His stick battles mine, trying to gain possession of the puck. “Nice goal, princess. Daddy buy you those hands too?”
“Your mom seemed to like them last night.” I shove back, trying to gain position.
“Original.” He laughs, then drives the butt end of his stick into my ribs.
Pain shoots through my side. Fucker.
I turn to retaliate, but he's already gone, skating into our zone with the puck. No whistle. Ref was right fucking there and didn't call shit.
My ribs throb as I chase him, fury burning in my chest. One of their guys catches Jenkins with a late hit. No call again.
The puck is loose near the crease and Viktor covers it. And then their fucking winger chops him on the calf.
No one fucking hits our goalie.
Zach wraps his arm around the winger’s throat from behind, yanking him backward and slamming him to the ice.
That’s all it takes.
Gloves are dropped, fists swinging. BC’s captain is closest to me, his helmet already off. I grab him, and my fist connects with his jaw, snapping his head back. He swings wildly, catching me in the helmet and knocking it sideways.
Bet his hand fucking hurts.
I throw a jab and it connects with his nose, blood oozing instantly.
Someone’s pulling on my jersey and I spin around, ready to hit someone else. But it’s one of the linesmen who continues to pull me away from the brawl.
Meanwhile, Jenkins has someone in a headlock, pounding his face. Zach’s feeding the winger punch afterpunch. And fuck . . . Ryan’s got two BC players—one in each hand—dragging them back like they're fucking children. Each guy must be at least two hundred pounds each, but he's yanking them away from the pile like it's nothing.
Just pure, raw strength on display.
My dick gets rock hard in my cup.
He tosses one guy toward their bench, then shoves the other in the opposite direction.
“Holy shit,” someone breathes beside me.
My husband skates back to our bench as if he didn't just manhandle two grown men simultaneously.
My husband.
Fuck.
I shake my head and turn back to the fight. But it’s over, and everyone’s returning to their bench to wait for the refs to sort out the penalties.
Ends up being matching minors all around.
The game’s coming to the final minutes. BC puts one past Viktor. Hate to say it, but it was a perfect snipe.
Coach puts my line back out, hoping to pad the lead. Don’t want to go into overtime. And definitely don’t want to lose again.
Jenkins dumps the puck into the offensive zone, and I chase it down. One of BC’s defensemen pins me against the boards.
“So, forty-three finally grew a pair of balls. Or you lending him yours?”
