My elbow comes up, catching him in the jaw. He staggers back, and I drop my gloves, grabbing his jersey before he can recover. My fist connects with his face once, twice, three times before he goes down.
“Run your fucking mouth about my husband again, you won’t get back up.”
He stares, then laughs, blood covering his teeth. “Husband? The Titans really are a bunch of faeries.”
I growl and kick him without thinking.
The ref’s whistle blares over and over, then I'm getting pushed toward the box. Five for fighting.
Fuck.
I put my team on a penalty kill for the last two minutes of play.
Stupid fucking move.
I slam the penalty box door, then drop onto the bench. BC goes on the power play, setting up in our zone. They're moving the puck well, but Zach’s being aggressive on the kill. And Ryan reads the play perfectly.
He steps into the passing lane, intercepts the puck, and takes off. He's flying. One BC player tries to catch him but can’t. Ryan crosses the blue line, shifts to his backhand, then roofs it over the goalie's shoulder.
Shorthanded goal. 3-1 Titans.
I'm on my feet, banging on the glass. “That's how you fucking play!”
The pride in my chest is overwhelming. Bigger than anything I've ever felt scoring myself.
Ryan skates past the penalty box on his way to the bench. Our eyes meet and the corner of his mouth lifts into a small smile.
The same players stay out for the final minute. My gaze bounces between the game and the clock. “Come on, come on, come on.”
The buzzer sounds.
We won.
I step out of the penalty box and skate to Ryan, patting his helmet. “Great fucking play, baby.”
Shit.
Didn’t mean to let that last word slip.
His whole face lights up, cheeks flushing. “Thanks.”
The locker room is chaotic. First win of the season, and we earned it. Guys are shouting, music is blasting from someone's Bluetooth speaker.
I drop onto the bench, smiling wide. Partly because we won. Partly because of the way everyone’s cheering for Ryan.
Just like the championship last season, he manages to step up when we need him most. And fuck, after what I saw today, he could rival Petrov.
I grab my phone from the cubby and hit the power button. The screen lights up, showing a text message.
From my mother.
The smile falls from my face as I read it, my fingers tightening around the case.
Mother: You didn't want to listen, now you'll pay the price.
Chapter 22
Ryan
