Yeah, definitely not worried about telling that man that I’m fucking his daughter and plan on bonding her anytime soon.
I scrub my face.
“I’m sorry, guys,” Max Connery says, and I glare over at him.
“It’s not your fault, man. There’s no reason he should have had that break away when we were a player up. It was a fuckup,” our captain, Eli Beckford, says.
Deep down, I know it was a good shot, that it’s not Connery’s fault. But my stupid ego and grudge just won’t give it up. Maybe it’s because Sloane brought him up or because my nose aches. But I lose it.
“Really? We just get our asses chewed out, come off another loss, and you’re just patting him on the back and telling him it’s all good?” I say, and Eli sighs.
“Yeah, Nilsen. That’s what I’m doing.”
“We’ve been playing like shit lately, and our goalie not stepping it up is only making things worse.”
Max steps up, his goalie gear still on except his helmet.
I can’t believe I found him attractive once.
“You want me to fuck up your nose again?” Max says, shoving at my chest, which I quickly shove back.
“Yeah, I just might. Let’s fucking go.”
He rears back and punches me in the face, which I quickly reciprocate.
Now my nose and lip aches, and I’m about to hit him again when Martel grabs me and Beckford grabs Connery.
“Stop it,” Martel says, gripping me tightly.
“I’m good. Let go of me.”
He tightens his arms around me before letting go, and Beckford does the same with Connery.
“It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re still deep in the season. You don’t have a contract with the team, and you won’t,” I sneer.
“Go to the fucking hotel. Now,” Beckford demands.
I shuck off my gear as quickly as possible and shove all my shit in my bag before getting dressed.
As soon as I’m back at the hotel, I video call Sloane, needing to calm myself down.
Once her pretty face is on my screen, it’s like I can think straight again. What the fuck is happening to me? I know I can be petty and spiteful, but things with Connery are out of hand, and I don’t know why.
Sloane gasps. “I didn’t realize he hit your lip too,” she says, concerned, and I shake my head.
“I’m fine. How are you feeling?”
“I feel better. I’m more worried about you. Did my dad chew you guys out after the game?” she asks with a wince.
“Yeah, it wasn’t great.”
There’s a long pause as she pans the screen over to Ethan. I’m actually glad he stays local and can be there when I’m not.
“Rough game. Hopefully, more luck in Edmonton.”
“Yeah, I sure as fuck hope so,” I say, lying back in the bed, exhaustion deep in my bones.
“Bram, baby, are you okay?” Sloane says, and I nod.
