I was not expecting him to actually swing at me so I didn’t duck. His fist contacted my cheekbone, and motherfucker, that hurt. I staggered and crouched, arms up in case he came at me again, but my head rang and the pain blurred my vision.
Of course, Evan didn’t give him the chance at a second shot, putting his body between me and them.
It wasn’t even a scuffle. The guy’s brother grabbed his arm and yanked him back with a hiss. “Bro, what the actual fuck?”
Andre squeaked and disappeared into the dark like the fucker he was, but I wasn’t going to complain about one less person standing over me.
Evan roared at them, his own hands clenched tight, but my guy was smarter than to throw back. He stood there, being menacing and loud, while the twins stumbled over their own feet as they backed away from us. The one who had hit me cradled his hand.
When they were out of reach, Evan spun to me, dropping down to cup my face. “Baby. Are you okay?”
“Fucking no.” I batted his hand away from my left cheek, which had begun to throb.
“Did he break you?” He hovered, trying to get his hands on me and simultaneously not touch me. The resultant arm-waving made me dizzy.
“Fucking no, he did not. Hope he broke his goddamn hand, though.”
The twins were shouting now, and when we looked over, it was to see them screaming at each other. It was their commotion that drew people out of the rink to find out what was going on.
Channing and Robbie were the first ones out, quickly taking in the scene, and coming over to me where I was sitting on my ass on the cold pavement.
“What happened?” Robbie breathed, lifting my face with a finger under my chin. “Shit. Who?—?
“Jason Darren,” Evan spat. He was wringing his hands now, his face screwed up with anger, but his gaze on me was anxious.
He was losing his shit and I was in too much pain in that moment to help him.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Channing muttered under his breath. “You.” He tapped Robbie’s shoulder. “Get him inside and sit him down on a fucking chair, please.” He pointed at me as he spoke to Robbie, then turned his attention to my boyfriend. “Evan, go to the bar and ask for ice and a clean cloth, yes? Can you do that?”
Relieved at having a clear directive, Evan nodded and dashed off.
“Thank you,” I whispered to him, not wanting to move my face too much.
Channing nodded. “I’ll be in shortly to check on you.”
“I’ll be fi?—”
He pursed his lips and squinted.
“Sure,” I said instead. “Thanks.” And I let Robbie take my elbow and lead me back into the building.
Thankfully, Robbie didn’t ask me to explain what happened as we made our way to the bar and he sat me in a corner, out of the more brightly lit areas.
Evan was there instantly, kneeling between my legs and so gently touching the cloth-wrapped ice to the side of my face. “Sorry I ran off like that,” he said quietly. “I?—”
“No, baby, you’re good,” I assured him, taking over placement of the ice. “Thanks for this.” The cold was a welcome distraction from the pain, and I touched Evan’s cheek. “Thanks for stepping up like that.”
“Probably could have taken him,” he muttered.
I chuckled, then winced. “Good you didn’t. Let it be their fuck up.”
“They should get ejected from the tournament,” Robbie fumed.
“Who?” Shaw asked, coming over. “Shit, dude. What the hell?”
Darby eased Shaw, then Evan, out of his way and crouched in front of me. “Can I take a look?” he asked.
I moved the ice and he turned my head by my chin to angle my face toward the light. “I’m going to gently touch your cheek. I need to confirm there’s nothing broken. It will probably hurt.”
