“I’m fine.” I pat him on the shoulder and skate to the bench, where I pick up my water bottle, giving it a good squirt into my mouth.
The teams are rounded up, and we get ready for the national anthem. We all line up, and as we parade through the beginning ceremonies, I keep my mind mentally set on one thing and one thing only—making sure Gasper has one hell of a shitty game.
I’m fired up.
I’m ready to take him out.
And nothing, and I mean nothing is going to stop me.
Once the national anthem is over, we all skate into our positions. The refs are huddled together as Gasper skates up to me. That fucking grin on his face makes me want to shove my elbow into his teeth.
“So, you and Penny, huh?” he asks, and I know what he’s trying to do. He’s trying to goad me like he always does.
I don’t answer him, but instead, I grip my stick tighter and get into position, ready for the puck to drop. Taking the hint that we’re not here to have tea and gab, he does the same. He presses his shoulder against mine and slaps his stick on the ice.
“I’m surprised Pacey even let you near her.” He’s just loud enough for me to hear him over the roar of the crowd and the announcers. “I thought I was the only hockey player he trusted around her.”
My teeth grind together as my hands grip my stick so tightly I’m afraid I might snap it in half before the game even starts.
“Seems as though things have changed, though. At least what I gathered. You looked protective. You like her, Hornsby?”
I keep my mouth shut and stare at the ice, willing the refs to hurry the fuck up so I can do some damage . . . undetected.
“Don’t want to talk about it? I get it,” he says, his voice dark . . . sinister. “Hard to talk about Penny Lawes without wanting to talk about all of her attributes.”
Don’t do something stupid. Keep it together. He’s poking you for a reason, to get you to react, to get you to hurt the team and make this win an easy one for him.
“Fucking great tits, right?”
And . . .
I explode.
You can’t talk about my goddamn Penny like that and get away with it.
I turn on him so fast that he’s not expecting it. I drop my stick, and I clock him right in the helmet before shucking my gloves and helmet and barreling into him, bringing him down to the ground where I straddle his body.
But he’s quick and well-trained, and he rolls me over and blasts me in the face with a punch before I roll him over and swing, clocking him in the nose. That’s as far as we go before we’re pulled away from each other by our teammates.
“What the fuck?” Posey says, holding me by the arms while Pacey stands between Gasper and me. His eyes pierce me.
“He’s saying shit about your sister,” I say, spitting out blood before I’m taken to the bench where I know I’ll be serving a ten-minute misconduct penalty.
“The game hasn’t even started, you fuckhead,” Taters says, coming up to me as well. “You’re giving us a disadvantage.”
“He was saying shit about Penny.”
“To get under your skin.” Taters tosses my helmet at me, which I catch. “Jesus fuck. We did not need that right now.”
“I’m not going to let him—”
All hell breaks out on the ice again, but this time, it’s Pacey who’s in the mix of it all, pulling Gasper’s jersey over his head while throwing uppercuts. I hop off the bench, scale the boards, and then skate out to the ice along with our teammates as we get into a five-minute brawl with the Polar Freeze.
Needless to say . . . we lose the game.
But the fans were entertained.
* * *
