I’m breathing hard, shaking with the urge to beat the shit out of this motherfucker for hurting Poppy.
He stares up at me, his face covered in blood, his eyes big with fear.
“Did you hear what I said?” I grit out.
“Y-Yeah.”
“Stay the fuck away from her. If you so much as look at her again, I’ll fucking kill you with my bare hands. Understand?”
When he nods, I punch him in the stomach. He screams in agony, but it just pisses me off more.
“Don’t nod your head. Say you understand me, motherfucker.”
His face twists in pain. “Okay! I understand!” he cries out.
A second later, two security guards appear.
“What’s going on?” one of them asks.
I let go of Brody’s jacket, and he falls to the ground. “This piece of shit physically assaulted my girlfriend. Get him out of here.”
The security guards pull him up and drag him away. I turn back to Poppy, who’s standing up now, staring at me with big eyes.
I walk over to her and cup her face in my hands. “He won’t hurt you again. I promise.”
I scan her face, my entire body tense and on edge.
I think back to a minute ago when I glanced up from where I was standing on the ice with my teammates, waiting for the officials to figure out the penalty they were about to call.
That’s when I saw Brody grabbing Poppy. The angry look on his face. The fear on Poppy’s face. The way she winced when she tried to pull away, and he wouldn’t let her go.
I was off the ice in seconds, scaling the stairs to make it to her. I didn’t think. I just reacted.
I needed to get to her. I needed to protect her.
She wraps her hands around my wrists and gives me a soft smile. “I’m okay, Nick.”
“You’re sure?” I ask.
She nods. “You need to get back down there. You’re in the middle of the game.”
I softly kiss her lips. When we break apart, and I start to walk off, I notice all the people looking at us. I notice all the phones are pointed at me.
I let out a heavy breath. That’s gonna be on social media. Fucking great.
As I hit the ice, everyone is staring at me. Teammates, officials, players from the opposing team.
A rush of self-awareness finally hits me. What I did was against the rules. Fighting isn’t allowed in college hockey on the ice or in the stands.
One of the officials nods at me. “You’re out of the game, son.”
Blake, the alternate captain of our team, starts to argue with the official.
“Look, I know it’s against the rules to do what he did, but he was defending his girlfriend from being attacked,” Blake says. “There should be an exception for something like this.”
The ref doesn’t budge.
Blake starts to put up a fight, but I shake my head at him.
