“Oh shit,” I gasp as I trip over someone’s foot and go flying forward.
I close my eyes, not wanting to see the concrete I’m about to faceplant. But before that happens, hands grab my upper arms, and I’m righted on my feet.
“Are you okay?” Sienna asks, her eyes scanning my face as if she’s looking for visible injuries.
“Never been better,” I deadpan as I brush myself down and take my seat.
“So? How did it go?”
“Oh my god,”I shriek, jumping in my seat as Everett slams a player into the boards.
I’ve watched him play a few times now, and I know he plays rough, but fuck.
Tonight is on another level.
Anyone would think he had his world turned upside down before stepping out onto the ice.
Regret twists up my insides.
We should have waited.
The score is currently two-two. We’re a couple of minutes into the third period, and emotions are running high down there. None of them want it to go into overtime; they’re desperate to wrap this game up and claim the title, but it’s not that easy.
Around me, fans scream and shout so loudly that my ears are ringing. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be hearing it for days to come. And it only gets louder as another fight threatens.
Everett has already spent his fair share of time in the penalty box tonight, but he doesn’t seem worried about going back in there.
Thankfully, the Vipers’ captain and a couple other teammates pull Everett off the guy before he can start throwing punches. Ferguson, our captain, has a word with his wild defenseman before tapping his helmet and sending him toward the bench for a shift change.
“I can’t cope with this,” Sienna cries as they line up for another face-off. “I’ve never felt tension like it.”
She is so dialed into the game. She’s been screaming abuse at the referees and players from the other team. I’ve never seen this side of her before, but I think I kind of like it.
“It’s pretty intense,” I mutter, my eyes on Everett as he squirts water into his mouth and talks to his teammates. But as he does, I can’t help but notice that his eyes are on the fans. Searching. Is he…is he looking for me?
I shake the stupid thought from my head. Of course he’s not. He’d probably happily never see me again.
Before I know it, he’s jumping back over the boards and getting back into position with Calvin Keller, his defensive partner, right beside him.
My heart is in my throat as I watch the next play. We win the puck drop, and it’s all looking good until it gets stolen by one of the opposing team’s players, and suddenly, everything switches.
There’s a roar of irritation as one of our players trips over one of the opponent’s sticks. But despite the fans’ calls for a penalty, the refs keep the play going.
“Hey ref, you should check your voicemail, I think you missed a few calls,” Sienna screams.
A laugh bursts out of me, but while I’m focused on her, I miss what happens on the ice. Or at least, I do until a collective gasp sucks all the air from the arena.
When I look back, Everett has the player who’s been taunting him all game by his jersey, his helmet is already on the ice, and Everett’s arm is flying toward his face.
“Oh God,” I whimper, lifting my hands to my face. I don’t want to watch, but also, I can’t not, so I part my fingers to see. “What is he doing?” I mutter to myself.
Players descend on them, the refs blowing their whistles like it’s going out of fashion. Maybe they aren’t as blind as Sienna’s slurs would suggest.
But despite the efforts to pull him away, Everett isn’t giving up. Blood drips onto the ice as he keeps hitting this guy.
Eventually, the guys manage to rip him away, but it’s too late. The damage has already been done.
Tears burn my eyes, and regret sits heavily on my shoulders as he’s ejected from the game.
