The fans are infuriated as he rips his helmet off and throws it at the ground the second he’s off the ice.
A woman rushes toward him—his sister, I’d guess—but he doesn’t so much as look up at her as he storms down the tunnel and out of sight.
The player he was hitting is escorted off the ice for medical attention before they all line up for another face-off. There’s notime to waste. The clock is ticking toward the end of regulation time, making overtime seem even more likely.
I can’t bear it. There’s a huge part of me that wants to leave, too. But just as I consider it, Sienna reaches for my hand and squeezes tight as the Vipers manage to find the back of the net, giving them the lead they’ve been searching for.
While I’m buzzed for everyone, it feels like an empty victory for me. I don’t know at what point I only started caring about this game when the man who’s just been ejected is a part of it, but it’s happened.
I don’t know Everett as a person. The night we met, he was Everett the player, the ladies’ man, the showman. He was arrogant and obnoxious and thought he was God’s gift to women. I don’t have a clue who the man is beneath all of that. Sure, maybe he’s just as much of a jerk, but maybe he’s not. What I do know is that whoever Everett Donnelly is, he’s down there in the dressing room, hurting and probably alone.
The thought makes my eyes burn with emotion.
“Are you okay?” Sienna shouts.
I nod, unable to speak for fear of bursting into tears.
There might be many, many things I don’t know right now, but one thing I’m certain of is that what just happened down there was my fault.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” I finally force out before tugging my hand from hers and making my way down the row of seats.
I can’t be here. I can’t watch the rest of this game like everything is okay. I just can’t.
“Bea, wait,” Sienna cries.
“Stay,” I shout over my shoulder. “Watch the end. I’ll get an Uber and?—”
“No, I’m not letting you go alone,” she says, racing behind me.
I keep going so we’re not blocking more of the view than necessary.
Once we’re in the aisle, I turn to face her.
“I need you to stay. I’ve already ruined enough lives tonight. Please, stay and watch the end. I’ll never forgive myself if you miss them win.”
Sienna is torn, but I know without a doubt that she’d forget all about the game to be with me.
“I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll message when I get home.”
She stands there with a wretched expression on her face as I begin racing down the stairs, tears already dripping from my lashes as I make my escape.
The second I burst outside, I suck in deep lungfuls of air as I try to see through my tears to order a rideshare.
Seeing as ninety percent of the city is either in the arena behind me or in bars or at home watching the game, I secure a car in less than a minute, and sooner than I thought possible, I’m in the back, and we’re zooming toward my apartment.
Silent tears continue to cascade down my cheeks, and one look in the rearview mirror ensures my driver doesn’t say a word.
He has the game on the radio, and I listen with my eyes closed, wondering if that is how Everett is now finishing the game.
No sooner have I walked through my front door than I begin stripping off. By the time I get to my bathroom, I’ve left a trail of discarded clothing in my wake. I turn the shower on and then step under the spray in the hope it’ll help wash my regrets and guilt down the drain.
I soon discover that it does neither as I crumble to the floor, wrap my arms around my legs, and sob.
Time continues to tick by, and at some point, I run out of hot water. But I don’t have the energy to get up and turn it off.
I figure that I deserve it. I might have prevented the LA Vipers from winning the Stanley Cup.
I hiccup loudly, pain making my limbs heavy.
