But I don’t move.
Because she stopped me. Put her hands on my chest and shoved me back, hard, and demanded that I stop. And there was something in her eyes that wasn’t fear of me.
It was fear of what I’d do to him.
Fear that I’d go too far and then she’d be stuck cleaning up the mess. Dealing with the cops. Dealing with the fallout. Dealing with him after I was gone.
So I let her push me back. Watched him throw her in the backseat like a ragdoll. Watched the younger girl in the front seat stare straight ahead, pretending none of this was happening.
And now it’s quiet.
The parking lot’s empty. The game’s still going. I can hear the crowd through the walls, muffled and distant.
I flex my hand. The knuckle’s already swelling. I want it to hurt. I want to remember this.
The way he grabbed her under the armpit and twisted. The way she screamed. The way her lip was bleeding, and she wiped it with the back of her hand, casual, like it was normal. Like she’d done it a hundred times before.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out.
My agent. Three texts.
Call me.
Now Jax.
The league is watching. Do NOT make this worse.
The Theo situation. Right.
I shove the phone back without answering.
The arena door opens behind me, and Poulton, the assistant coach, says, “What the hell, Jax.”
Poulton is the only one on staff who bothers to check if I’m still breathing these days. Others think I’m a lost cause.
I don’t turn around, still staring at where the Honda SUV disappeared.
“You gonna tell me what you’re doing out here?”
“Getting air.”
He walks around to face me and looks at my hand. “That from Theo?”
“Yeah.”
He stares at me. “You’re a shit liar.”
I shrug.
He shakes his head. “You fucked yourself tonight. You know that, right? For starting shit with Theo and threatening him.”
“I know.”
“You might be looking at a suspension. Three games, minimum.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He steps closer. “That’s it? Just okay?”
