“Oh shit.”
Those are the last words I hear before I return the punch to him. Noise fills my ears as the two of us throw fists, trying to connect with anything we can find purchase on.
“You’re an asshole,” I grit out as I try to push Graham to the ice.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a dick about playing.”
Graham’s fist glances off my jaw and catches someone else before I’m being hauled off him.
A bruise is blooming on his cheek, and there’s a small cut slicing his eyebrow. His dark brown eyes are filled with nothing but hate right now.
No doubt the same as mine.
I’m seething. If fire were coming out of my ears, I wouldn’t be surprised.
Who does this guy think he is? It’s his, what, third season? It’s not like he plays for the best team in the league.
Hell, it’s not likeIplay for the best team in the league anymore either, something I still haven’t had time to get used to.
It fucking sucks.
“What the hell is wrong with you two? You’re teammates. You shouldn’t be going after one another.”
“He started?—”
“No,” Marcus interrupts. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care what shit is going on between the two of you, but you need to work it out.”
If possible, Graham looks even more pissed than I feel. It makes me want to punch him in the face.
Again.
But I can’t. Not if I want to keep my position on this team.
Coach Andrews skates out to where the group of us are. His face is unreadable. Fuck. That is not a good thing.
“Coach. Sorry. Didn’t mean to steal your thunder, but I couldn’t take these guys being idiots anymore,” Marcus tells him.
Andrews throws up his hands. “You took care of it about the same as I would. I appreciate your leadership skills.”
Marcus nods. “Trying to do what I can, Coach.”
“Appreciate it.” Coach blows his whistle. “Suicides. Everyone. I’ll let you know when you’re done.”
A collective groan echoes around the empty arena.
Fuck me.
I’m really making a great impression on my new team if this is what I bring down upon them. The worst drill in hockey—skating from one end of the rink to the blue line and back before going to center ice, then back, followed by the opposite blue line, then back again before doing it over the length of the entire ice.
I make sure to line up as far away from Graham as possible. Based on the pain in my jaw, I know there is going to be a wicked bruise there later.
Ignoring that pain, I listen for the whistle and put all of my anger and frustration into our drills.
By the time we’re done, I have no idea how much time has passed, but I’m hurting. My thighs are burning and guys are grumbling as they head off the ice.
For more training in the weight room.
Fuck. This really is not how I wanted to start the season.
