“Hey, man, I’m leaving,” I said calmly. “It was a mistake to come here. I was just looking for—”
He didn’t slow his pace. He barreled at me and punched me square in the jaw.
My ears rang for a second. Then my eyes flashed up to Rossi. I detected a split-second of fear there on his face as I moved toward him, but it was gone just as fast as it appeared.
He went to punch me again, but this time I caught his fist and twisted his arm before shoving him away from me.
Lexi backed up to the rink but stayed silent as her eyes bounced between the two of us.
Rossi came back again, and this time I got his nose, making blood spew onto the sidewalk. His hands immediately went to his face. “You motherf—”
Sirens started wailing in the distance, making me pause. Rossi laughed as blood dripped down his face, making him look like a lunatic.
Dread spiraled through my body. I knew how this looked.
How did he always get what he wanted?
Lexi’s mouth dropped open in panic. She quickly shook her head at me, at a loss for words. Rossi stumbled toward her, throwing an arm over her shoulder. Her entire body stiffened, and I hated it. I hated him.
I wanted to jump in my truck and speed away, but I knew that would just make this a thousand times worse.
“I told you to go,” Lexi mouthed at me. Her lower lip trembled as she swatted at the tears dripping from her eyes.
“He started it,” Rossi yelled as cops came barreling toward us. “I have a restraining order against him!” He pointed at me. “He grabbed my girl, so I defended her, and then he attacked me. He’s dangerous. He needs to be kept away from us.”
Lexi stayed silent, her glassy eyes bouncing everywhere except to mine.
The cops spoke in hushed voices for a minute before one came lumbering toward me. Of course it was Spencer.
I made eye-contact with the oldest cop. “Look, I was only here to—”
Spencer grabbed me and shoved my chest against my truck before yanking my arms back to handcuff me. My shoulder cried out in pain, but I wouldn’t give him or Rossi the satisfaction of seeing me hurting.
As Spencer tightened the handcuffs, a boy’s voice yelled, “What are you doing?”
I turned to see Baker dropping his hockey bag on the pavement next to his mom’s feet. His hands went to his sweaty head. His face was still red from the game. “Stop!”
“Go back inside, Baker,” Mark said as he glared at me. “You don’t need to see this.” He turned to the cops. “McQuaid here was a role model of his,” he explained. “Not so much anymore. But you know what they always say, never meet your heroes.” He gave me a dark smirk.
“Why are you arresting him?” Baker yelled, running toward me. “Why?”
“Baker, get back inside,” Mark said harshly.
“Why?” Baker’s voice broke. “You got the wrong guy!” he yelled, looking around at every adult with desperation in his eyes, and my heart broke for him.
Spencer yanked the handcuffs on my wrists and started leading me down to the patrol car.
“You got the wrong guy!” Baker yelled again. He turned to his mom, who went rigid. “Tell them, Mom!”
Mark rolled his eyes. “Okay, that’s enough.”
“Tell them about last night.” Baker used the back of his hand to wipe the tears from his face.
When his mom didn’t say anything, his face completely broke down.
Mark forced a chuckle. “He’s just mad because I benched him. Kids these days don’t know how to handle discipline.”
“Mom!” Baker yelled again, his voice hitting a high-pitch. “Tell them how he hit you last night,” he begged. “Tell them!” Panic flashed in Baker’s eyes as Mark started toward him.
