She’s curledinto my side, waiting. Her hand resting on my chest. I don’t know where to start. Don’t know how to explain what I saw on the ice.
“It was bad,” I finally say.
“How bad?”
I take a breath, trying to organize the chaos of it in my head. “The first time, I didn’t hear what the guy said. I was too far away. But I saw Luca’s reaction. Saw him freeze up.” I touch the bandage over my eye absently. “We all did. Dex even asked if he was okay. Luca just nodded and told us to focus on the game.”
“But it wasn’t okay.”
“No. It wasn’t.” I can still see Luca’s face. The way his expression had gone cold and empty. “The second time, I was closer. Right there in front of the net. The guy came in for a rebound and said something to Luca while the puck was loose.”
“What did he say?”
“I didn’t hear the whole thing. Something about—” I pause because even repeating it feels wrong. “Something about having Luca’s sister. About what he’d do to her.”
Juliette goes very still against me.
“Luca dropped everything. Gloves, stick, mask. Just went after him.”
“I saw that part.”
“You didn’t see how brutal it was. How—” I have to pause. Have to push away the image of Luca on top of that player with his blocker still on, fists flying. “He wasn’t trying to fight him. He was trying to kill him.”
Her breath catches.
“I was closest so I tried to pull him off. That’s when I caught the elbow.” My ribs ache where Dex accidentally kneed me trying to help. “It took six of us to get him off. Six. And even then he was still fighting, still trying to get back to him. Still screaming.”
“What was he saying?”
“I don’t know. The Italian was too fast. But I’ve never heard him sound like that.”
“And the other player?”
“His face was—” My stomach turns. “There was so much blood. His nose definitely broken. Maybe his orbital bone too.”
“Jesus.”
“Security came. Took Luca straight to the locker room. I could still hear him yelling from the ice.” I close my eyes. Can still hear it. The rage. “By the time we got to the intermission, he was gone.”
We lie in silence for a moment. Her hand moves in slow circles on my chest, grounding me.
“What happens now?” she asks quietly.
“Nothing good.” I’ve been dreading this part. “The league’s already investigating. They’ll review the footage, interview everyone. The other team is screaming for blood.”
“Will he get charged?”
“I don’t know.” The uncertainty sits heavy on my chest. “It was on camera. In front of twenty thousand people. They have all the evidence they need.”
“But it was during a game. There are fights all thetime?—”
“Not like this. Fights are part of hockey. This was—” I search for the word. “This was assault. That’s how the league’s going to see it.”
“He could go to jail?”
“Maybe. Probably not. But fines? Suspension?” I exhale slowly. “That’s guaranteed. I’m guessing he’s suspended for the rest of the playoffs. Maybe into next season.”
“Which means?—”
