Page 41 of Pucking Revenge

I turn around and heave a sigh of relief when I catch sight of Sara. When she skitters to a stop in front of me, I haul her to my chest and rock her back and forth. “You okay?”

She sighs against me, then tips her head back. “No beating up coaches, thirteen. I need you to keep your job so I can keep mine.”

I heave a relieved breath at the annoyed frown on her face. It means she’s not overly upset about my uncle’s asshole remark. With a kiss to her forehead, I tuck her into my side, then lead her down the underground hallway that’ll take us back to the arena.

“Yeah, you’re going to have to start talking,” War says, keeping pace with us.

“Brooks was defending my honor,” Sara replies, leaning forward to look at War.

I shake my head and hold her tight. She doesn’t take the blame for this. When men make bad decisions, they’re to blame. Not the women who stand beside them.

“Just working through some shit. It will be fine.”

War eyes me, squinting like he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t push as we continue on toward the player’s garage.

“See you back at the apartment?” I ask as we approach our vehicles.

War grasps my hand and pulls me in for a hug and a clap on the back. Then he leans down and kisses Sara’s cheek. “Nah, I’m heading out for a bit.”

“Don’t forget we have to be at the shelter first thing tomorrow,” Sara reminds him.

War runs his hands through his dark hair. Women love his bad boy persona—I happen to know it’s all bullshit. He’s one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met, but he plays it up with the tattoos that peek out from the collar of his suit and both sleeves. His ice-blue eyes scream mischievous devil, and his chiseled jaw has been broken in more than one fight.

“Eh, Ava will assume I’m going to be late anyway. Why disappoint her? Admit it, she told me to be there half an hour before the rest of the team, didn’t she?”

I laugh and hit him with a light punch to the gut. “Be nice to her. She’s a good girl.”

Tyler scoffs. “Yeah. If you want to call the devil an angel, be my guest.” With a wave of his hand, he turns toward his car. “See you in the morning, lovebirds.”

I open the door for Sara, but instead of climbing in, she turns to face me full on. “What’s with him and Ava? She’s so nice.”

Ava heads up VIP relations and charity work for the team. She’s one of only a handful of females who live in our building, so she and Sara are close.

“All I know is that they don’t get along.” I rest a hand on the small of her back and guide her up into the truck. “He didn’t show up to an event she set up for us last year, and she was not happy.”

Once Sara is settled and is pulling her seat belt across her torso, I shut her door and round the back of the truck. As I go, I pull in a few deep breaths. The adrenaline rush that’s kept me going for the last few hours is fading fast, and the weight of today’s events is beginning to hit me.

I almost punched my coach today. Twice. It’s true that he can’t fire me, but it’s not okay for me to be getting into fistfights with the man who leads our team. He needs to be gone. Quick. It’s the only option.

“Why didn’t Tyler show up at the event? He was obligated to be there. Charity events are written into your contracts. I can understand Ava’s anger if he blew it off. She works hard to set them up for you guys and make sure they work with your travel schedule.” Sara goes on about the issue facing War and Ava, completely unaware that I’m having a mini panic attack beside her.

“We need to take things up a notch,” I blurt, my heart racing again and my palms sweating. “I can’t keep getting into fights with him. It’s not good for the team.”

Sara studies me, her expression full of concern. “You don’t have to defend me, Brooks. I’ve done nothing wrong, and I’m a big girl. I can handle his little slights.”

As I exit the parking ramp, my grip on the steering wheel tightens, along with every muscle in my body. I’m so wound up, I’m about ready to snap. “No one, I don’t care who they are, can speak like that to you.”

“You’re taking this whole boyfriend thing very seriously.” Sara lets out a breathy laugh. “Don’t mess with my girl.” Her tone is teasing, and she puffs out her chest and swings her arms in front of her in what I guess she thinks is a mockingly manly way.

“You’re my friend. My best friend. My feelings on the matter have nothing to do with a pissing match. This is about making sure you’re being treated with respect.”

Does she not get that? Does she really think my anger has more to do with some macho man thing than her happiness and well-being? Fuck that.

“I’ve gotten into exactly zero fights in my life.” I face her as we come to a light to emphasize my point. “Zero. I’m not a hothead who gets up in arms when someone says shit to me.”

She blinks a few times, like she’s letting my explanation sink in, and nods. “Okay.”

With her lip caught between her teeth, she fiddles with the hem of her jersey for a quiet moment. When the light turns green, I continue toward home.

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