Page 19 of Heart of a Defender

PENALTY

***

Madison

It’s game night, and the arena is packed. There’s an electric buzz in the air, a palpable excitement that makes my heart race. But there’s also a knot of anxiety unraveling in the pit of my stomach. It’s the first game of the season, and the Saints are facing off with the Predators, their biggest rival and my ex’s team. I purposely didn’t tell Zach my ex was none other than Mark Anderson, ego-maniac center for the Predators. That knowledge is a distraction Zach doesn’t need on opening night.

I sit close to the rink wearing a Saints jersey with Zach’s name and number nine across the back. I place my notebook in my lap with a shaky hand. My mind is scattered with dark memories of the past. I scan the ice for Mark’s number as worry works its way into every inch of my body. When my editor gave me this assignment, I had no intention of attending a game, especially not one with the Predators playing. But my desire to cheer Zach on is greater than the anxiety of being in the same arena with Mark causes me.

As the Saints warm up, I spot Zach across the ice. He catches my eye and gives me a small, reassuring smile. I turn in my seat and flash the back of my jersey, showing him my full support. His grin widens and it helps ease the tension between my shoulder blades, but only a little. I take a deep breath and center my attention on the game rather than the one player I dread seeing.

As I settle back into my seat, a familiar, unwelcome voice calls to me from the ice.

“Well, if it isn’t Madison Collins, little miss goody two shoes.” I whip around and spot the man who nearly broke me, smirking as he leans against a barrier. “Still hanging around rinks trying to get noticed? Kinda pathetic, don’t you think?”

A lump forms in my throat, and the knot in my stomach weighs me down like cement blocks. The echo of blades cutting through ice rings in my ears, and I feel like I’m drowning. My eyes flit to Zach, needing a bit of his strength to prop me up.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” I manage a low, cool tone while the rest of my body goes into fight or flight mode. “Still the same insecure jock trying to boost your ego by putting others down?”

Mark’s smirk fades, replaced by a brutal, more condescending look.

“Got your eye on something you like?” He glances over his shoulder, following the direction of my earlier gaze. “There’s only one thing girls like you are good for–sucking cock and doing what you’re told. Figured you’d have learned your lesson by now.”

“Trust me, I learned my lesson and know my worth.” I clench my fists, anger and old insecurities bubbling to the surface. I glance at Zach again. He glides to a stop several feet behind Mark, watching us closely with a mixture of anger and concern wrinkling across his brow. “I don’t have time for your mind games. I’m working.”

“You think you’ve moved on, that you’re better than me?” Mark seethes. “You’ll always be the same, Madison. Always looking for validation from guys like me.”

Zach’s jaw tightens. When our eyes meet, an unspoken question lies there. I nod slightly, trying to convey to him that I’m fine. He has bigger things to worry about tonight than me. A whistle blows, alerting the players to take their position on the ice. Zach gives me one last reassuring nod before heading to the center of the ice.

“You don’t get to define me anymore.” I spit the words out at Mark as my body trembles.

“We’ll see about that,” he chuckles with a mocking smile playing on his lips.

The weight of our exchange presses down on me. I take a deep breath, steadying myself as I sit, feeling exposed and shaken. This is why I vowed to never set foot in a hockey arena again. To never date another athlete again. To never fall in love with a star hockey player. I can’t let Mark get to me. I’m stronger than I was before. I can’t become a distraction for Zach. Not tonight.

The buzzer sounds, signaling the start of the game. I force myself to focus on what’s important–Zach. My heart pounds as the teams line up for the face-off. Mark takes his position opposite Zach, their eyes locking in silent challenge.

As the puck drops and the game begins, I watch with a mix of fear and hope. This isn’t just a game anymore. It’s a battle–one that’s more than just winning or losing. This time, it’s about proving that the past doesn’t define us and that we can rise above our fears.

Zach charges forward, his focus unbreakable. This battle isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

***

Zach

Fire burns in my chest, fueled by anger at overhearing Madison’s exchange with the Predator’s center. Mark Anderson’s reputation precedes him. He’s a womanizer and dirty player who pushes the limits. There isn’t a doubt in my mind who or what he is–a pompous ass and the jerk who did a number on Madison. I can’t let his bad behavior slide. Madison deserves more than that.

The puck drops as I lock eyes with Mark. I charge forward, my determination clear. The game is fast and brutal, but all I want to do is punish Mark for treating Madison with disrespect.

We battle for the puck, our sticks clashing, and our bodies colliding with a force that ricochets in my head. The crowd roars, but it’s all background noise, my focus narrowed on one target, one fight.

Mark smirks at me, a silent taunt that fuels my anger. We circle each other, the puck bouncing between our sticks. I rush him, sending us slamming into the boards with the puck trapped between us.

“You think you’re tough?” He sneers, taunting me.

“Tougher than you.” I spit back, shoving him off me as I fight to regain control of the puck.

The play moves towards the Saints’ goal, and I’m on Mark, dogging his every move. The game escalates, frustration building in his eyes, but I’m not backing down. It’s time he learned a lesson.

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