Page 92 of The Love You Win

A guy behind us lets out a low whistle. Our new red-faced friend sputters and huffs out annoyed sounds for a minute, but obviously can’t think of anything intelligent to say in response. Mira gives him her back and waves down a vendor selling cotton candy.

We’re halfway through the third and final period with nine minutes and forty seconds left on the clock, and both teams seem like they’re out for blood. My jaw hurts from clenching it so hard. I still haven’t recovered from watching one of the Renegades slam into Maddox directly in front of us. If the people in the seats surrounding Mira and me hadn’t realized by that point that I’m Maddox’s girlfriend, they sure did after that.

Everyone groans when one of our rookies gets sent to the sin bin for cross-checking.

“They’re getting frustrated. It’s making them reckless,” Mira mutters, more to herself than me. The announcer informs the arena that Ryder Hanson has been given a two-minute penalty. “This isn’t good.”

It’s the opening the Renegades need. With the Rogues down a player during the penalty kill, Boston gets around our d-men, and for the first time in the game, Bash lets a puck slip by him.

“Dammit,” I hiss. Poor Sebastian looks pissed at himself, but the Rogues don’t give up. The line changes, and Maddox, Griffin, and Logan hop back onto the ice. With clasped hands, I pray to the hockey gods, the ancient Greek gods, hell, I even channel Jess and pray to Chris Hemsworth that the guys can turn this around and take the lead.

Seven minutes left.

Maddox gets control of the puck and speeds down the ice. He’s glorious and fierce, and I can’t help it. I leap to my feet and shout, “Go, babe, go!” He’s quickly surrounded and slaps the puck hard toward the Renegades’ net, but their goalie blocks it.

“You know,” our pink-cheeked neighbor slurs loudly, his fifth beer of the night in hand, “Graves has been on fire so far this preseason.” The man glares at me. “You his girlfriend or his bad-luck-charm? Because one game with you in the seats, and he’s playing like a junior-leaguer.”

Heat rushes up my chest and cheeks as people turn to stare at me. This is my nightmare.

“Listen, you sack of shit, blaming an off night on a player’s significant other is bullshit, and you know it.” Mira stands, her petite frame seeming to puff up with indignation. “So shut your fucking mouth, or I’ll shut it for you.”

“Mira,” I tug on the back of her jersey. Everyone around us stares. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” she says. “Fuck this guy.”

“Well, I mean, yeah, he’s an asshole. But he’s not worth it.”

“What did you say?” The drunk fan rises to his feet and squares off with Mira, but his angry gaze is on me. “You think just because you’re letting a hockey player fuck you like some common whore that makes you special?”

I want to crawl under my seat and disappear.

“You’re just another slutty puck bunny distracting the team in search of your fifteen minutes.” He’s shouting now, spittle hitting Mira in the face. I’m actively trying to hold her back, because her fists are clenched, and I just know she’s about to haul off and hit the guy. Which he totally deserves. But she’ll be the one who ends up arrested for it.

A couple of drunk guys two rows back decide to pile on and make their opinions known. They shout at Mira and me to go home, call me names, and blame the fact that the Rogues are losing on our presence. I shouldn’t care what any of them have to say. They’re drunk, belligerent, and ignorant. But a tear still rolls down my cheek.

I’m so lost in my embarrassment, I don’t notice Maddox skate up to the glass until he pounds on it. When I lift my watery eyes to his face, he takes one look at the tear dripping from my jaw, then zeroes in on the jerk next to Mira.

“What the fuck did you say to my girl?” he shouts through the glass. The jerk loses some of his bravado when faced with the murderous attention of Maddox Graves. When the guy doesn’t speak, Maddox pounds on the glass. “I’ll ask you again, dickface. Why is my girl crying?”

The rest of the Rogues’ players notice the commotion, and the Renegades are just as intrigued. Play grinds to a halt as Griffin and Logan skate over to us. The guys who were just shouting at Mira and me and acting like big, tough cavemen fall silent.

“What did he say to you, baby?” Maddox shouts through the glass. When I shake my head, unwilling to repeat any of it, he turns his attention to his sister. “Mi-Mi, what the fuck is going on?”

Mira wraps her arm around my shoulder. “These asshats are calling Isla names and blaming her for the score.”

“Bitch,” the drunk guy mutters.

“The fuck did you just call my sister?” Maddox pounds the side of his fist against the glass. “You have a death wish?”

The arena is breaking into chaos. Play has completely stopped, and the refs skate over to figure out what’s going on. Griffin and Logan try to get Maddox away from the rink shield, but he shoves them away and points to the man beside Mira.

“Say another word to my girlfriend or my sister and I’ll lay you out, asshole.”

This time, the refs hear his threat. Dragging him away from the glass, they slap him with a misconduct penalty.

“What does that mean?” I whisper to Mira.

She shakes her head, but her expression is proud. She may not be happy about the penalty, but she clearly supports Maddox’s actions. “It means he’s out for the rest of the game. Normally it’s a ten-minute penalty, but there are only six minutes left.”

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