Page 125 of Snap Shot

They storm away to opposite ends of the locker room.

“At least you can tell Skylar you're ready to have children,” I say, squinting at the tartness of the mustard packet I pull between my lips.

He snorts. “Score next period and I will.”

It's a nearly impossible feat, every play as fruitless as the last. The refs call offsides every other minute like they're getting blowjobs for it and I'm about to break my twig in half. Finally, I see a window and steal the puck—from McCrimmon, no less, which makes it that much better—and rush to the net. Their tendy hunches down but isn't prepared for this. In-stride, I rip a wrister and it flies right through the five-hole.

The Regents fans swell with a cheer and there's that adrenaline rush again. It's back with a vengeance and doesn't give a fuck if I publicly dedicate this one.

“Yours!” I bellow, cellying around the rink with my stick in the air while the horn and buzzer peal out. The crowd must think it's for them, but I lock onto the only person it's for to make sure she knows. The girls around Indi jump.

Between watching Kingston and Hourra attempt a sack race on the locker room TVs and riling Indi up over text messages makes intermission end swiftly. We somehow fend off Montreal through the last period, despite how distracted I am from thinking about how to get Fletch out of the room for the night. Wade does it for me. “Fletch, my boy! To the bars! We're gonna pull some French-Canadian le cul tonight!”

“You failed elementary French, didn't you?” Fletcher groans but agrees anyway.

The locker room is chaotic with post-game press, but I manage to get out unscathed. No one asked about Pall or the case. I don't know what Indi said or did for that to happen, but instead of sweats after a shower, I change back into my suit as a thank you. A treat from me to her.

“Gonna treat me to her, more like.” I snicker and mumble to myself while making my way to her.

My impatient steps halt abruptly to blow a sharp exhale out, attempting to reel in…everything. Wade was right. I'm so stupid for this girl. But how can I not be? I know her rules are specifically put in place to prevent any sort of attachment. But Indi has my whole heart even if she doesn't want it. Which makes the sound of her distant giggle cut like betrayal.

What the fuck?

I seethe, gritting through my teeth when my eyes drop to Sutton's hands on my girl. He's holding her fucking hand, touching that perfect stretch of her back that's only for me.

“Sutt!” I undo the suit jacket button, slowing my pace as I close in on them.

Indi's eyes stretch wide in surprise.

“Landy!” He opens his arms in greeting.

“I see you've met my lawyer.” Emphasis onmy.

I nearly miss her awkward introduction. “Indira Davé.”

“Damn.” Mack has the fucking audacity to look back at her.

I switch my glare from Indi to him. My old teammate backpedals, picking up the death threats I'm throwing his way.

I refocus to Indi. “Ms. Davé. A word?”

Too shocked to protest, Indi obeys and shuffles next to me down the scuffed tile of the corridor. My hand at its rightful position on her lower back does nothing to quell the march of my pulse, the artery on my neck threatening to burst. A headache looms from how hard my jaw clenches.

“What happened to talking?” Indi whispers through her teeth.

“Fuck talking,” I hiss back.

Nobody's here to see, but I have to be sure. We turn right into another hall, this one narrower than the main.

“Let go, Radek,” she warns, the whisper angrier and louder than the last. I'm not afraid of her. But she should be afraid of me.

I swing her around into a nook, pinning her to the white-painted cement blocks so she's facing me, palms locking into the wall on either side of her. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

“I'm sorry. What?” The look of utter confusion Indi throws back is laughable.

“You were flirting.”

“Flirting? You should know better than anyone that I don't do that.” She gives me attitude by the bob of her head. “I literally met him—”

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