Page 13 of Born of Ice

“Whatever can you thank me for? For beating your ass during the last game?”

“Nah, that’s water under the bridge, plus I accepted your apology present—” Whatever else he planned to say gets cut off by the piercing sound of the whistle and the roar of the crowd that announces it’s time to start.

“Look at that, maybe there is a God out there after all and he saved me from listening to your bullshit.” Without waiting for his response, I skate away, back to our side and find Coach’s eyes already on me.

Here we fucking go…

“I swear to God, Quinn, if you get yourself in that box for painting his face red again, I’ll bench you so hard, you won’t even be able tosmellthe ice for the rest of the season.” His glare could melt the said ice around my feet. “Got it?”

I roll my eyes but nod anyway. Coach Hill is all bark but no bite—most of the time.

And yes, he did say “again.”

Zima and I have complicated history that goes way back to us being in junior league, and any time we clash on the ice it’s explosive. The last one being the worst yet where the fucker’s left eye was swollen shut. And I was suspended for two games.

Because no, that was not my first fight—or second or third—this season.

I really should have considered boxing as a kid, but the ice was calling my name. Or my heart that’s just as cold.

“I saw Zima on your ass already.” My teammate and one of the only friends I have, Severin—or Sava for short—bumps my shoulder and skates around me until I’m face to face with his ugly mug that all the girls seem to go crazy over, and he levels me with a look. “If you need him taken care of today, you let me deal with that, okay?”

Not sure how the resident bad boy—aka yours truly—and the angel of the league—aka Sava—became best friends. But here we are, five years later after Outlaws signed Severin Minaev on as a goalie, stealing him from New York and we’ve always been there for each other.

Honestly, I’m not sure anyone other than him with his angelic patience could handle being around me and my issues this much. So, thank fuck for him.

I let out a half laugh, half snort type of sound. “And you, what? Gonna leave the net to protect my pretty ass? Sorry to break it to you, mate, but all you’ve known about hockey is a lie. The defender is there for you, not the other way around.”

“I’ve seen your ass, Axe. It’s not pretty,” he deadpans.

“Liar.” I narrow my eyes at him, good-naturedly.

This is what I’ve become a professional at—redirection, cocky jokes, asshole attitude. It’s what I’m best at. And what protects me from flipping the switch that's been a bit too trigger happy this season.

“Please don’t let him get to you! Alice was not worth it.” My head whips to his so fast, I feel slightly faint.

“What do you mean?”

Sava visibly pales and I feel the hairs on my back stand. I close the distance between us, getting into his space. “What the fuck does that mean, Severin? Tell me!” I pressure him and when he just opens his mouth, his attitude changes and he relaxes.

“Nothing. Just that I was worried you were still upset over her.”

I huff with slight disgust. “Yeah, no. She was just a warm hole to fill. I’ll find another one soon enough.”

Alice was a convenient puck bunny I met a few months back. She was beautiful, available, and ready to go anytime. An outlet I needed. So, I enjoyed it up until a week ago when she wanted to take things to anew level.

Yeah, not fucking happening.

Fuck the new level.

“Oh, I’m sure you will.” He chuckles but that strain is still there. I want to press him about it, but he changes the subject too fast. “And don’t take anything Coach say too close to heart tonight, he’s got a lady to impress.” Sava waggles his eyebrows.

“A lady? Who?” I ask in disbelief, because in the twenty plus years I’ve known him, his only love has been hockey and making sure I die on this ice, but not outside it.

“There.” He points back to the bench and indeed, there is a woman sitting right behind the glass and they are chatting—as much as that Plexiglass and the crowd will allow them to. She looks to be right around the same age as him—late fifties, short and tiny but the way she holds herself is impressive.

Stern, strong, untouchable in a way. Her dark hair in a stylish pixie cut and those eyes of hers seem to see too much. “Maybe Coach is finally getting some.” I grin, and it’s as if she knew I was talking about them because those eyes I just mentioned? Yeah, they are set on me and not in a “I’m-a-fan” kind of way.

“She’s scary.” Severin shivers next to me.

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