Page 138 of Defensive Zone

Chapter 25

He had to play better tonight. They’d lost their first away game in Boston two nights ago, and tonight was game four. Bugsy had been on his ass after their loss because his focus had been off and he’d taken a too-many-men-on-the-ice stupid fucking penalty; then Boston had scored on it. Bugsy hadn’t mentioned Houston, but Max knew that his safety from the expansion draft was still in question because Crow and Finn had no-movement clauses in their contracts and he didn’t.

The next few games were the most important of his career and he needed to get his shit together before it was too late, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Gabi and where they’d left things. He’d hated walking out of the living room that night, but he’d needed to. He couldn’t keep going in circles with her.

He’d left the house as soon as the sun was up the following morning so he wouldn’t have to see anyone—see her. And tonight they were flying home after the game. He kept thinking about what he’d done wrong. Why couldn’t she see that they were perfect for each other? Why was the fact that they loved each other not enough?

That stung the most.

He’d been tempted to reach out to her, but he’d left the ball in her court, and the fact that he hadn’t heard a peep from her made him apprehensive. Ava had said everything would work out, but he wasn’t sure if his sister was saying that to make him feel better or if Gabi had filled her in.

It was fucking maddening being in this position, but he had to shove that aside for the next three hours—or more if it went to overtime.

Fuck. He wanted to be home so he could look her in the eye and ask her what the hell was going on in her mind that she could doubt them because of fucking bunnies. He wanted to rip into all of them on that damn social media page, but that would accomplish nothing.

“You okay?” Nessie asked as they headed down the tunnel to the ice.

He was also fucking tired of hearing that question after he’d stupidly told a few of the guys what had happened. He knew they were trying to be supportive, but it irked him.

“I’m fine. We have a game to win, so that’s all I’m thinking about right now,” he said.

“Sure. Sure. We can talk about it on the way home tonight,” Nessie said.

Max grumbled and stepped onto the ice to start the game. The smell of the ice and the sounds of the arena soothed his soul, which was exactly what he needed right now.

“What the fuck,” Max yelled, shoving Liam halfway through the second period. The Strikers were up three to two and Liam had just drilled Westie into the boards. Max wasn’t sure if it was his head or his shoulder, but he was slow to get up and Liam just fucking stood there pretending to look concerned, but Max didn’t miss the small smirk.

The guy was a fucking menace.

“What the fuck is your problem, Liam?” Sully growled next to Max.

“You want to go, big brother?” Liam taunted.

“You are fucking asking for it,” Sully growled as the linesmen waited to see what would happen.

They usually let a lot go during the playoffs, but Liam was being a dick.

He would not fight the prick right now, and Bugsy had warned Sully about not falling for Liam’s bullshit taunts at the start of the series.

“O’Sullivan, two minutes for crosschecking,” the ref said.

“Bullshit. That was a clean hit,” Liam yelled.

Sully smirked. “In the box, asshole.”

Max moved closer to Westie, who was finally on his feet. One of the trainers had his arm.

“You okay, man?” Max asked, grabbing Westie’s stick.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’ll be fine. I don’t think anything’s broken. Shoulder hurts like a bitch,” Westie said as they skated off the ice.

Max handed Westie’s stick to Siebs behind the bench and then moved to the corner face-off dot ready to start the power play. Hopefully, Westie would be back on the bench soon. At least it wasn’t his fucking head. Liam was a goddamn prick, always had been.

A minute into the power play, Jake shot the puck over the goalie’s shoulder and Liam was out of the box already bitching. But the Strikers were now up four to two. They just had to keep their heads in the game and pull out the win to tie up the series.

“Let’s finish them off,” Crow yelled as he put one leg over the board and waited for Finn and Nessie to get off the ice.

Max grinned back at his linemate. There were three minutes left in the third period and the Strikers were still up four to two. Tonight’s game had been chippy as hell, but they’d been on fire, were cohesive, and played much better than the game two nights ago.

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