Page 78 of Breakaway

I toss my stick and gloves on the ice and charge at Tucker, hitting him in the face with my fist. His head flies back, and before he has the chance to punch me in return, my fist connects with his chin. My knuckles start to bleed, and I flex my fist several times.

“Shut the fuck up. Don’t you dare talk about my wife. Ever again.”

“Don’t like hearing the truth?” Tucker laughs, spitting blood onto the ice.

Someone grabs me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. I try to break free, and that’s when Tucker’s fist slams into my face. My vision goes black as I shut my eyes. Another blow follows, busting my bottom lip. The commotion around us becomes louder, and someone pulls me away from Tucker, even though I wriggle as hard as I can.

“Let me fucking go!” I roar.

“Calm down, Pashkevich.” Colton’s voice in my ear sounds furious. “He’s not worth it.”

“He’s a coward!” I yell, finding Tucker with my eyes. He’s glaring at me; his face is bloody. “You’re a fucking coward! Hitting me in the face when I was held back?”

The referee puts himself between us and pushes me backward. In the penalty box, I slump down onto my ass and stare in front of me. My heart hammers, deafening me and turning all other sounds into white noise. It’s like the whole arena has gone silent, even if I know that’s not the case.

“Ublyudok.?2” I wince from the pain of my split bottom lip. I can only imagine how my face looks. I’ll definitely be sporting a black eye tomorrow.

I grab an ice pack from the off-ice official and hold it to my eye, begrudgingly watching what’s happening on the ice. Tucker continues cursing from the opponent’s penalty box, but I ignore him.

The five-minute penalty for both of us makes my heart drop. I won’t be able to help my team. I look up at the Jumbotron, and my jaw ticks. Seeing two to three makes me ball my fists.

The noise of the arena is meaningless. Twelve thousand people slowly dissolve into the background, because I feel her gaze on me. I meet Nevaeh’s eyes from across the ice and instantly know she’s been crying. Her hands are pressed to the plexiglass, and she’s not paying any attention to the game. Only to me.

I jerk my head and watch the ice instead. Hockey. That’s the only thing I should be focusing on. Only the game matters right now. I already made a terrible mistake letting that jerk rile me up and starting a fight.

My temper is my weakness. It always has been.

And so I sit in the penalty box, watching my team lose the game. The final score stays two to three when the horn signals the end of the game, but it feels like we lost by way more than one point. Because I know it’s all my fault.

1 ????? ????. — Thank God.

2 ???????. — Bastard.

Chapter 31

In Love

NEVAEH

The living room is dark,but I don’t turn on the lights. My phone is beside me on the couch, and I continuously glance at it. I hug my Sulley to my chest tightly, hoping to find at least a little bit of comfort. It would be so much easier if this plush toy could silence my worries like it did when I was a kid. Unfortunately, it’s not working right now. I’m a mess, and I don’t know what to do to make it easier.

Even one single thought about Roman leaving on a five-game road trip pushes my anxiety level to its peak.

The screen of my phone flashes; another message from Angie pops up. Biting my bottom lip, I debate whether or not I should reply. I’ve been avoiding her and everyone else since the game ended and I fled the arena because I couldn’t stand being there. Roman’s bleeding bottom lip and perfectly visible black eye have engraved themselves in my brain, and they’re all I can think about.

Why did he hit that Boston player? That fight seemed personal, not like others I’ve witnessed on the ice. What could’ve pushed him to do that? I can’t get rid of the feeling that it was because of me, because of my mother’s interview. Chirping happens all the time in hockey, but not everyone plays fairly.

Pushing Roman over the edge is easy, considering how hotheaded he is.

With a deep breath, I take my phone from the couch and unlock it. Swiping away Angie’s messages, I type one quick text to the person who’s caused me so many tears in the past. The person who continues causing them now, just because she’s vile.

Me:

If you ever talk to the media again, lying about me and spitting your hate, I will sue you for defamation.

Once I hit send, I stand up and go to the kitchen. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, but I don’t feel hungry at all. My nerves are my food, fueling me with gloomy thoughts and making me nauseous. I wish I could do something to stop it, but for the last hour, I’ve been falling deeper and deeper into my own pit of despair.

I pour myself some water and down it in one go. Then I turn around and lean on the kitchen counter. The talk I’m about to have with Roman is the only thing that keeps me sane. I just need him here with me. The warmth of his skin, the gentleness of his fingers when he tucks my hair behind my ears and caresses my cheeks, his strong arms wrapping around me and holding me tight—simple gestures that have the power to make me forget about my worries and my heartaches.

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