Page 43 of Cold Carnage

Kellan pushed off from the goalpost and skated toward me, his smirk still in place. “You know we’re just trying to help.”

“By talking about her like that?” I snapped.

Weston sighed dramatically. “Man, you need to calm the fuck down.”

Rowan’s next shot ricocheted off the post and zipped past us. “Seriously though, what’s the deal with you and Paige?”

“Just... drop it,” I said through gritted teeth.

Rowan’s eyes softened slightly as he skated closer. “Look, I don't do emotional bullshit, but if you won't talk to us about it, shut the fuck up and stop being a goddamned pussy."

"He means you can tell us, fucker," Kellan said.

“Even if you are being an asshole,” Weston added with a grin.

I let out a bitter laugh despite myself. They were right; I was being an asshole. But admitting that meant confronting feelings I’d buried deep for so long.

Kellan gave me a serious look for once. “Maybe talk to her instead of snapping at us?”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered.

Rowan slapped me on the shoulder. “Just think about it.”

“Yeah,” I replied half-heartedly as we resumed our drills.

I scoffed but didn’t deny it. “I already said it's complicated.”

Rowan snorted. “Isn’t everything?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

Weston’s eyes softened for a moment. “You gotta deal with your shit, Ryker.”

I nodded but didn’t trust myself to say anything more.

We continued our shots in silence after that, the unspoken understanding settling between us like a weighty fog.

My problem with Paige? She was still under my skin, still in my head.

And maybe part of me didn’t want to let her go.

Rowan shot the puck again, just out of Kellan's reach.

“That’s how it’s done,” Rowan said with a grin.

I couldn’t help but smile a little. Despite everything, these guys had my back.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

Weston lined up another puck, his eyes narrowing with focus. “Plus, with asshats like Soric and Lawton on the fucking team, Adams has her work cut out for her. The shit those two are going to give her?—”

I cut in, pointing my stick at him. “And what about you two? You got into it with a bartender last week, and you,” I pointed to Rowan, “nearly put Burt fucking Michaels in the hospital last season.”

Rowan shrugged, his muscles rippling under his gear. “I didn’t hear you complaining after he took that dirty swing at you.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. The weight of being a Serpent pressed down on me like a physical force. “Being a Serpent is no fucking cake walk.”

Weston nodded in agreement. “Why do you think everyone is jumping ship except the assholes?”

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