Page 114 of Pucking Obsessed

Heine stiffens, when he notices that I’m watching him.

He turns to meet my gaze. The hairs on the back of my neck rise.

Heine looks like an angel, but his eyes are as cold as a devil’s.

I quickly look away, shuddering.

I hate that so many people are here hoping that D’Angelo fails.

I don’t know how to help him.

I ball my hands into fists.

“Focus.” Eden keeps his intense gaze fixed on his twin.

For the first time in the game, Shay is skating toward the goal with his normal level of energy.

He looks dangerous.

I rock on my heels, hugging my arms around myself.

My English ice prince can do this.

He has to.

“Score,” I whisper. “Fucking score.”

The crowd are on their feet.

But then, I wince, when two defenseman, who are both twice Shay’s size, come up on either side of him.

I scan the ice for D’Angelo.

Where the fuck is he? Why isn’t he supporting Shay?

D’Angelo appears lost in his own world. He isn’t present in the game. It’s like he’s playing through a fog.

“Shit.” I watch horrified as the players body check Shay at the same time.

My heart is beating fast. I’m shaking with adrenaline.

Shay twists with expert skill, stopping the rival players from taking the puck. Then to my shock, before he can pull his stick back and take the shot, the right defenseman dives in front of Shay.

And trips him.

The right defenseman makes it look like an accidental clash, but it’s obvious strategy.

I wince, when Shay crashes to the floor. He’s going to be bruised. He’ll need an ice bath to help with his recovery. Then this will be another night of rubbing arnica cream into his purple skin.

Are his ribs okay?

I bite my lip, moving as close to Eden as I can. I need the reassuring feel of him at my shoulder.

Eden drops his gloved hand from the glass, brushing it against mine as much as he can risk in front of journalists.

Eden’s eyes are molten with rage. He glances at the referee, but the referee doesn’t stop the game.

Why isn’t the referee calling a penalty?

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