Page 93 of A Scoring Chance

“Shut the fuck up, Hendrix.”

“That’s enough!” Coach bellows as we all snap to attention. “Four laps. Maybe then you guys can focus on practice.”

The whistle sounds twice as we all take off around the ice. Beau quickly catches up to me, and I slow my pace. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea to have them come to watch practice.”

The three of them have been perfect angels since practice started. Other than Darius coming to the ice to say hello to the two of us, and my occasional wink at Beauty when I can catch her attention, they haven’t moved from their spots.

“We have open practices all the time. This is nothing different from the usual. Besides, their being here is specifically to support us. It’s not our fault the guys can’t focus on shit today.Besides, Coach hasn’t said anything either. If he thought it was a problem, he’d already have had them escorted out of the arena.”

We round the corner and pick up the pace, trying to get around a large pack of guys taking their sweet-ass time on these laps. “Pick it up, ladies, or we’ll be practicing all night. Some of us have places to be tonight.”

“I’d be in a hurry, too, if I had a fine piece of ass waiting for me after practice.” Bower chuckles, bumping his shoulder with Crosby.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Beau growls, quickly coming to a stop, but I push him forward, not wanting a fight to break out right here on the rink.

“Keep your shit together, Beau. We can’t afford to lose our goalie because he couldn’t keep his shit together during practice.”

“Tell me you’re okay with him saying shit about Ramona.”

“Of course not. But there are better ways to handle Bower running his mouth than to start a fight during practice.”

We make it around the rink three more times without any more snide comments from the guys, and Coach calls for a five-on-five scrimmage. We split into two teams. The starting lineup is in green, and the second line is in black. I go right to the center, ready to face off against Bower. Not only did he take my spot as center on the team this year, but now I have the perfect opportunity to lay into his ass for talking out of turn about my Beauty.

As soon as the puck hits the ice, I charge forward, not even bothering to go for the puck. Instead, I plow full force into Bower, knocking the wind out of him. He crumbles to the ground, falling flat on his back, his eyes wide as he stares up at me. “Stop running your goddamn mouth about my girl before I put my skate up your ass. Your place in the starting lineup is only temporary. You better remember that.”

I don’t offer him a hand-up before hopping back into the game. Wayne grabs the puck from behind the net and moves quickly to the left side, passing the puck to George on the right side. George uses the boards to get the puck to me in the corner, and I slide it to the center in front of the goal to Crosby, who fires off. The puck slides right between Beau’s legs, giving my team an early lead.

“Maybe that will get one of the puck bunnies’ attention,” Crosby jokes, nudging Beau in the chest. “I don’t mind your sloppy seconds, especially when they look like that.”

Beau’s gloves and stick hit the ice before he reels his arm back, clocking Crosby tight in the jaw. Crosby’s head snaps back, sweat flying off his face, but he remains on his feet. Everyone moves back, not wanting to get caught in Beau’s crosshairs.

“What the fuck!” Crosby screams as Beau pulls his arm back and hits him again with a right hook.

He stumbles, but Beau doesn’t give him a chance to recover, hitting him with three jabs to the ribs. Crosby finally regains his balance enough to swing, but Beau ducks underneath his arm, catching him in the chin with a beautiful uppercut.

“Break it the fuck up!” Coach shouts as I grab Beau and pull him off Crosby.

Crosby’s face is fucked-up, with a nasty cut over his right eye, blood pouring down his jersey and dripping onto the ice. His lip is also cut in two places, and he’ll definitely be black and blue tomorrow.

“What the fuck happened? I turned my back for two seconds, and now you're acting like a bunch of high school punks.”

“He started it, Coach.” Crosby points at Beau, who lunges right for him. I barely manage to hold him back. The last thing we need is for him to make matters worse.

“I told you to stop running your fucking mouth. You didn’t listen, so I fucking shut it for you,” Beau growls, wrestling from my grasp and skating off toward the locker room.

“I’m sorry, Coach. Things have been a little tense recently. Let me go talk to him and calm him down, and we’ll be back on the ice.”

Coach stands there for a moment, his eyes roaming Crosby’s face before he sighs. “Don’t bother. You two can call it a day. Crosby, get your ass to the trainer and get checked out. We need to know if you’ll be ready to play Saturday.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be good to go with some painkillers and ice.” Crosby grabs his ribs as he skates in the opposite direction of Beau, toward the trainer's office.

Coach blows the whistle, effectively dismissing me, and resumes practice. I grab Beau’s gloves and stick from in front of the net before speeding after him. Luckily, I catch him just before he enters the locker room. “What in the actual fuck is your problem, Beau?”

“Are you fucking shitting me right now? I know you heard what the fuck he said about Alise and Ramona.”

“I did, but—” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“No fucking buts, Coop. Sometimes you need to use your fist to get the point across. Crosby and Bower wouldn’t have stopped talking shit until one of us did something about it. I knew it wasn’t going to fucking be you, so I handled it.”

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