Page 80 of Heartbreaker

“Pass, pass!”I look up, see Banks streaking down the ice, and instinct takes over.

I flick the puck toward him, sending it across the rink just before Atlas slashes me hard across the hands.

Fucker.

The sting slides up both of my palms and I have to fight to keep hold of my stick.

Luckily, they took pity on the man with the bum hand and put me on the team with Banks and a few of his former and current teammates. Atlas, Dash, and the others are mostly old-timers, one current pro player, and a mechanic named Briggs, who has a surprisingly wicked slap shot.

Banks scoops the shitty pass up and cuts in toward the net.

God, he’s smooth.

And we’re all playing nice?—

All, except Atlas, who struggles to turn off his competitive edge, no matter the occasion.

He starts chasing Banks down, his expression intent (and maybe a little murderous).

Luckily, Banks gets the shot off—not his full ripper, but a nicely placed wrist shot that the goalie has to scramble to catch. He covers it…

Right as Atlas reaches Banks, giving him a light crosscheck for his trouble.

Andlightsends Banks to his ass.

“Rude,” Banks mutters, getting up…and doing so with his stick between Atlas’s legs…

Atlas goes down like a ton of bricks.

Dash skids to a halt beside me, digging in his skate blade at precisely the right angle to shower Atlas with snow.

Our billionaire friend sputters indignantly and—fuck me—my heart squeezes when I remember Jade doing the same thing, albeit much more daintily.

And prettily.

“Asshole,” Atlas snaps, reaching out and wrapping an arm around Dash’s leg, sending him toppling to the ice to do some sputtering of his own.

I freeze.

Then bust up laughing, so hard that I let my guard down?—

“Shit!”

I fall forward—okay, I’mshovedforward—landing hard on the ice with a grunt…

And Banks on my back.

“Fucker!” I growl, reaching for him.

We grapple for a few moments, but then the grappling turns into laughter and shit talking, and pretty soon we’re all back on our feet and focused on the game.

We skate until my lungs feel like they’re going to explode and my legs shake so much I’m pretty certain I won’t be able to walk tomorrow. But by the time we call for a break and suck down water on the bench, I’m energized in a way I haven’t been in years.

Then we jump right back out there.

And I’m glad.

Because I’ve missed this—the strength and speed, camaraderie and shit talk, the high that comes when I connect a pass or score a goal—and considering it’s a pickup game and there isn’t a whole lot of defense being played, I score a handful. But, more than that, I miss the time in my life when shit was simpler.

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