Page 109 of Fear of Falling

He grinned at me from beneath his helmet as he gave me a thumbs up, letting me know he was fine. I hadn’t realized the ref had blown the whistle and that we were drawing a slight crowd, until I felt Tasha tug on my hand. Feeling a little embarrassed, I took my seat. Yet, as number 46 glared at me, I couldn’t refrain from mouthingfuck you.

My hands shook and my right one throbbed from hitting the glass.

“Damn, Josie. Going all she-hulk,” Mateo joked behind me.

“He had it coming,” I huffed, crossing my arms.

“Don’t touch her boyfriend,” Tasha nudged my shoulder teasingly. I should have felt more embarrassed than I did, but seeing Wyatt hit like that did something to me, even though I knew it was all part of the sport.

The game continued, the hits still harder than necessary, as the clock slowly ticked down. The Knights led 3-1. I watched as Wyatt moved into position on the ice, number 46 in front of him. From where I sat, I couldn’t see much, but it looked like one of them was talking.

A sinking feeling appeared in my gut as number 46 shifted forward a little.

Nothing good will come of this.

Seconds later, Wyatt dropped his stick and launched himself at the player. Wyatt’s gloved fist slammed into the side of his helmet and the two of them fell to the ice, Wyatt’s helmet flying off. One second everything was calm and the next players from both teams were throwing punches at each other, refs whistles sounding off as the crowd went crazy.

Jumping to my feet, I pressed against the glass, trying to find Wyatt amongst the throng of limbs and sticks. I felt helpless as I watched Trevor and Bryton pull Wyatt away from number46 as players from the other team did the same with their own teammate.

Behind me, Mateo and Landon shouted, but I couldn’t make out their words over the crowd. Coach Barnum stood in the box, screaming at his players, but no one listened. Tensions were high the whole game and whatever happened between Wyatt and number 46 simply lit the fuse.

Moments later the refs managed to separate the two teams, the players holding each other back as they continued shouting at each other. As some players skated off the ice, I finally saw Wyatt, still restrained by Trevor and Bryton. Still missing his helmet, I was horrified to see blood running down the side of his face and lip as he smirked at number 46.

For a split second, the sight of Wyatt all aggressive, dripping blood and smirking made my heart race.

Something is so wrong with me that I find this hot.

I pushed the thought from my mind as Wyatt shook off Trevor and Bryton’s hold and skated off the ice.

“What the hell just happened?” Mila asked. “I haven’t seen Wyatt lose his cool in a long time.”

Frowning, I recalled that he had a reputation for being a hothead when he was first drafted, but after proving himself in his debut season, he’d settled down.

Until now.

“Wonder what that was about?” Mateo said behind me, but none of us had an answer.

The ref announced both Wyatt and number 46 were ejected from the game and the entire crowd booed in response.

“I’m going to go check on him. I’ll text you guys later,” I said without taking my eyes off Wyatt.

“Of course. Go make sure he’s okay,” Tasha nodded.

As I slid out of the aisle and made my way up the stairs, I could feel eyes on me. After my outburst, Knights fans would likely wonder who I was to Wyatt.

It took me only a few minutes to make my way down the hallway leading to the locker room, flashing my security pass to the guard as I passed. I stopped in front of the locker room doors, forcing myself to take a moment to compose myself.

“Wyatt?” I peeked my head in looking around. The room was a lot messier than the last time I was there. Gear, bags, clothes strewn about. Hearing the sound of something slamming, I cautiously entered.

Wyatt stood in front of his cubby, throwing his gear inside. I could only see the side of his face, but I could tell he was angry.

“Wyatt?” I said quietly.

“What are you doing here, Josie?” He didn’t look in my direction. Ignoring his curt tone, I walked over to him.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he hissed, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and yanking them on.

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