Page 50 of Taking The Shot

The crowd went silent for half a beat, and then murmurs rippled through the stands. It was one thing to trash-talk someone, but this was an attack on his person, driven to humiliate him publicly in front of his family. He stood there, taking those words because they didn’t matter – they were only words, and he had an image to uphold for his family, for Constance, for…

“Knock his block off, Daddy!”

Paige’s tiny, high-pitched voice sliced through the chaos like a sniper shot. For a split second, the fight hesitated as laughter rippled through the stands. Even Keith had to grin. That was hisgirl—tenacious, loud, and already bloodthirsty for a win. When she laced up someday, she’d be a menace on the ice.

And Paige called him Daddy…

“That’s my daughter,” Keith announced with pride, locking eyes with Perry for a brief, warning-laced heartbeat before he sent his gloves flying, his stick clattering to the ice. Then, like a coiled viper striking, he sent his fist slamming into Perry’s jaw with a sickening crack.

Perry staggered, his body jolting like a marionette with its strings cut before he hit the ice flat on his backside. The roar of the crowd swelled as fists flew, blades screeched against the ice, and bodies crashed together in a violent ballet of rage and testosterone. The brawl had begun, and Keith was right in the thick of it.

A second later, the world exploded.

“Woohoo!” Coeur’s unmistakable voice whooped over the chaos. “Take that, ya’ big ol’ baby! That’s how we do it in Texas, boy!”

“You’re in Canada, idiot,” Acton deadpanned, just before he drove his fist into another player’s face.

“Potato… Po-ta-toe,” Coeur sang, completely undeterred.

Keith barely had time to roll his eyes before Perry recovered and swung back. A meaty fist clipped his cheek, rattling his teeth, and he grunted.

“Coeur, would you hush?” he growled, bracing for another hit.

But Coeur? Oh, Coeur wasn’t shutting up anytime soon.

“We’re gonna celly in about an hour, so tell me—what’s it feel like to suck on a lemon?” Coeur taunted, gliding backward, dodging an incoming swing like some kind of infuriating ice ninja. “The puck, that’s the black little disc on the ice.”

“You’re supposed to hit it…” Acton chimed in between punches.

“You can usemygoal if you want—I’m giving like that. I’ll graciously take the point you give us,” Coeur goaded. Then, mid-taunt, his helmet was yanked clean off his head. His wild blond man-bun flopped free, almost like a shampoo commercial gone wrong. The elastic was knotted in his hair and resembled more of a tumbleweed because someone grabbed a fistful, causing Coeur to yelp wildly.

“Hey!Not the hair!Get Salas! He might look like a gargoyle, but?—”

“Hey—I’m onyourteam now,” Kenneth Salas growled, momentarily pausing his own fight to glare at Coeur. Unfazed, Coeur puckered his lips and blew him a kiss. The absurdity of it made even a few opposing players hesitate mid-swing as they looked at each other.

“Oh yeah—Salas issoooohot,” Coeur continued, voice dripping with over-the-top flirtation as he winked dramatically, almost like Marilyn Monroe.

“Shut up, Coeur,” Keith muttered, swinging at Perry and missing by an inch.

“Please! Someone take Coeur’s mic?” Savage bellowed, fighting off a guy who kept coming at him like a malfunctioning wind-up toy.

“It’s calledmotivation,” Coeur replied cheerfully. “I’mmotivatingyou to whip his scrawny butt.”

Then, as if this was some kind of twisted game of freeze tag, Coeur darted out of reach of a swinging opponent, giggling like a lunatic. “Can’t catch me! Nah, nah…”

“Uh, Perry is bigger than you—and currently fighting me,” Keith reminded him, ducking under another incoming blow.

“No, I promise that if I get out a tape measure, I’m bigger than him,” Coeur shot back.

“Oh my gosh—shut up, Coeur,” Keith, Savage, and Acton groaned in unison, still swinging and dodging punches like a pack of scrappy alley cats.

“Why’s everyone telling me to shut up? And why do I hear something whistling and laughter?” Coeur asked, suddenly pausing mid-skate.

“Air between your ears?” Acton offered without missing a beat.

“Good one, Acton!”

“Har har—no, seriously, do y’all hear whistling?”

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