Page 22 of Brace and Chase

I see Quinn hesitate, but then he focuses on the game again.Yeah, you do that,I think as I follow his every move.

Carolina’s left wing makes the mistake of passing the puck to Quinn, and then it’s a free-for-all as far as I’m concerned.

The second the puck touches his stick, I slam him against the boards,hard, and without even pretending to go for the puck, I barrel into him again so he fucking flies.

“Fuck,” he growls, right before I shove him for good measure.

I don’t know where the puck is, but I feel two players on my left side, so I guess they’re battling for it. In the meantime, I take Quinn’s white sweater in my hands and pull him up none too gently.

“You better pray you don’t take another dirty hit on any man on my team because I’m coming for you.” I release him as soon as I’m done, and skate away. I don’t need to listen to his fucking excuses or bullshitting, but then he pushes my back so hard that I wonder if he jumped on me.

It’s only the fact I’ve been in skates since I was three years old that saves me from face-planting on the ice. I turn, anger fueling every bit of my heart, and then I go for him. I take off his helmet with my left hand and clock him on the jaw with my right fist. He punches me in the ribs before I can get in another hit, and I scream in fury.

It’s not the pain, it’s the audacity that this kid has, challenging me.Me.

I punch his stomach and then put all my weight into a shove that would’ve put him on his back if one of his teammates hadn’t caught him.

“Stay in fucking line you dirty piece of shit.” Arms pull me back while I shout at him and I know it’s Bear by the silence. His unyielding arms don’t let me go until I’m turned around and facing the bench. “I’m good now,” I mutter at him, and he lets me go.

I skate to the bench and sit down without looking anyone in the eyes and without saying anything.

Max

Are you okay?

I haveto force my jaw to relax when I read the text. No reason to be angry over it. It is what it is.

I delete it, like I have every other text that reminds mehe watches my games, and sit in front of my cubby, take my skates and gear off, and then just... sit there.

I need a moment.

Loyalty.

That’s all it comes down to.

I can say a lot of shit about Charlie Heart, and I have, but I can’t say he’s not loyal. The man stayed with a shit team for fourteen years when—no-trade clauses or not—he could’ve left at any moment. He only retired once his contract was fulfilled, not a second before.

It might be the one thing I respect about him. He’s clearly also very loyal to his family; he’s always brought them into the limelight with him proudly. So yeah, he’s a dickhead and a cruel bastard, but he’s loyal.

He’s also now, like it or not, one of my teammates, and I’m also an unbreakably loyal man, so even though I still hate him, I’m not going to let anyone talk shit to him on the ice.

No one but me.

I cover my face with a towel, pretending to dry the sweat when in fact, I’m just taking a moment to scrub my mind of the last three hours.

I feel a tap on my arm and move the towel to see Jules. He’s also been low-key avoiding me since the first game of the season and I suspect it’s because he’s mad at me and because he thinks I’m mad at him for being welcoming to Heart.

I’m not.

As our captain, Picard has always done right by us, and I’m never going to condemn him for it.

“Are you okay?”

I shiver a little at the reminder of the text. It’s the exact same question but it feels damn different. I clear my throat then look up at his patient green eyes.

“I am,” I tell him honestly.

“You wanna come for dinner?” he asks quietly and crouches down in front of me. “Jamie made lasagna... a new recipe.” The smile on his face seems more like a grimace for a second and I can’t help but laugh.

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