Page 108 of The Rebound Plan

Marsh clears his throat. “Emotions are running high.”

“The season hasn’t even fucking started yet. I didn’t realize you were so fucking soft that losing two games that don’t have any fucking points attached to them would be such a fucking problem.” Every f-bomb is a verbal exclamation mark on his diatribe.

And I don’t fucking disagree with him. “I didn’t start it.”

Dorrian throws his hands up. “Oh! Well, then! The rest of your unprofessional bullshit is fine!” He spins around. “Why am I only yelling at one of you?”

Max strides in behind him, shrugging off Gusty and Connor. “We collided. It happens.”

“You fucking tried to table top me, asshole.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

Dorrian holds up his hands. “Shut the fuck up, Tiller. You too, Rusty. Get changed. Then my office.” He looks at our teammates. “Emotions are as high as our expectations for the season. Nobody likes starting flat footed. We’re going to figure it out.That’s the message, understood? Even better if I don’t read a word of this on Twitter, but that’s probably already too fucking late.”

And then he stalks out.

Nobody moves.

“For the record, I said theemotions are highline first,” Marsh says dryly.

There are a few chuckles, but Max and I aren’t laughing.

“You fucking overreact to everything,” he mutters, glaring at me.

Goading me.

And I have fucking had it. “Is that how you justify it to yourself? You’re telling yourself that the big guy overreacted to you slamming into me? You can’t not lie, can you? Even to yourself.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

No, I won’t be doing that. “You were already mad when you gunned it. You’ve been mad at me for weeks now, and you can’t seem to keep that under wraps, so let’s do this. Let’s work out these feelings whereyou’rethe one who overreacts to everything. What’s wrong, Tiller?” He doesn’t answer, and I pace closer.

“Come on, bud,” Marsh says, trying to stop me.

I swat him away. I’ll apologize for that later, but it’s beyond time for Max and I to have it out once and for all.

“Cat got your tongue?” I shove Tilman in the chest and lower my voice to a growl. “Teammate got your wife?”

He swings first, just like he did on the ice.

But this time, nobody is between us. I swing last, and that’s all that matters.

CHAPTER 41

SHANNON

I’ve just gotten back to the hotel with my new dress when I get a text message that makes my blood run cold.

Russ: I fucked up. I’m so sorry.

No further explanation.

It’s the kind of message that doesn’t invite a clear response. I’m typing my third variation ofwhat did you do???when texts start rolling in from Highlander WAGs. Asking if I need a drive to the arena, to the hospital.

What. The. Fuck?

I reply to the group chat, letting them know I’m in New York, and asking what happened.

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