Page 95 of Across the Boards

I don’t know. That jersey is a pretty bold statement. Braver than any punch.

I meant what I said about reclaiming hockey on my terms. Your jersey seemed like an effective shortcut.

Most efficient editor I know, always finding the shortcuts.

We’ll talk after the game. Sarah says to tell you Miami looks “completely rattled” after your fight. Apparently they’re playing terribly now.

I grin at that, then wince as the movement pulls at my swollen lip.

Silver lining to my momentary insanity.

Meet me by the family exit when you’re done with team stuff.

Will do. Thanks for wearing the jersey.

Thanks for sending it. Now stop texting and ice that jaw.

I set the phone down, both dreading and anticipating the postgame conversation. On one hand, I lost control in a professional setting, something I rarely allow to happen. On the other hand, the look on Jason’s face when he realized I’d landed that first punch... that will stay with me for a long time.

The final buzzer sounds a few minutes later, followed by the distinctive eruption of a home crowd celebrating victory. The medical staff informs me we’ve won 4-1, shutting Miami down after my departure from the game. Small mercies.

My teammates file in, still riding the high of victory. A few slap me on the shoulder pads in passing, silent acknowledgment of what transpired. Tommy gives me a knowing nod.

“Miami played like shit after your fight,” he reports, dropping into the stall beside mine. “Completely off their game. Coach will never admit it, but your sacrifice play might have sealed the win.”

“Not exactly what I was thinking at the time,” I admit, pressing an ice pack to my jaw.

“Yeah, well, sometimes instinct trumps strategy.” He begins unlacing his skates. “That was quite a shot you landed. Jensen says Martinez is going to have a hell of a bruise tomorrow.”

“Good,” I say with more satisfaction than is probably appropriate. “How’s Elliot? I got a text, but...”

“Handling it like a champ. Sarah says she didn’t even flinch during the fight, just stood there watching like she was taking mental notes.” Tommy grins. “She’s made of pretty stern stuff.”

“I know.” And I do know—it’s one of the things I admire most about her. The quiet resilience, the composed strength beneath her cautious exterior.

Coach’s postgame address is brief, focused on the win rather than my indiscretion. He mentions “maintaining composure regardless of provocation” with a pointed look in my direction but otherwise lets the matter drop. Two points in the standings tend to smooth over a multitude of sins.

Media obligations are mercifully brief—a few quotes about the game plan, nothing about the fight since I was ejected before the reporters could formulate their questions. I shower and change quickly, anxious to meet Elliot despite my uncertainty about her reaction.

The family exit is a smaller doorway near the administrative offices, designed to give players’ families a quieter departure option than the main arena exits. As I approach, I spot her immediately—still in my jersey, hair slightly mussed from what was no doubt an eventful evening, a small furrow between her brows as she checks her phone.

23

ELLIOT

The wait is interminable. I pace the corridor near the designated exit, replaying the fight in my mind, wondering what Jason said to provoke such a response from someone Tommy had described as “level-headed on the ice.”

When Brody finally appears, my breath catches slightly. A bruise is forming along his jaw, his bottom lip slightly swollen. His expression is wary, as if he’s unsure of my reaction.

“Well, Rocky, how’s the face?” I ask, aiming for lighthearted despite the tension thrumming through me.

“Better than his,” he replies, stopping a respectful distance away. “You didn’t have to wait. I could have met you at home.”

“I wanted to see the damage firsthand.” I step closer, clinically assessing the bruising. “Does it hurt?”

“Only when I smile.” He demonstrates, wincing slightly. “So maybe you should be less charming for the next few days.”

“I’ll do my best to be utterly obnoxious,” I promise solemnly.

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