Page 24 of Pucking Forbidden

“Then we won’t lose it.” He slaps me on the back. “Shake it off, man.”

I nod my agreement, trying to do exactly that…only for Jamison to collide with me right before the end of the period, sending me into the boards. My skates tangle and I go down again, landing on my ass.

“Motherfucker,” I growl, my temples throbbing. I suck in one deep breath after another, fighting not to lose it on him. Every eye in the stadium is on us, like they’re just waiting for me to snap. I can’t, though. Not now. Not when I know Sutton is watching, worrying her ass off.

“My bad,” her brother mutters, holding out a hand to help me up.

“Fuck off,” I snarl as Archer skates up to us, his eyes full of worry.

“Fuck off, Peters,” Archer growls, bumping him out of the way. He holds out a hand, hauling me to my feet. “You good, brother?”

“Yep, fine.”

“Jordan,” Jamison says.

I ignore him, just like always, biting my tongue so hard I taste blood. I don’t want to hear what he has to say.

“Fuck off, Peters,” Archer snaps again, putting himself between the two of us as Jamison tries to talk to me again. “And tell your fucking lapdogs to back the fuck off. If they keep coming at him, you and I are going to have a serious fucking problem.”

“I didn’t set them loose on him.”

“Right,” Archer snorts.

We skate past Jamison. But I see the look on his face.Regret.

Goddammit. Sutton was right.

I expect Coach to have shit to say when we get back to the locker room, but he’s too busy chewing Logan’s ass to worry about mefor once. I don’t know where our goalie’s head is at, but it’s clearly not in the game.

“Fuck,” he mutters, bouncing his head against the wall like that’s going to help get it in the game or something.

"You good?" I ask, glancing over at him.

"Fucking fabulous."

"Right," I snort. "You hit your head against that wall any fucking harder, Coach isn't going to have to pull you out. You're going to knock your own dumbass out."

"Maybe that's the plan."

"Whatever. Have a fucking ball."

Logan’s eyes narrow. "What's up with you?"

I think I have to talk to the one motherfucker in this world I hate more than anything.

"Not a damn thing. What's up with you?"

"Not a damn thing.”

"Well, at least we're on the same fucking page,” I mutter.

He snorts, shaking his head before taking a big drink of water.

"You pissed about your girl being all over the news?" I ask after a moment.

He shoots me a death glare, which is answer enough.

"Figured. Want some advice?"

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