Page 211 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
“Get her name out of your fucking mouth,” I roar before my fist collides with him, knocking his helmet to the ice and sending him rearing back.
Blood gushes from his nose and the ref blows the whistle, but I’m beyond listening—and so is Nash as he flies at me.
My helmet is next to go as he lands a solid hit on my jaw.
There’s a little voice in the back of my head screaming to stop. Sutton is watching. Casey is watching.
But I can’t. This asshole has had this coming for a long fucking time.
Our fight continues until I’m finally dragged away by Linc, Killer, and Brit, my breath heaving, my adrenaline pumping.
“Enough, Rivers,” Killer barks as Nash is shoved away by his own teammates.
“The fuck were you thinking?” Handsy demands, skating over and stopping in front of me.
They’re right— it’s been a fucking battle to keep the score even to this point. Having me in the penalty box isn’t going to help things.
With little choice but to leave the ice, I lift my hand to wipe the blood trickling down my chin before collecting my stick and helmet and skating toward the box.
Nash shouts something at me, but the blood rushing past my ears thankfully means I don’t hear it.
I’m forced to sit there as Vancouver lines up for a power play.
Guilt rages inside me, and it only gets worse when the puck hits the back of our net and the goal horn sounds.
Nash glares at me from his spot on the bench the whole time.
One of their team doctors tries to patch up his split brow, but he keeps knocking her hand away.
Sure, I’m the better player out of the two of us‚ not because of skill, but because of focus and dedication—and I got drafted first, but it’s time to fucking get over it.
The game ends in a loss, and I feel its weight pressing down on my shoulders as we return to the dressing room.
“That guy was a fucking asshole tonight,” Fletch says, stepping up to me.
I grunt a response. It doesn’t matter how much of an asshole he was; I shouldn’t have let him get to me like he did.
Falling into my stall, I tip my head back and close my eyes.
Everything fucking hurts, thanks to Nash’s attacks tonight, but nowhere is as tender as my fucking heart.
I’m done being away. Now that we’ve finished our final road game, I just want to be home.
I need my girl…
Both of them.
50
CASEY
Watching Kodie on the ice tonight was horrible. Nash was after him. That was obvious almost from the moment the puck dropped.
He was on a mission, and apparently, violence was the answer.
It was the roughest game I’ve seen in a long time. How we didn’t sustain any serious injuries is beyond me.
It wasn’t just Nash. The entire Vancouver team came out as if they had something to prove. It’s not like they lost their exhibition game, either.
