Page 7 of Hold Me Closer
I plow into Aldersgate, knocking him to the ground on his back.
He goes down laughing like a hyena. He stops laughing when I land on top of him with my knee planted in his stomach and my hands on his helmet. I smack his head against the ground, hard enough to hear the satisfying crack of the hard plastic meeting the turf.
"Get anywhere near her, and I'll fucking kill you," I snarl in his face.
The ref blows the whistle as Tyson Magara hauls me off Aldersgate.
"Chill, man," Tyson shouts in my ear. "The whole world is watching this shit right now. That's the last thing you need."
He's right, dammit. I don't need this. But when it comes to her, I stopped being rational a long time ago. Right about the time I drove her away. Because of me, she nearly lost everything. I can't forgive myself for that. It fucking haunts me.
Aldersgate wheezes out a laugh, sitting upright. "You never change, Kirby. You're still an easy mark. All I gotta do is bring up pussy that forgot about you years ago, and you turn into a goddamn psycho."
"And you're still a woman-beating piece of shit," I snap at him, shaking Tyson off.
"At least my woman wants me." He smirks as one of his teammates helps him to his feet. "You're still hung up on a chick who forgot you existed before she left high school."
This motherfucker…
I take a step toward him, but Tyson grabs me again.
"Easy," Tyson shouts when I jerk against his hold. "Cool it with that shit before you end up riding the bench for the rest of the season!"
"I'm cool," I lie.
"Kirby! Bench!" Coach roars from somewhere behind me. "Now!"
The ref and Aldersgate's coach jog over, separating the two of us.
"Off the field, Kirby," the ref says. "Now."
Aldersgate throws his head back, laughing.
I mutter a curse, stalking off the field. No use even trying to explain what just happened. I played right into Aldersgate's hands. Just like fucking usual.
"Kirby! What the fuckwas that out there?" Coach growls, stomping across the locker room toward me as soon as the game ends, his blue eyes narrowed. With his square jaw set and his face red, the man looks like a bulldog in a suit. One ready to bite.
Fuck. This is just what I need.
"I tripped," I mutter, shoving a hand through my sweaty hair.
"Over that dick's fucking mouth," Tyson whispers beside me.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from snorting at his assessment. He's right, though. I did trip on Aldergate's mouth, right into his ugly ass face.
I'm not stupid enough to tell Coach that.
I'm already on thin ice around here. It's my permanent state of existence since I was traded to the LA Sabres at the beginning of the season. Actually, it's been my permanent state of existence since I was drafted into the league.
Whatever it takes to forget, right?
As if that'll ever happen. Aldersgate wasn't exactly wrong out there. I've been hung up on Nadia Mikhail since I was…shit. I've been hung up on that girl for so long I don't remember a time when I wasn't, truth be told. And Nadia doesn't want a fucking thing to do with me.
I broke her heart.
It feels like I ripped mine out of my chest in the process.
Six fucking years and it hasn't healed over or scarred. It just continues to fester and bleed. I tried like hell to convince her toforgive me. She didn't want to hear it. I tried to convince her that I'd wait for her. She didn't want to hear that, either.
