Page 98 of Nodus Tollens
Don’t take her from me.
Please.
Maybe that’s why I’ve been in a fucking mood all day. Or maybe it’s because Wren is at a Cardiology appointment right now, on game day, and I’m stuck on the ice worrying about how it’s going. Whatever it is, my mood seems to be rubbing off on the whole team because no one is in synch. Mal is playing like shit, Hendricks can’t keep the puck for more than a few seconds without losing it, and no one can move the puck around. Tonight was a big game, too. The Briar Hill Stormhawks were our biggest rivals. Our stats were identical, and we matched pretty equally as far as players and skills went, but this game was different. They were back with a vengeance. Last year, we had swept them in the finals, causing them to go home early in the tournament while we took it to the championships.
I could feel their need for retaliation with every body check that had us flying into the glass. They were playing fucking dirty tonight, and everyone was feeling it. Even Mal was hit hard by a few players, causing his big ass body to tumble on the ice. Fans were booing. Coach Banks was on our ass, and I was about two seconds away from walking off the rink. My head wasn’t in it. Not when all I could think about was Wren. She had told me over a text that she would be late to my game tonight because of her appointment, and at first, it didn’t hit me like it was now. It was almost halftime, and she still hadn’t shown up. My mind was already coming up with assumptions about why she wasn’t here yet, but I only had seconds to think about it before I was thrown back into the game.
Just as my eyes found the puck, I hurriedly lunged toward the player who was advancing toward the net but found myself slammed hard into the glass before I could reach him. My head banged painfully against the side as my knees felt like crumbling to the ground. I could hear and feel banging against the plexiglass from the fans, who had a mixture of emotions from what had just happened. Some cheering and some cursing. Everyone in the arena seemed to be pitching in with their thoughts. But all I felt was fire. A burning-hot fire began to course through my veins as my vision slowly started to return. I could hear Mal in the background, shouting along with a few other guys as the ref was blowing a whistle.
“Fuck you, Davids. That was a bullshit hit, and you know it!” Mal growled through his mouthguard. Over the years of him getting into fights and pissing off players on the opposite team, he has perfected talking through his mouthguard.
Shaking my head, I regained focus and watched as the ref held back a provoked Mal. The guys surrounded him, Hendricks trying and failing to calm him down. I found myself skating toward him.
“I’m good.” I mumble to him as soon as his eyes land on mine. He searches the length of me for any injuries, and with a grunt, he shakes off the ref.
“See, your boy’s fine.” The tall asshole who hit me throws back at Mal. “Must take hits like that all the time with the way he fuckin’ plays.” He chuckled.
My fists clenched at my sides as I watched some of his teammates join in on the laughter. Instead of responding, I held in my anger the best I could, burying it inside with the rest of the bullshit I kept hidden. Even Mal held it in surprisingly well as we all got into position for a face-off. In the background, I could hear Coach shouting. None of his words were being processed. If anything, everything went blank. My thoughts were clouded with Blue. I had checked out mentally months ago, but right now just confirmed it. Even before Wren, I was starting to see that hockey wasn’t my end goal, my dream.
My dream was Blue. My dream was to spend hours, days, and weeks giving her the life she deserved.
Once the puck was dropped, I instinctually shot off. My skates tore up the ice as I watched the puck bounce from player to player. My legs burned with each stroke. One foot after the other, I forced myself to focus. I pushed myself harder until I was close enough to Collins, who was currently dribbling the puck around the defense. With a shout, I called out his name and slapped my stick against the ice, signaling for him to pass it over. Instead of passing it like he normally would have, he glanced at me, then shook his head as if telling me ‘no.’
What the fuck?
My temper had been peaking since I set foot on the ice, but this just pushed me over the edge. Teeth gritted and eyes glaring holes into Collins, I slammed my stick again with a harsh bellow.
Nothing again.
Not even an acknowledgment.
My blood was fucking simmering now. My skin erupted into flames as I watched the stupid bastard lose the puck. He gets shoved hard, causing him to stumble on his skates, and part of me is elated after he refused to fucking pass the puck. Then, as I start to skate off in the opposite direction, my world is rocked off balance as I feel a sharp slam into my side, and I’m pinned to the glass again. Momentarily, all I see is black fuzz. Even the sounds around me vanished as the pain from the blow took over and wreaked havoc on all my senses. Everything throbbed. My hip, my shoulder, and my knees felt as though they were about to give out. I knew pain well. I knew how to handle and harness it to my advantage, but instead, I felt my rage take over. Out of nowhere, a shot of adrenaline struck me, and before I knew it, I was lunging. Eyes latching onto the storm hawk fucker who body-checked me, I give him a hard, forceful shove.
“The fuck is your problem?!” I seethed while watching the guy stumble on his skates and quickly spin around to face me with a look that matched mine. I take him in and realize it’s the same guy who pushed me earlier. Throwing my stick on the ground, it slides across the ice and causes a split-second distraction before I’m driving my palms back onto his chest and pushing.
“Hayes, chill the fuck out.” I hear a growl from beside me as I’m yanked backward, but I immediately shrug them off.
“Nah, let him go.” The smug fucker across from me smiled as he threw his stick onto the ground beside mine. A wide cocky grin stared back at me. “Never seen the hotshot so riled up before.”
“Back off, Davids.” Mal vibrated behind me, but I was already taking off my gloves. I was too wired and clouded by my raging thoughts to stop now. I needed this. I needed to fucking let go, and right now, this was my outlet.
“Go, Mal, I’m fucking fine.” I grind out, and slowly, Davids and I begin to circle each other. I already knew Mal would disapprove, not because I couldn’t fight but because this wasn’t me. I wasn’t a fighter. I rarely ever became caught up in the emotions of the game, where I ended up on the other side of someone’s fist. That was always Mal. He was our defender, our strong fighter.
Not me.
There wasn’t even an ounce of apprehension or reluctance pumping through me as my fists tightened in preparation. Mal’s voice wasn’t even registering anymore, but I noticed, from the corner of my eye, his large form standing off to the side with his stick wrapped tightly in his palm. I knew I was going to get an earful from him after the fact, but I was too furious and too damn anxious to care.
At the same time, we began unstrapping our helmets and tossed them beside us. The roar of the crowd was vibrating the ice beneath us. A constant thump that jolted my body into a further state of rage. Then, with one last glance into the stands where Blue should be sitting, I found an empty seat, and my heart sank further into my gut.
Where are you, baby?
I was lost in thought, imagining the worst possible scenarios, when I felt a burst of pain explode in my jaw. A heat like no other blossomed across my jawbone as my ears began to ring incessantly. Shouting erupted from all around me. At first, all I could see was a sea of stars floating around me as I fought to stay on my feet. My face ached like a motherfucker, but I knew I couldn’t give up and let him get another hit in. So, as I spit out a mixture of saliva and blood, I refocused. I concentrated on something other than my pain and lunged at him like an animal. Fists pummeling and veins pumping with adrenaline, I went ballistic. Crunch after crunch, I felt my knuckles crash into the side of his face. I was a man possessed. My hands wouldn’t stop flying, and my heart wouldn’t stop thumping as every pent-up emotion was taken out on his face. It felt like an eternity passed when I was finally pulled away from him. I was so caught up in the moment, reeling in my adrenaline, that I fought the person pulling me away. I tried shrugging off the arms yanking me back roughly. Shouting. You name it, I tried it.
“You got him, man. Relax.” The ref tried cooling me off while skating us backward. His words brought me back to reality like a switch was turned on. My eyes found a pissed-off player with blood oozing from his face, glaring at me. Another ref was pulling him back, but I could sense his urge to come after me, especially after having his ass handed to him. Then, with one final look, I sneered right back with gritted teeth until I was thrown into the box and left there to wallow in my thoughts and pain.
Fuck, my jaw hurt.
Fans all around me banged on the glass, trying to capture my attention. Their overzealous words blurred together, making it nearly impossible to concentrate or even formulate a single thought as I sat with my elbows on my knees. I felt like raging again. I felt like busting out of this cage and never returning to the ice again. I was desperate, angry, and felt so fucking helpless being stuck here when I should be with Blue. I should be at her appointment, holding her hand, providing reassurance, and kissing those lips every time she became worried. I shouldn’t be here, and I felt like the world’s biggest asshole because of it.
