Page 37 of These Wicked Games
“Maybe I could get some help, yeah? Tell your team to actually make some fucking shots. Nineteen shots in the third period. What the fuck. They’ve shot forty-seven times, Oli! And where the fuck has the defense been?”
“We’re making shots, but you see, the other team actually has a goalie who knows how to fucking play!” He shoves me back harder, and I’m so shocked I stumble then fall on my ass.
Everyone in the arena quiets.
Slowly, still stunned, I get to my feet. That fucking asshole! I charge him, spearing him down onto the ice. I drop my gloves and don’t even wait for him to lose his before I take his mask and throw it across the ice. I land a punch then too. The crowd roars with excitement. I don’t give a fuck about any of it. Andre finally gets his bearings, gripping my jersey and throwing me off him. He’s strong, I’ll give him that. Losing his gloves, he struggles to stand before punching me. I swing back, then grab him to tackle him back onto the ice.
“Worthless piece of shit!” I grit, and he knees me in the stomach. I swing again, jerking back as I’m restrained. Andre somehow pulls away from the grip of the players holding him to charge me, but three refs snatch him by the jersey and he stops so he doesn’t hurt them.
I’m not as smart, struggling out of the hands holding me back. Oh, I’m going to kill him. How fucking dare he. I lunge, then feel someone grab the back of my neck. Stop Kuli! You’re going to get suspended. Knock it the fuck off, Kuli!” Atlas yells in my ear. My breathing is heavy; I can’t get a hold on it. I can’t imagine what I look like. All the blood in my body is in my face, my neck. I’m boiling with rage. Andre’s hair is spilling down onto his shoulders, out of the tie it was in when we started this fight. Sweat mats strands to his face, and he’s breathing just as hard.
Grey skates around me, looking me in my eye. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He gets the other guys to let me go, then pushes me toward the tunnel. Fuck, this isn’t good. My eyes lift up and it’s now I see the chaos we’ve caused. The other team is watching us skate off the ice, and I feel nothing but shame. I meet Coach Lafleur’s molten eyes when I pass the bench, then find where Jessica is standing pinching the bridge of her nose.
Shit! I glance back and Andre is skating behind me. He follows me out of the arena. The announcers say something, but I can’t hold my attention on any of their words, and can barely hear them as we’re escorted to the locker rooms.
My shoulders roll. I realize now it’s Wolf, Colton, and Atlas who pulled me off our goalie while three refs had Andre restrained. Grey gives me a scathing look before leaving with Atlas right behind him. Andre pushes through the door, one ref staying behind.I know our coach will be joining us shortly. He’s going to kill me. “Pro tip.” The ref smirks. “You’re supposed to fight the other team.”
“Oh shit, my bad. Got confused.” Andre grins. “No harm, right?” I’m going to fucking strangle him. As soon as this ref leaves.
Ignoring him, the ref looks back at me. It’s a pitying thing I want to wipe off his cocky face. “Rule number one, never touch the goalie. Especially your own.”
The ref leaves us alone, but we don’t have a moment before Coach and Rod make their way into the locker room. Coach looks like a fucking tomato, his pale blue eyes unnerving as he glares at us, mouth pinched under that thick mustache. He opens his mouth, snaps it shut, closes his eyes, then walks out of the room. “Shit. Daddy’s gonna give us a spanking,” I hear Andre whisper. Does he take nothing seriously?!
Silence is short lived as Jessica comes into the locker room. “I could be naked.” Andre smiles up at her.
She jabs a finger in his direction. “I will remove your voice box through your ass,” she snaps. His mouth closes. “Oli,” she says softly, leveling her blue eyes on me. Her blonde hair swings like a whip. “What—and I mean this in the nicest way possible—the fucking fuck!”
“It’s not my fault.” Her brows rise. “It’s not! He pushed me first!”
“Are you serious right now?!” she snaps. “Are we in fucking preschool?”
“There could have been so many other people who got that shot and they sign this fucking dick? He nearly ruined my fucking career! He thinks this is all a fucking joke. And I don’t know ifyou were watching tonight, but he fucking sucks! The GM let an ungrateful dick play on this team and we’re shocked that he’s not playing well? He’s ruining everything!”
“First of all, just because I don’t metaphorically suck the dicks of my favorite players doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate being here. Second, I have one of the highest save percentages in my old conference. I don’t suck; your team sucks!” he yells back.
I stand, knocking the bench back. “My team was doing just fucking fine until you came here. You’re a fucking disgrace to your father's legacy!” Andre springs out of his seat and I stand, shoving him back as he swings on me. I sweep his leg and he stumbles, then I knock him down, climb on top of him, and go to swing. I feel nothing but the way his face connects with my fist.
Andre knees me in the ribs. The breath knocks out of my lungs and he grabs me by my compression shirt, flipping me off him. My back smacks into the tile floor. “I didn’t do shit! You ruined your own fucking career!” he screams back, then punches. “I didn’t do shit to you!”
I grab at him, trying to knock him off me. “Suspensions! Both of you!” We both freeze, looking up at Coach who looks like all the blood has pooled into his face and he’s about ready to burst. Slowly Andre gets off me.
I struggle to my feet. “Coach, he—”
“Not a fucking word,” he bellows. “Two game suspension. Both of you!”
“Wait! That’s not fucking fair—”
“You fighting our goalie for the fucking world to see, bringing that shame on all of us, on the team, isn’t fucking fair. We’vealready lost two goalies, Oli! You don’t touch your goalie!” he screams. “Get out of the arena! Now!”
He stomps back out of the locker room. It has to be almost the end of the second period. Jessica is quiet for a moment, and now with the adrenaline leaking out of my veins, I understand the gravity of what just happened. We both could have gotten hurt. I could have hurt him, and then we’d be back to nothing with three goalies being injured. No offense, Landon. Shit, I fucked up. I don’t even feel better. I feel so much fucking worse. I chance a look at Andre who’s dabbing his split eyebrow. Blood trickles down his face.
Tears choke my throat. What the fuck is happening to me? Jessica sits beside me on the bench. The sweat clinging to me doesn’t stop her from putting her arm around my back and giving me a little squeeze. This is what I like about Jessica. It’s not the fact that she negotiated a hell of a contract for me, it’s this. She knows I’m struggling. She doesn’t see a pro athlete, she sees me. “You two have to figure something out. You’re both either going to injure yourselves or fuck up everything for the other guys. I know your history. I get it. You two have to figure this out.”
I look back at Andre who’s watching us. There it is again, that little twinge of grief I feel when I see him. In the privacy of my own thoughts I can admit that I miss him almost as much as I hate him. It doesn’t matter, though. I’ll never trust him again. “He screwed me over, there’s nothing to figure out. He betrayed me.” I dare to look at him and could almost delude myself into seeing the grief on his face too.
“Oli, you know I care about you, and I know this is hard for you. I’m going to tell you this, though. As a friend. The only personwho’s ruining your career right now is you.” She lays a small hand on my shoulder. “I don’t really care how it happens, but you need to figure something out. Stop making your teammates, fans, and yourself look bad. I don’t care what either of you have to do. Figure it out.” She gets up, not sparing Andre another glance.
“Jessica—” Andre starts, and she spins, shaking her head.
