Page 28 of Full Body Hit: Part 2
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Games at home were always better.
The familiarity of their own ice, their fans surrounding them, the cheers that swelled when Chase did something right.
Everything justclickedlately. The hesitation from the first few months in the league had receded, a shadow in the distance that barely touched him anymore.
He was panting hard as he fought for the puck against the board, one of the Portland Orcas they were playing crowding him from behind, shoving his stick into the small of his back.Chase didn’t let the pain phase him. He froze the puck with his skate until he glimpsed Auston in his periphery, and kicked it right to him.
Coach had started to put them together a lot more after finding out they did extra practice a few times a week. As much as Chase wanted to put some distance between them emotionally, it was fucking amazing to play with him—to learn from him.
Auston skated backwards with the puck. They were in the offensive zone, Orcas circling, trying to force a turnover. Vince, who had also been upped to the second line on defence, was hovering on the blue line, there to take the puck from Auston’s pass and then send it over to Obi, their other second-line forward.
Chase rushed behind the goal, skates slicing into the already chipped ice to make it to the other side and position himself. He slipped between two Orcas and—
The hit came out of nowhere. There was air, and weightlessness, and then his back was hitting a hard, cold surface, lungs locked up, the bright lights of the arena blinding him.
He groaned, forcing his diaphragm to relax. He’d been hit in the sternum—there would no doubt be a bruise blooming there later, but he managed to drag in a breath, calming his galloping heart.
At least it hadn’t been his head. He’d probably be carted off to concussion protocol due to knocking his helmet in the fall, but Chase could tell it was nothing like last time.
He tapped his forehead, trying to clear his ears, but…that wasn’t his pulse throbbing.
That was an Alpha growl.
Chase sat up slightly, stunned at the chaos surrounding him.
A full-on scrum had broken out. There were people scuffling beside the boards, two referees trying to pull them apart. Therewere a few Orca-Spirit pairs holding each other from joining in the fray.
And then there was the fight happening feet away from him.
Auston’s face was already bloody. His helmet was off, hair wild, stuck to his forehead with sweat. At least his opponent was missing his head gear too, trying to take a swing, but Auston was fucking ragdolling him, hand fisting in the neck of his jersey and shaking him violently as he connected another hit to the guy’s face.
“Okay,” a referee shouted, jumping in and trying to get Auston off whomever he was pummelling.
Auston didn’t let go, though. His eyes were glowing, teeth bared, spit on his mouth. He looked like he was about to kill someone.
Sammy was suddenly there, crouching beside Chase. “Jesus, are you okay?”
“Help me up,” Chase ordered, and Sammy didn’t protest.
A medic was shuffling his way to them, but Chase waved him away.
“I’m okay,” he told the man.
Auston’s gaze snapped to him. It was the distraction the referee needed to finally break up the fight. This time, Auston let himself be herded away, attention on Chase, so intense it was a physical touch.
Chase watched as Auston was guided off the ice—not the penalty box, but straight through the tunnel to the locker room.
Yeah, that wasn’t good news.
It took a while for the insanity to die down. As Chase had predicted, he was taken to a dark room to be checked for a concussion, but he was allowed out for the third period.
Auston wasn’t there.
“What happened?” Chase asked Sammy as soon as he had a moment. “Where’s Auston?”
“Game misconduct.”
