Page 100 of Blindside Me
Second period starts rougher. Colorado comes out swinging, pissed about our defense. I’m sharp and focused, playing someof my best hockey. When I hit the bench, Coach Howell nods approvingly from the bench.
Then it happens. Roman nails Easton with a brutal hit, slamming him into the boards. The crowd gasps as Easton crumples to the ice. The ref’s whistle shrieks.
My vision narrows. All I see is Roman’s smirk as he skates away. My knuckles go white around my stick. One wrong move, one quick cross-check when the ref isn’t looking, and I could wipe that smirk off permanently.
But Coach Howell is watching. So is Jade. It takes everything I have to swallow the fury and help Easton up instead.
“You good?” I ask as he wobbles.
“Yeah.” He spits out his mouthguard. “Bastard caught me off guard.”
The penalty gets called, two minutes for boarding. Roman skates to the box, looking bored. Our power play unit takes the ice, and I force myself to focus on the game, not on the asshole sitting in the penalty box watching me like he’s already won.
When play resumes at full strength, Roman lines up close for a face-off. His voice is quiet, meant only for me.
“Guess you’ve figured out she likes it rough. You think you’re the only one who’s had her up against a locker?”
My insides crack. Not breaks, not yet, but a definite fracture. My stick twitches in my hands, an involuntary tell that I’m close to swinging it.
But I skate away. Somehow, I put distance between us before I do something I can’t take back. From the bench, Coach Howell gives me an approving nod. He thinks I’m showing discipline. He has no idea that inside, I’m already bleeding.
The second period ends with us up 1-0. Blake scores a beauty, and our bench erupts. I barely celebrate, too busy holding the storm inside my chest. Coming out of the break, I catch Jade’seye across the rink. She looks worried. Probably because I look like I’m about to lose it.
Third period. The tension in the arena has ratcheted up ten notches. Everyone senses that something’s about to blow between our teams. The hits get harder, the plays more aggressive. I match it all with clean, ruthless efficiency. It almost works. Almost.
Twelve minutes in, Roman skates near the media section where Jade sits. I watch from across the ice as he slows, says something, and gestures toward her. I can’t hear the words, but when her face hardens and shoulders tense, my insides snap.
The smart move is to skate away. Go back to the bench.
But when she flinches and that bastard grins…
I choose violence.
The distance between us disappears in a blur. I drop my gloves before I even realize what I’m doing.
“You like taunting your exes?” His gaslighting messages still burn in my chest.
“Do you hate that I got there first?” He spreads his arms, like he’s the king of the whole damn arena. “That I always arrive first?”
The implication burns deep, but this isn’t about us or hockey. This is about the way he makes her feel.
“Leave Jade alone.”
He smirks. “Why? She’s ruined goods.”
My fist answers.
I launch myself at him, all two hundred pounds. We hit the ice in a tangle of limbs and fury. My fist connects with his jaw before he can even get his arms up.
“Fucking bastard!” The words rip out of me as I land another punch.
“She was damaged goods before I got hold of her,” he spits out.
He bucks and lands a shot to my ribs that knocks the wind out of me. We roll across the ice, the cold biting into exposed skin where jerseys have pulled loose. I taste blood. Damn it. My lip must be split.
The crowd roars, the sound swelling until it’s all I hear. I’m vaguely aware of teammates and refs closing in, but all I see is Roman’s face, all I feel is the crunch as my knuckles connect with his nose. Blood spatters the ice.
He spits blood at my skates, still grinning like he’s won.
