Page 275 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

My intentions are as clear as day in my darkened eyes that lock onto Jayce’s surprised ones.

I can see it now. The brewing realization morphs in his dilated greenish-blue eyes, confirming he understands what just happened.

The madness he just committed.

“You…” The words struggle to get out of my mouth, forcing him to stare back at me. I see the tears already forming in his eyes, but this man has lost any ounce of sympathy I’d ever dare give him.

Abusers don’t deserve second chances.

“ABUSIVE PIECE OF SHIT!” I scream and am ready to pulverize him when an arm wraps around me, holding me back to the best of my ability. “YOU FUCKING HIT MISHKA! OUR MISHKA! YOU FUCKING DOUCHE OF A BASTARD! IT’S OVER!”

Being restrained only makes me angrier because I know who’s stopping me from losing my fucking shit on this man, who’s made it his mission for years to ruin me.

Ruin our crew and leave us in a pit of unhappiness.

“I… I…” he tries to speak but can’t even formulate a word, his eyes returning to the woman between us on the ground.

I don’t even realize Mack, Dimitri, and Felix are on the ground attending to her. My purpose now is to rip this douche a new one and destroy his chance of recovering from this.

If I can’t hit him, I’ll show the world how evil he really is. “

“WHAT NOW? YOU WANNA APOLOGIZE? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?! I’M A FREAK FOR BEING GAY, BUT YOU CAN HIT ANYONE YOU FUCKING WANT?!”

I’m quaking, fighting Maddox, who’s tugging me away. I’d fight him right back, but I realize more people are coming onto the ice.

The audience is so silent, the shock still settling in through the masses. This is the only shot to hit him where it hurts.

That starts with speaking my truth.

“SIX YEARS!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Six fucking years of you harassing me! You think I didn’t know it was you? Your fucked-up obsession of texting me and insulting me for being gay! This was your end game, right? Hurting the people I love and care about?!”

I manage to get out of Maddox’s hold, my equipment flying off. I don’t make a move to skate forward, noticing Damien is to my right, and Maddox is to my left. I feel the other team members behind me, and I bet they all want a go at this man who not only hurt Ace but hurt Mikayla, too.

If we take a single strike against him, we risk losing our spot on this team.

For Mishka, I’d do it, but I know my team wants me to be the better person, not a reflection of someone I despise.

“You want me to say it? Fine. I, WOLFGANG AUGUSTUS, AM GAY! I AM MADLY IN LOVE WITH MIKAYLA CROSS JOHNSON AND MADDOX O’RILEY WILSON! I’ve had a crush on both of them for years! Years of hiding it because the world would NEVER support a boy who was born here, then tossed into Russia because he’s a hindrance. I didn’t ask to be born this way! To be born different! To be FUCKED UP to YOUR standards that match so many in this small town, but guess what?”

I take off my helmet, tossing it like I discard my gloves, padding, and hockey stick. Pointing directly at Jayce, I let my tears fall as I make sure he sees the overwhelming hate steaming in the depths of my irises.

“I’M TIRED OF BEING UNHAPPY! Tired of thinking I’m crazy, stupid, and unworthy of love because YOU took it upon yourself for the last six years to harass me so no one would accept me. That I’ll never be a goalie playing in the NHL and that my dreams are pathetic because anyone who is gay, bisexual, or doesn’t identify with your standards of what a man is supposed to be in this world doesn’t deserve to share the ice with you!”

I take off my jersey and throw it at his chest.

“If you think your definition of a man is this, then fuck this dream! Fuck me playing on this very ice because I don’t want to become someone like you. I NEVER want to be Jayce Winchester. The man who groomed our girl when she was fourteen in hopes she would never realize she was being taken advantage of. The man who uses his father to bail him out of every single instance. The man who cares about nobody but himself! The man who SET UP his best friend of eleven fucking years and fellow Pincer goalie, so he can keep playing on the ice. Your desperation is SICK! Your desperate need to be the golden boy of Strattonville is a fucking obsession!” I lift my tatted arms up, gesturing around the stadium.

“BUT LOOK! WHO’S THE BETTER PERSON NOW, JAYCE?”

He has no choice but to slowly look around, acknowledging the silent eeriness of the crowd that watches our dispute. You can see it in all the fan’s eyes—some are filled with tears, while others are already flowing with them as their expression prove how distraught this all is. Many still cover their mouths in shock, while there are plenty of men and women who don’t hide their anger and disappointment.

“You mock all of us who aren’t perfect. Those of us who aren’t rich or have generational wealth. Our tattoos bring disgust. Our piercings, a shiny mockery for you to further emphasize why you’re better than the rest., You use anything to stress this narrative that we’re bad boys who don’t deserve to be a part of a sport that makes us happy. But you know what has always stayed true?” I question as I lift my head up high. “Actions speak louder than words, Winchester. You just proved that.”

I notice the police and security are here, and though I want to stay here and see what happens, I know I’ll only become a commodity.

“Unlike you, I won’t do what my body is begging to do. I won’t hit you the way you deserve to be hit after what you just did to Ace and Mikayla, but Karma has a way of rewarding all of us. I hope she rewards you with a taste of your own medicine. Then, you can determine if all of this,”—I point around us—“was worth the thrill of it all.”

I spin around and skate away, the screams and shouts from fans directed at the culprit of our irony and pain.

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