Page 42 of Silent Girl

As soon as the puck hits the ice, I’m on it, slapping it back to where Jameson collects it before hitting it up the boards. My legs pump as I keep my eye on the prize, my focus honed in on that little black circle. I manage to get to the puck at the same time Welch does. Slamming my body against his, I push the fucker up against the boards. I want to do so much more, but I know with Gray off the ice for the next five, the team can’t be down another player.

I get the puck and slap it over to where Jameson is waiting. He takes it down the ice, rushes the net, swings his stick up, and brings it down again. The puck flies right over the goalie’s blocker side and hits the back of the net. The horns sound, and the crowd goes nuts. The team jumps on Jameson, congratulating him for his goal. A goal within the first two minutes of the game.

This is how you play fucking hockey, boys and girls.

At the end of the first period, we’re up by three. I hit the locker room and plop myself down next to Gray. He looks over at me. “I want him taken out,” he says. “Fucking asshole thinks he can disrespect my sister like that.” He shakes his head. I can see he’s still vibrating with rage.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask, prepared to do whatever it takes. I’ve been playing hard against Welch the whole first period, banging him uplegallyas much as I can get away with. I’m not afraid to throw gloves. I’m only holding back because, according to Aliyah, I have an image to fix. But that fucker is getting on my last nerve.

“You? Nothing, just have my back because they’re going to come at me,” he says.

“Don’t do anything that’ll get you suspended,” I caution him.

“I won’t. But they’re not going to like what I have planned either. Just have my back out there,” he repeats.

“Always.” I nod and we bump fists.

“All right, listen here. We’re up but they’re hungry. Keep 'em out of the zone and score. It’s that simple,” the coach says, and then stares right at Gray. “Monroe, keep it fucking clean out there.”

“Coach, the fucker said he wanted to fuck my sister,” Gray grinds out between clenched teeth, and the entire locker room goes silent.

“He’s a fucking dead man,” Jameson says.

“Fuck him up. You can afford a fine, but not a suspension. Keep that in mind,” this comes from the owner, our owner, Jacob Monroe himself. I haven’t had a whole lot of interaction with the guy, but he’s always watching. I can feel it.

The team hollers and everyone jumps up, ready to head back down the tunnel. The moment we touch the ice, Gray and Jameson nod at each other like they’re talking a language I’m not privy to. Which isn’t far from the truth. These guys know each other inside and out, have been playing together for years. I’m the newbie. It doesn’t take me long to figure out what they were planning, though. I win the puck drop against Welch, shooting it back to Gray, who takes off down the ice before passing it back to me.

I pivot with the puck, dodging Welch and maneuvering around him. He comes up beside me, attempting a quick steal. I look up and see that Jameson is right in front of me. I manage to pass it to him. Welch plows forward, and as he does, Jameson ducks, causing Welch to fly over my teammate’s back. That’s when all hell breaks loose as Gray is coming up hard and fast. He tumbles on top of Welch, and his left blade connects with Welch’s face. Blood pools around the Bear’s star center, who’s sprawled out flat on the ice, unconscious.

The refs, players, everyone crowds around him. Everyone except Gray and Jameson, who look on from a distance. I skate over to them. “You good?” I ask.

“Yep, can’t say the same about that fucker, though,” Gray mutters under his breath, and I don’t know what to say. It looked like a coincidence, an accident. Sure as fuck wasn’t the first time I’ve seen a player take a skate to the face, probably won’t be the last time either, but there’s something about the way Jameson and Gray share a look that tells me there’s more to it than that.

Of course I keep my thoughts to myself as each team heads to their respective benches while Welch is strapped onto a gurney and carried off the ice. The cleaners come out to clear away the blood left behind. I look across the rink to where Aliyah is seated, except she’s not there anymore. Her friends are gone too. Maybe they stepped out to the concession area or something.

At the end of the game, as the whole stadium is celebrating the Knights’ first preseason victory, I glance over to the penalty box again and realize Aliyah never came back.

Who the hell leaves a hockey game halfway through?But then my mind shifts to darker thoughts.What if something happened to her?

I head into the locker room. I’m supposed to stay for post-game interviews. But I couldn’t care less about the press right now. I dig through my locker for my phone and send Aliyah a message.

Me:

You okay?

Thereadnotice appears on the screen but she doesn’t message me back.

ChapterTwenty-One

Ihad to leave before the game was over. I couldn’t handle the sight of all that blood on the ice. My dad’s words were taunting me in my head:If you let any of my players touch you, that ice will be painted red with their blood, and it’ll be your job to come up with a creative way to explain how a whole team of NHL players went missing.

It was Liam’s blood I imagined covering that ice, not the player’s from the opposing team—the guy who obviously did something to piss off my brother. Instead, I pictured Liam’s body sprawled out on the rink, a pool of blood surrounding him because I did let him touch me. And I did let him kiss me. Twice.

I’ve been able to hold strong ever since, though. I’m not going to give into my urges, no matter how crazy this need to have him is getting. Sometimes I feel like I’m burning up from the inside out. But I don’t have a choice; he’s not for me.

He’s been doing good too. He attends every PR opportunity I’ve set up for him without complaint. I haven’t had to go out in the middle of the night again to find him and make sure he doesn’t end up splashed all over the front page of the tabloids. Which I’m thankful for, because I really do love my sleep.

I’m now at home, in bed, with Casper on my lap. I’ve read Liam’s message a hundred times over but I’m not sure how to respond. The fact that I had the image of him being the one bleeding on the ice and how much that terrified me is well…terrifying me.

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