Page 92 of Cheap Shot

“Those aren’t really the same thing,” Sebastian pointed out.

“Look, I don’t go out there desperately hoping to punch a guy’s face in or anything. But if the game gets heated and someone messes with one of my teammates, I’m gonna fucking give them a warning.”

“Because itseemslike you are really into it.”

“I’m good at what I do,” Crawford repeated. “And in the moment, when the adrenaline is flowing and I’m pissed, yeah, I get a rush. It’s probably like when you scored a goal or set up a really great play.”

Sebastian considered the idea. “Probably,” he conceded. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“Have I crossed the line? Sure. I probably have a few times in my career. The time I got into it with Theriault off the ice wasn’t my proudest moment. But I’m never gonna apologize for protecting my guys however I can.”

“Yeah, about that,” Sebastian said, swallowing hard.

“About what?” Crawford asked, staring at the screen.

Sebastian licked his suddenly dry lips. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to ask Crawford something he’d been wondering for a very long time. About the hit to Nicky during the playoff game. “What about some of the other shit you’ve?—”

“Wait, hang on,” Crawford said, sitting forward. “I want to see this replay.”

Sebastian sighed.Damn it.

He blinked at the screen, focusing on it in time to see the little shoving match between Tanner Clayton and Leif Rasmussen that had taken place in front of the Nordic team’s net.

“Clayton was all over Rasmussen every time they were on the ice together,” one of the announcers said.

“Is it just me or does hockey have the gayest innuendo of any sport?” Sebastian asked thickly.

He took a sip of water. Damn it, that was the only part he hated about weed. Dry mouth was the fucking worst.

Crawford chuckled. “Yeah, probably.”

They watched in silence as they showed a few other clips of Clayton pestering Rasmussen, before switching to Carlson.

“He’s really banging bodies in the dirty areas there,” the announcer said.

Crawford let out a low rumble of a laugh. “Okay, I see your point.”

The next clip was later in the period when Clayton had Rasmussen pinned against the boards. He said something that made Rasmussen snarl and elbow him in the ribs.

“Man, those two arealwaysgoing at it,” Crawford said with a shake of his head.

Sebastian glanced over and lifted an eyebrow at him. “Was that intentional or …”

Crawford let out another low, rumbly laugh. “Nah, but it does work, I guess.”

“So are they …” Sebastian asked.

“Are they what? Into dudes? Yeah, we just talked about?—”

“No, not that.” Sebastian waved that off. “Are they a thing? Because I feel like you can cut the sexual tension with a fucking knife whenever they’re on the ice together.”

“Nah,” Crawford said. “Clay’s a total slut. The dude gets more tail—male, female, and otherwise—than anyone I fucking know. How he manages it is beyond me but …”

“Doesn’t mean he and Rasmussen aren’t hooking up.”

“I guess,” Crawford said, sounding doubtful. “They played together in Juniors, I know that. They had some weird beef then, maybe that’s what you’re picking up on?”

“Maybe.” Sebastian shrugged. “I could be reading it wrong. I’m just sayin’ there’ssomethingthere, I’m sure of it.”