Page 98 of Keep Me Close

He chuckles and looks toward the suites. “Didn’t realize you were into reality stars.”

I remain silent even though my jaw locks hard enough to ache. There’s a ref less than ten feet away. It’s not worth taking the bait.

“The whole internet’s talking about her, man. Guess she needed a new storyline, and you’re the lucky bastard who got the job.”

My grip tightens on my stick as I continue staring straight ahead.

He leans closer, voice dropping as a few more players skate into position. “So, is she your new girl or is it just your turn?”

I swivel just enough to pin him with a hard look. “You should do yourself a favor and shut your fucking mouth before I do it for you.”

He smirks. “Touchy.”

The game resumes, and the next few seconds are a blur. Skates, sticks, bodies, and a scramble along the boards. By the time the play stops again, Knickerbocker’s on me like a fly on shit.

He laughs under his breath. “Always preferred redheads myself. I enjoy figuring out if the curtains match the rug. You get that far yet?”

My head whips toward him, and my vision goes red.

He glances up toward the suite before licking his lips. “Or… maybe there isn’t a rug at all. Can’t say I wouldn’t mind finding out firsthand. Think she’d be into a little two on one action? Or, hey, you can just sit back and watch.”

That’s it. I drop my gloves before the ref even finishes blowing the whistle, and my fist connects with his jaw hard enough for his head to snap sideways. The crowd explodes as he swings, catching me in the shoulder before I drive him to the ice. We go down in a tangle of pads and punches, helmets knocking together, the refs yelling as they try prying us apart.

Players on the bench are banging their sticks against the boards. I barely hear any of it over the blood roaring in my ears. He gets one glancing shot in before I pin him, landing another punch.

“Keep her name out of your fucking mouth,” I growl.

A striped sleeve wedges between us and then another. Hands grab at my arms before I’m hauled backward.

He’s still smirking as he spits blood onto the ice. “And if I don’t?”

When I lunge again, Steele hooks an arm around my chest while Laiken catches my elbow.

“That’s enough,” Steele barks.

“Box. Now,” the ref snaps, pointing.

“Cool it,” Laiken mutters under his breath as they drag me toward the penalty box. “Knickerbocker’s not worth getting tossed out over.”

The crowd is a mix of boos and cheers, the noise crashing over me in waves as I climb into the box and drop down on the bench before yanking off my helmet and shoving a hand through the damp strands. Even now, I’m breathing hard as adrenaline surges through my system and anger simmers just beneath the surface. The second I look up at the suite, I catch sight of Cheyenne standing at the glass.

From up there, she wouldn’t have heard a word he said. All she would’ve seen is me dropping my gloves and going after a guy, as if I snapped for no reason. Her eyes are wide, one hand pressed to the glass, the other to her chest. Concern is written all over her face.

There’s a fair amount of confusion too.

The rage inside me cools just enough for reality to settle in. Chey has no idea some asshole used her to get under my skin. And I don’t want her to.

River skates past the box and catches my attention.

“You good?” he mouths.

I nod once.

It’s a lie, and he knows it, but he lets it go.

I wanted Chey here tonight so she could see this part of my life and feel included. So she could sit in that suite, wearing my jersey, and know I meant it when I said this was real. Instead, I’ve given her a front-row seat to me losing my shit. With my forearms braced on my knees, my gaze stays locked on her.

The penalty clock keeps ticking down, but my focus never strays from her. The only thought running through my head is that no one gets to touch her.