Page 69 of Icebound

He glances over his shoulder with a smirk, then taps the glass with his glove. Before he can open his mouth, Rhode skates over, swoops in like some avenger, and furiously drags Micah away from the plexiglass with so much force that they slam into an opposing player.

The guy tries to punch them, and that turns into a jumble of bodies, resembling a dog pile on the ice. Micah and Rhode roll around, and I can’t believe they’re actually fighting.

Every eye in the stadium is immediately drawn to the collision. The gasps and cheers of the crowd become a thunderous roar, and even the announcer on the Jumbotron can't help but highlight the fight breaking out.

These men are acting like boys. I cup my hands over my mouth. “Stop fighting and get back on the ice!”

Gwen sips her Diet Coke. “I guess they really do like fighting in hockey.”

17

RHODE

“How many times you gonna get run over, Twelve?”

“Blue line’s over there, bud.”

“Nice penalty, Thirty. Attaboy!”

“You gotta hit me harder than that!”

Someone slams into Cruz, and we crumple on the ice. I'm instantly on top, pinning him on accident. This is a goddamn shit show. I can barely think straight with all the jealousy and adrenaline rattling my veins.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I shout in Cruz’s face. “I told you to focus and stop fucking around with Nina!”

“The jersey was a damn joke!”

“I don’t give a shit! I told you not to mess with her.”

“You know I’d never go after her, man,” Cruz shouts, struggling beneath me since I’ve got an extra fifty pounds of gear. “You’re leaving the net open! Get off me!”

Jolting back, I scan the rink. Cruz scrambles out from beneath me, grabs his stick, and skates back to the slot, giving me the finger. I push off some Seattle asshole and jump up. Patty crashes into an opposing player, trips him, and sticks go flying.

What the hell is he doing?

He never gets penalties for tripping. The piercing sound of the whistle reaches my ears, and that’s when I realize Patty is a goddamn mastermind, stopping play so Seattle can’t score.

The ref’s voice cuts through the chaos as he shouts in Patty’s face. I get up on my skates, mentally scolding myself for the stupid move I pulled.

I’m acting like a rookie, not a veteran who’s been skating for over two decades.

“Tremblay!” Coach's voice shakes with barely contained rage as she barks, “You're done for the night. Get your ass to the locker room. I hope I can trust you to keep your damn head straight in there because right now, you're acting like a kid.”

I flinch as I skate up to the boards. She’s right, but that still lands like a blow. “I know. Sorry, Coach. Won’t happen again.”

Coach Watson’s death glare shifts to Cruz. “Sit on the bench. Now. I can’t believe I have to babysit my own skaters like they're children because I can’t trust them not to fight each other on the ice. You’re lucky we’re up, and we’ve got less than five minutes left in the period.”

As I skate out of the rink, head hanging low, Nina’s eyes weigh heavier on me than the weight of the crowd. I dodge her gaze because every time I see her standing there in Cruz’s number, it pisses me off.

Ever since he sent that picture of Nina in his jersey, it’s all I can think about. Those comments he made about how good she looked don’t help.

He’s been throwing out innuendos that hit me like knives. I have no reason to care, but I do, and I can’t stop thinking about what she would look like with my number on her back—better, that’s for damn sure.

With clenched fists, I stride into our locker room, careful to sidestep the Guardian sword logo out of respect, and I’m assaulted by the leather-scented air mixed with the faint undertone of sweat.

I yank off my helmet and go through the routine of removing my gear before slumping against my mahogany stall. My last name glints on the plaque like fool’s gold, teasing me as if I don’t belong.

I normally dominate the net, but tonight, I let my control slip. It's downright embarrassing, especially at my age. I should be the one setting an example, keeping my composure.