Page 68 of Burn

Ronan skates up next to me. “Jesus, he’s huge.”

I push forward, grabbing a puck and barreling down the ice toward the new goalie wannabe. He sees me coming, taking up a wide stance, and when I’m about ten feet away, I draw back, firing the puck at him. It slams into his chest. He pushes it away and brings his hand back to rub the spot I hit, shaking his head.

Wes slides in beside me, laughing, and says, “Don’t get sour because you missed.”

I turn to look at him, my tone low, “I didn’t miss.”

Forty-five minutes, and about ten thousand slap shots later, we call it, motioning for everyone to come in. I watch the guys file off the ice, apart from Anton the Goalie. He pulls his helmet off and takes a drink from the water bottle he stashed on the net. I follow his line of sight all the way to Lex, sitting in the stands. He smiles, a huge, genuine smile at her, and she smiles back.

This guy wants to die.

He offers her a small head bow, then skates toward me.

“Try that again, sweetheart,” I spit at him. He laughs but doesn’t reply. “Keep that up, and the next puck will be aimed to your fucking face.”

He doesn’t slow, moving toward the change room. I have a brief moment where I feel like I won, getting the last word, but he shouts over his shoulder, “Careful, Liberty. Your girl might like me better with my teeth.”

I chase after him, tackling him from behind and pushing us into the change room. The room goes silent as I turn him over and land my first punch. It’s sloppy, and he laughs. The position is awkward, and I pull my fist back to strike again, but he moves faster, shoving me off and climbing to his feet, fists up. That smile is still on his face, and he tosses his head to get his hair out of his eyes.

“Didn’t take you for the kind to sucker punch a guy, but okay. Let’s tussle.”

His fist connects with my jaw, and damn, the guy can hit. Stars explode in my vision, and my ears ring. I shake it off, returning the blow. His next punch connects with my nose, and I feel the warmth of blood before I taste it on my lips. By the time the guys pull us apart, his eyebrow is split open, my lip is split, and my nose feels like it’s busted.

We fall back, both breathing heavily. Anton stares at me, chest silently shaking from laughter, and I laugh. My fucking face hurts, but fuck I needed to get that out, and we both sit there, laughing, like absolute mad men.

“Okay, if you two are done being children, can we get back to business?” Ronan asks.

I shake my head, pull myself up, and offer my hand to Anton.

“Fuck man. You’re in. I needed that.”

He takes my hand with a firm shake and says, “That sounds good. Someone needs to teach you to punch — you throw fuckin’ pillows. I’m happy to assist.”

Everyone showers and changes back into street clothes, and then we announce who will be joining the team. The room is quiet as it clears of disappointed men. I recognize one guy, realizing he’s the guy who approached me in that bar the night I met Lex. He’s tried out every year for the last five years. I pat him on the back as he passes, and say, “Maybe next year.”

I’m an asshole.

“You’re a piece of shit,” Anton laughs.

Fucking hell. I like this guy.

When only team members are left, Ronan and I discuss the year’s expectations, including games, practices, tournaments, and social media. It’s nearly 4 P.M. when we dismiss everyone and walk outside. Anton and I are side by side when we round the corner, and Lex pushes off the wall. Her eyes go wide as she takes us in, and it takes me a minute to remember that I’m sporting a split lip and busted nose. I look at Anton. His eye is swollen, and the gash above it is red and angry.

“What the hell happened?” she blurts, rushing toward me before she catches herself. Her eyes flick between us, a look of confusion and alarm on her face. Anton and I burst into a fit oflaughter. It’s so fucking stupid, and the harder we laugh, the more confused she looks. “Are you two insane?”

I don’t answer, instead stepping forward, slinging my arm over her shoulder, and pressing a kiss into her temple. I glance back at Anton, still quietly chuckling to himself, and say, “Welcome to the team, man.”

“Stoked to be here,” he replies, before winking at Lex, who still looks horrified by our faces. “You should see the other guy.”

Her eyes are glued to my face when she scoffs, “I’m looking at the other guy, and he looks awful.”

I chuckle, tightening my grip on her, and lead her toward my truck.

“Let’s gohome.”

Smile

Lex