Page 74 of Back in the Game (Pride in the Game #1)
There was a collective sound of oooohs and laughter, but Bracken’s shrug was unimpressed.
“Niko just hit his word count for the day, guys. Talk shit about him all you want and he won’t be able to answer.”
Cote flushed, and the flush made Jett laugh more than Bracken’s teasing.
“Hey, pussy!”
The playful vibe died, and all attention turned to Campanelli, who was by his bench, dangerously close to the red line. Jett saw Harrison move from the corner of his eye and held out an arm to stop him.
“Quit crying on the bench like a little bitch. You’re so fucking pathetic—I can’t even look at you.”
It was difficult to hear the conversation over the music and the people, but somehow, without raising his voice, Harrison spoke clearly through the chaos.
“One more word and I’ll call you out for unsportsmanlike behaviour.”
Jett held his breath as he watched Campanelli look from Jett to Harrison, weighing his options. Harrison’s interference wouldn’t change or make things better, but it was his right as a consulting coach to call Campanelli if he wanted to.
It was up to Campanelli to decide if the two-minute penalty was worth the effort, and judging by the expression on his face, it was not .
The buzzer rang, and both teams moved into position again. Campanelli was sizing Cote up as his line went out, and Jett knew trouble was coming.
The Sunbursts had two unspoken rules. Don’t touch their goalie, and don’t fuck with their rookies. It looked like Campanelli was about to break one of those rules.
The arm around his shoulders went rigid, and the entire Toronto bench was silent as they watched the puck drop. Campanelli won the face-off, and his stick went high when he turned to chase the puck, smacking Cote in the face.
Cote, having a sense of what was coming and good reflexes, avoided getting hit in the eye. The blade of Campanelli’s stick struck his mouth, and blood immediately splattered onto the ice.
The whistle was already blowing, but it didn’t matter. Cote went down, and every Sunburst player on the ice turned on the Florida captain.
“He needs to keep his head up!” Campanelli shouted at the ref, not seeing Wolf and Cormier until they were on top of him.
Jett and Bracken both jumped up, but Harrison held the Toronto captain by the back of his sweater, refusing to let him leave the bench. Jett knew if he tried to move, he would receive the same treatment, so he angrily started smacking the boards with his stick.
“Fuck off, Killinger—”
“Son of a bitch! ” Cote’s curse cut Bracken off as he glided toward the bench, taking his mouthguard out and a piece of tooth with it. “Fuck! Fucking bastard—”
Blood soaked the front of his jersey, and someone from medical was holding a towel to his face, but Cote kept shoving the guy away. He walked through the gate, throwing his helmet at the wall as he stomped to the locker room to get checked out.
Whistles were blowing, and punches were still being thrown. Seeing mild-mannered Cote losing his cool had sparked something in the Sunburst team, and now others were jumping the boards to tackle Barracuda players, who were pinning Wolf and Hayes to the ice.
It was an absolute brawl. Jett knew he should be out there, but they needed someone to play the damn game after the dust settled. Powers looked to the bench, and Bracken shook his head, stopping him from getting in on the action for a second time.
Players were slowly being separated, collected and herded to the box. Fans were cheering the spectacle so loudly that Jett put his helmet back on just to have an excuse to cover his ears.
Wolf was fighting the refs as they pushed him to the gate, and still chirping at Campanelli, who was dripping blood all over himself.
“He should have kept his fucking head up!” Wolf hollered, charging through the staff to get to the locker room.
Everyone who had been fighting was sent to the bin, which looked ridiculous as more guys were piled inside. The announcer was having a field day as he watched the chaos unfold, and by the time everything was sorted, Campanelli was being shoved in too, with a towel stuck to his face.
The penalties were called, and Toronto ended up on the power play. Jett looked to Adams to see how the lines would get moved around with half their team in the bin, but then Cote strode past the bench, shoving his new helmet on as he hit the ice.
He turned to look at Jett and Bracken, the stitches sticking out on his dark skin like a beacon. Campanelli’s stick had hit him on the left side of his mouth, cutting through his top and bottom lip in a jagged line.
“Let’s fucking go,” Cote snapped at them, and they scrambled after their feisty rookie.
Jett had spotted what tooth was half-missing—the one between the incisor and canine. He had to be in an incredible amount of pain.
“Isn’t your face numb?” Bracken asked as they met Porter and Ross on the ice for the power play.
Cote scoffed. “Fuck that. I got stitched up without it, so I could come back out.”
Bracken’s eyebrow shot up, and he looked to Jett for help, like he would be able to understand their rookie more easily because they were close to the same age.
Jett shook his head and they got into position, but he didn’t miss Cote’s cringe when he had to force his mouthguard past his injured lips and over his tooth.
They weren’t able to do dick-all on the power play. Cote was playing injured, and the Barracudas were too fired up after their captain got the crap beaten out of him. Beauregarde was back to tailing him, and although Jett hadn’t given up, he had a feeling this game wasn’t going to end with a win.
Wolf had been ejected from the game, and they were only twelve minutes into the opening period. That was a long time to go without their best defenceman against a team like Florida.
When the period ended with Toronto having the only point, Jett wasn’t surprised. A lot of energy had been wasted on fights, and every guy on and off the ice was tired. The fifteen-minute intermission was going to feel like a seven-day vacation.
Jett headed for the locker room, taking his helmet off to shake out his hair as he hit the entrance of the tunnel.
“Jett Fraser, how are you feeling after your long absence from the game?”
Oh, fuck this.
No one had a chance to grab him before he went to the screen, where a social media girl, Stephanie Berry, stood holding a mic out for him. He put on his most flattering mask and leaned in to speak.
“I’m feeling great. The fights were awesome, and the fans here are electric. I know they don’t like seeing us score, but I love how passionate they are.”
Stephanie smiled, and he knew she was about to go in for the kill.
“You had to be shocked after what happened last time you played. You certainly looked like it on the camera.”
Jett could hear Harrison and Coach objecting to the interview, but Jett had this.
He shifted his expression to one of innocent confusion, blinking rapidly in surprise.
“Shocked about the fights?” He put every ounce of charm he had inside his words.
“I don’t think it counts as a good game unless Wolfy spends half his ice time in the bin. Fights are why people love hockey.”
He was being streamed live to the Jumbotron, and he could hear people cheering in agreement with his words.
“I was referring to your last interview when you were asked about your brother.”
More confused blinking. More awkward smiles .
“Oh, you guys are still talking about that?” Jett laughed, and he could see Stephanie’s expression pinch with frustration.
“Sure, it surprised me, but that was two weeks ago. And here I was excited because I thought we were going to talk about the fights and setting the tone here in your beautiful, sunny city.”
More cheers.
Jett grinned, mostly because he was pleased with himself, but also because he wanted to piss her off. She didn’t have to know that his heart was palpitating, and he was two seconds away from vomiting on her expensive shoes.
She couldn’t push without turning the crowd against her, so Stephanie smiled forcefully and nodded. “Thank you, Jett.”
“No problem,” said Jett, his smile widening when he felt Harrison’s hand on him, directing him toward the locker room like an unruly child.
He thought he was in trouble, but as soon as they were out of view of the camera, Harrison leaned in to whisper in his ear.
“I fucking love you.”
The hammering of his heart sputtered into a slower tempo, and Jett melted against him. “I love you too, even if you’re a helicopter boyfriend.”
Harrison grumbled and shoved him into the room.