Page 156 of Forbidden Hockey

“Hunt, motherfu—” I bite off the curse word when Hunter glares. I can’t help it.

“Do you know him, Dirk? Really know who he is?” Hunter says. “He’s a fucking criminal.”

Trav stands taller, unwilling to be ashamed of his past, which is new. Normally, he’d curl in on himself, get smaller.

“I was,” Trav admits.

“No. Not happening. Not on my fucking watch. C’mon, Dirk. I’m not tellin’ you a third time.”

Fuck. Fuck! This is the moment, the big one where I tell him I’m with Trav, I’m a goddamn adult, and it’s my choice who I’m with.

But I can’t do it. Physically cannot. Looking into his eyes paralyzes me. Everyone thinks this shit is so easy. They make it look fucking simple in the movies, in books, but it’s not. And I know I’m the one who chose to be with Trav, this is my doing and my responsibility. If I didn’t want to hurt Hunter, I shouldn’t have engaged in the first place.

Logically, I get all that. But I wasn’t operating under logic, I was operating under the influence of love.

I take a deep breath.

“Hunter, I love him. It’s him or no one.”

The room seems to pause, no one willing to take a breath or move. The hard set of Hunter’s jaw eases for the briefest of seconds, and the storm in his eyes calms as if he’s about to relent. But the fury returns just as quickly as it left.

Hunter’s face twists, he winds up and—crack—his knuckles connect with Trav’s face. Hunt’s hand reaches for me. Trav, who’s already recovered, shoves, sending Hunter stumbling into a table. Trav’s next to attempt stretching his arm across the gap between me and him, but Hunt’s up, yanking Trav from behind.

Trav only has so much restraint on his baser instincts. He spins, retaliating with a gut punch that redirects Hunter’s breath.

From there, it fucking devolves just like it does on the ice. You’re mad about one thing, but soon enough, you’re mad about another, throwing punches on autopilot while your body continues to inject testosterone into your adrenaline-fueled veins, making the need for blood worse.

The one lone table of regulars—a group of guys my age—turns to watch the brawl, cheering like it’s UFC fight night. I liveand breathe fights, I’m used to it, but not when it’s two of the people I love most, trying to grind the other to dust.

But as a beatdown veteran, I know that the only way to work out feelings like this is physically. It’s been building in both of them, so I stand there like a fucking referee, ready to break it up when I can tell it’s gonna go too far. For half a second, I actually feel sorry for referees.

I even get myself some linemen. Stacey and Dash barrel in the door. “Oh shit,” they say at the same time.

“We got here as soon as we could,” Dash says.

“Dash got a text from Hunter looking for you,” Stace says.

“He found me.” My eyes dart between my brother and my boyfriend. There’s blood now. Hunt’s nose is spouting blood, and Trav’s left eye is gonna have some spectacular bruising. A loud smash crashes through the air, glass breaking as it hits the floor, as Trav throws Hunt across a table that hadn’t been bussed yet. The rowdy table cheers.

Shit, they’re evenly skilled fighters. Just like I thought. But tempted as I am to see who would win, I can’t let them beat each other to a pulp.

“You get Trav and I get Hunt?” I say to Dash.

Even Stacey nods along with that plan. Trav will calm down when he sees Dash, and I’m about the only one Hunter won’t attack. I wait for an opening and slip in, blocking my brother’s fists from reaching Trav. Stacey grabs Trav from behind, Dash jumping in front so he can see him.

“Dad.Dad.It’s me, Dashie,” I hear from behind.

Hunt’s body is a rage-filled coil, ready to finish what he started if only I’d get out of the way.

“Hunt, stop. Please. You’re bleeding.”

It’s only then that he seems to register his gushing nose. He pinches the bridge, and I grab him a stack of napkins from the bar top.

“I knew you working here was a bad idea. Your friendship with him was always fucking weird to me. I told myself that … that maybe you saw him as a father figure.”

Whoa, nope. Never saw Trav like that, ever. I guess I can see why Hunter’s flipping out so hard over this if he’s going there with it. But he’s so,sowrong.

“Why would I need to see Trav as a father figure?” I say, my voice getting all pitchy and watery. Because fuck that. Doesn’t he know what he is to me?