Page 24 of Forbidden Hockey

“Looks worse than it is, Tra—whoa kay.”

Trav yanks me out of the throng, turning my arm over to inspect the damage. Without warning, he drags me to the sink, shoving my arm under cool water.

“Travis, I’m fine. He barely nicked me.” That’s not exactly true. It’s not a deep cut, but it’ll need some care. He’s gotta calm the fuck down, though.

I’m treated to a searing glower that definitely means,I’ll be the judge of that.He grabs the closest clean towel and wraps it around my surface wound.

“Alderchuck,” he says to the nearest one—Stacey. “Watch the floor for me.”

I have no choice but to follow Trav to the back or else lose my arm. The blood’s already stopped by the time he’s maneuvered me into a chair. He pulls out the First Aid kit.

“You’re overreacting.”

“He coulda killed you.”

“Jack almost did the same thing to you the other day; all he got was a mild scolding.” I regret bringing it up as soon as I say it. The flirtatious wink comes to mind, and I flush all over again. Thank fuck he’s distracted.

But Trav knows as well as I do that even though this time ended up in some blood and the other time didn’t, the level of potential danger was the same. They got lucky, and so did I. He’s stone silent as he cleans me up, carefully wrapping a gauze bandage around my forearm.

I flex and extend my hand to show him everything’s in working order. “See? Surface wound.”

“Yeah, looks okay.”

“Exactly, Trav. I could work the rest of the night if I had to.”

“That’s good because you are. Todd’s going home, you’re taking over his section.”

“Trav, be for real.”

His jaw ticks, the silence speaking for him. Wow, he’s not budging on this. “I’m gonna speak to Todd, you can go back to work.”

So much for a Saturday night off. I storm through the kitchen on the warpath and back to the bar area. The bussers and hosts steer clear of me.

Dash is at the bar top, stacking drinks onto his tray, doing a great impression of Travis as he shoots Stacey death stares. His expression softens when he sees me. “You okay, Dirky? I saw Todd slice you.”

“One hundred percent fine. Your dad totally flipped, though. Did you see how he reacted?”

“I think everyone saw, man. That was awesome. He totally came to your rescue.”

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t need rescuing.”

“Still, he did. You’re one of his, so he’s protective of you. Bet he fires Todd.”

“That’s crazy talk. He’s not gonna fire Todd,” I say. “Jack did the same thing the other day—he almost ran Trav right through. All he did was scold Jack.”

Dash laughs, but it’s half scoff. “You can’t see the difference? He’s far less concerned about danger to himself than he is to you or me.”

Ugh, so maybe he does consider me the same way he does Dash.

That’s good.

No, it’s fucking not.

I’m never gonna win that argument with myself.

Todd rushes from the kitchen, clutching his backpack, face red.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Dirk,” he says on the way by, but he doesn’t stop, breezing out of the restaurant.