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Isaac

S he was the most aggravating, annoying, offensive and frustrating woman I’d ever known.

And I was motherfucking obsessed with all of it.

As I stood on the ice, spinning in a circle and watching her insult me with each of her posterboard-created chirps, I couldn’t help but laugh. I wanted to pick her up, carry her somewhere dark and quiet, and go to town on her ass for daring to, well, dare me in this way, but at the same time, it made me laugh harder than anything had in a long time.

The horn sounded, signaling the end of the first period. Jack skated over to me, followed by Judah, Levi, Asher, and Lawson.

“She’s not fucking around, is she,” Jack observed.

“She’s a hell of a chirper,” Asher laughed.

“She could teach us a thing or two,” Lawson agreed.

Asher slapped him on the shoulder.

Lawson was our other goalie, and although Jack had once beaten him up during a game because he thought Lawson had made a move on Aviva, the two had buried the hatchet. It was pretty obvious that Lawson wasn’t into Aviva; he’d had some girl back in high school he’d never gotten over, even though he wouldn’t give any of us details.

I couldn’t focus on my team’s ribbing, though. I was too busy staring at Tovah in the stands, her face above the sign. She grinned at me, a little sassy and a whole lot sexy.

“Isaac, come on, Coach wants us in the locker room,” Jack said.

“He’s too busy eye fucking Tovah to listen to you,” Judah laughed.

Judah was right. She was beautiful, there in my jersey, a little sweaty, her bright blue hair curling up around her temples, her face bare of makeup, nose stud sparkling under the lights.

And there was a man next to her.

Some older guy.

Touching her.

I watched, my vision going from a normal clear to a red mist as the asshole tapped on her shoulder and started shouting at her. I didn’t have to be able to hear him to know the words were vile.

“Isaac, man, breathe. Breathe, brother,” Judah was saying. “Tovah can handle herself.”

Except that asshole had grabbed hold of the collar of her jersey and was yanking on it.

The monster, who had been happily chilling out while I played, sat the fuck up and growled. And before I even fully realized what I was doing, my hands were on the boards and I was vaulting over them, running up the stairs in the stands until I reached her.

And then I—or the monster, or maybe even both of us—was grabbing the bastard by his collar and ripping him off Tovah, throwing him on the ground and straddling him so I could punch his fucking face in. I was yelling something at him, I wasn’t sure what, but there were definitely words coming out of my mouth. I kept hitting him, even though he curled into a protective ball and begged me to stop, even though people were shouting, even though Jack was grabbing my shoulder and trying to pull me off him.

I didn’t care. Because someone was trying to hurt what was mine , and that someone was going to pay for even thinking of touching a goddamned fucking blue hair on her perfect head.

“Isaac,” a husky, feminine voice said. Her voice. “Stop. You need to stop.” Then: “I’m okay.”

The red mist cleared and the roaring quieted. I realized where I was—kneeling on top of some random fan, my gloves off, my hands covered in blood—his blood.

I rose on shaking legs, looking down at the man groaning underneath me. I’d broken his nose, for sure, maybe some teeth, too.

All I felt was satisfied.

“You don’t talk to my girl that way,” I told him, my voice low and shaking with leftover rage. “You don’t touch her, either. I don’t care what kind of insulting sign she’s holding in the stadium. You ever get near her again, I’ll kill you.”

“But I’m your number one fan,” the man sobbed in some kind of confused pain.

“Isaac.” Coach said. “You’re out of the game. Locker room. Now. ”

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “I figured.” I grabbed Tovah’s hand. “She’s coming with.”

Coach started to argue with me, then sighed. “Ms. Kaufman can wait in my office while I talk to the rest of you,” he agreed.

With that, I tugged Tovah by her hand and she followed me and the rest of the team down the stairs and through the hallway toward the locker room. I was aware of the whispering, the shocked silence of the crowd during what should’ve been a chaotic intermission, but I ignored them. I ignored everything but the comforting assurance of her small, soft hand in mine as I led her into the locker room and away from anyone else who could possibly hurt her.

“He’s lost his fucking mind,” Asher muttered to Lawson.

“Happens to the best of us,” Lawson laughed ruefully, following us inside.