Page 66 of Puck My Life

He shoves me off, his face red through the mask. He swings at me, hitting the side of my head.

The referee gets between us, the black and white stripes filling my vision. Vae brought home a picture of a black and white cat. She really, really wanted a cat, but we always said our lifestyle was too crazy.

Why didn’t I just get her a cat?

I skate back to the bench and sit down heavily beside Mal. He squeezes my thigh.

“What’s wrong with you?”

I shake my head. I don’t even know.

Vae is dancing with another alpha in my head. Over and over. She’s smiling up at him, and I hate it. I can’t stand it.

A hand smacks me in the back of the head. I whip around to rip into whoever did it and find Coach Wallace, who growls into my face.

“Whatever is wrong with you, put it away. We’ve got a game to play.”

I clench my teeth and give him a sharp nod.

Malcolm climbs over the boards, flying down the ice like it’s effortless. He faces off against the Knotted Wolves centre. The two of them crash their sticksonto the ice, the puck drops, and they collide, fighting. The puck slides out, streaking across the ice. It’s picked up, but I’m not paying attention.

The centre, Tobron Marshall, shoves Mal hard. Mal shoves him back. Tobron throws his stick and charges Mal, slamming him to the ice on his back. I stand up, roaring.

The linesman and refs blow whistles, but the fight doesn’t end. Mal and Tobron struggle, hitting each other as hard as they can. I make a move for the ice, but Coach Wallace grabs the back of my uniform.

“Don’t even think about it!” he snarls at me.

The team attacks the Knotted Wolves. It’s bedlam.

We lose 0-3. Of course, we do.

Malcolm had been pulled off the ice after the fight, taken straight down to the doc. I’m anxious to see him, but instead, I take a seat in the locker room, waiting while Coach Wallace walks in. He picks up a glove and hurls it at the wall.

The vein in his forehead throbs as he fights for control.

“Do you want to ever know what it feels like to win? Do you like being losers?”

I flinch.

“You want to see the entire team disassembled? The whole fucking Scented Scorpion dynasty erased by you in one damn season?” The coach roars. “I bled for this team! I put in the best years of my life. I don’t expect you to show up and win every game, but show up with a bit of respect for the players who came before you, for the people who have serviced this club! Respect the sticks you hold in your hand, respect your bloody teammates and, above all, you respect the game and the ice we all love. Or get the hell out of my team now. Because I am done with this bullshit.”

He turns and storms out.

The flat, sick feeling returns to my chest. I love the ice, and I really love this team. I might not be the best team player, but, all my life, I’ve wanted to play for the Scented Scorpions. It was my dream come true. It didn’t matter how much I had to sacrifice or how many hours I spent on the ice.

It was worth it.

Now it’s on the line.

And I’m losing Vae.

Everything is falling apart, and I don’t know how to fix it.

I’m directed straight into an ice bath. I wince as I slide my body into the icy water. No matter how many times I do this, the shock never gets easier. But now I’m in here with too many thoughts in my head.

The team is quiet. No one jokes around; no one really speaks. We do what we’ve been doing since we formed as a team; we go our separate directions. The hostility between us is a living beast growling in the background of every exchange we have with each other.

Being this close to this many alphas makes my skin crawl; it makes my temper sizzle. The stench of our scents fills the air, the glares we exchange, everything is a powder keg waiting to blow.