Page 212 of Pucking Around

“Go away, Rachel,” he growls.

I nearly run into him as he stops cold in the doorway to the locker room. “Jake, what—”

“What the hell did you do?”

I peer around Jake’s shoulder to see Caleb standing in the middle of the empty locker room, looking at Jake with tears rimming his eyes.

“I had to,” Jake croaks. “Cay—”

But Caleb doesn’t wait. He spins on his heel and limps out of the room.

“Jake,” I say, my hand on his arm.

He jerks out of my hold. “I’m fine, Rachel. Go back out there. The team needs you.”

“Coach told me to check you out—”

“I’m fine.” He jerks his helmet off and slams it into his stall.

I put my hands on my hips, watching him tug off his gloves and throw them down too. “You’re not fine. You’re so angry, your hands are shaking. What happened out there? You just went feral on that guy—”

“He fucking deserved it!” he shouts, spinning around to glare at me.

With his helmet off, the cut on his brow is more pronounced. It’s bleeding down his temple. My gaze drops to his knuckles. They’ll swell up something awful, but I doubt anything is broken. He’d be making a much bigger fuss if he had broken fingers.

“Come with me,” I say, holding out my hand.

“I need to change.”

“You need your forehead to stop bleeding first,” I say, dropping my hand to my side. “You change now, you’ll just be giving the EMs double the bloody laundry to wash.”

He lifts a shaking hand, wincing as he dabs at the cut. “It’s nothing.”

Damn bull-headed Taurus.

“Are you a medical professional?” I say, one dark brow raised. “No.I am. And Coach sent me back here to take care of you, so that’s what I’m gonna do. Now, get your ass across the hall into the exam room so I can clean that cut.”

With a growl, he stomps off. This isn’t my Jake. He’s been body snatched by aliens, I swear to god. He marches across the hall into the small room we use for first aid. Balanced on his skates, he leans against the exam table, arms crossed.

I turn away from him, washing my hands at the sink and slipping on a pair of blue surgical gloves. Then I grab the first aid box. Stepping over to Jake, I set it down on the exam table next to him and start cleaning the wound.

“Take whatever time you need to collect yourself,” I murmur, dabbing away the blood. “But youwilltell me what happened out there tonight. As you love me, and I love you, you will tell me what’s wrong with you, Jake…and Caleb.”

“Rachel,” he says on an exhale.

As if speaking his name is a summons, Caleb reappears in the doorway, arms folded tightly over his chest. He glares at Jake. “I told you not to fucking do anything.”

“I had to,” Jake mutters, not looking at him.

“No, you didn’t—”

“First rule in hockey!” Jake barks, brushing my hand away from his brow. “He hit my goalie. You want me to just let that go unanswered? I’m his D, Cay. I have to have his back out there!”

Caleb shakes his head. “You were gunning for Marchand all game. Making nasty checks, pissing him off. You goaded him—”

“I wanted tokillhim!”

“Compton!”