Page 2 of Puck’N Enemy (Thunder Knights #2)

Dylan

I neither hear the whistles nor the referees’ yelling.

While everyone was still engaged in the chaos of chasing the puck, I saw Logan going down like he’d been shot.

One second, he was hovering by the net, and the next, he was lying on the ice.

Coach shouts my name but I seem to have lost the ability to respond to anyone. All my focus is on Logan, who’s lying by the net, his left leg spread out at an odd angle.

Logan’s helmet has shifted, giving me a glimpse of his pale face and sweat-soaked dark hair. An expression of intense pain is etched on his face, reminding me of a memory that’s haunted me all these years.

I’d run so I’d never have to see this same look on Logan’s face again.

But the moment I cross paths with him again, he gets hurt.

Something breaks inside me at the sight of him barely moving.

I don’t stop to think as I skate forward, past the figures in blue and gold who’re starting to swarm around Logan.

“Larson, stop!” Someone shouts, grabbing my elbow, nearly making me lose my balance.

“Reece, let me go!” I shout, trying to throw his hand off me.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Reece hisses, glaring at me. “They’ll think you want to hurt him if you get any closer.”

My heart thunders in my chest as I gasp for breath. “I’ll never hurt him.”

“They don’t know that,” Reece says, forcing me to turn toward the benches. “I crashed into him and the fucker landed on his ass. If you go to check on him, they’ll think you want to kill him.”

“It was you?” I ask, feeling my fear turn into anger. “You hurt him?”

Confusion flickers through Reece’s face. “Why are you getting so worked up about it? I got a chance to go after the Knights’ goalie, and I took it. Their defenders were so focused on their forward, I decided to take out their captain and goalie.”

“You’re an asshole,” I shout, my eyes burning with rage. “How could you do that to him?”

Reece’s confusion deepens. He’s trying to figure out what he did wrong. After all, we’re still on the ice. Everyone’s fair game, especially when you’re playing against your biggest rival.

He’ll never understand the storm raging in my chest.

Logan might be playing on our rival’s team but he’s not my enemy.

I push Reece away, breaking away from his hold. Skating forward, I come to a halt.

Standing helplessly, I watch a group of paramedics lift Logan onto a stretcher. His teammates stare at him anxiously but Logan’s dazed eyes seem to be looking for someone else.

For one split second, his eyes lock with mine.

My whole soul cracks open in an instant.

Logan doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t even look hateful.

He just looks confused and hurt.

Fuck! My hands close into tight fists as I tear my gaze away from him. Everything inside me screams to go after Logan but I know I can’t.

The game is still not over yet. We have to play the third period before any of us can leave the rink.

“Are you possessed or something, man?” Reece’s voice hisses in my ear.

Grabbing my arm, he forces me to follow him toward the benches where the rest of our team is waiting. Coach gives me a stern glare and silently thrusts a bottle of water at me.

Taking deep breaths, I try to calm the storm inside me.

I’m a new recruit on the Silver Bears team. Even though I don’t care about their rivalry with the Thunder Knights, I still need to play and do my best to keep my spot.

Unscrewing the bottle cap, I chug down the cool water and look toward the other side of the rink.

The replacement goalie from the Knights’ team seems young and nervous. Most likely, he’s a rookie.

“Now that Johnson’s no longer playing, it should be easy for us to score some goals,” Petrov, one of the forwards, says with a grin. “Let’s even things out and win this game.”

The Bears respond with loud cheers.

Our biggest opponent on the ice was Logan. With him no longer guarding the net, I know it’ll be a piece of cake to score goals.

When the referees sound the whistle again, I get ready to transform my rage and helplessness into a hyper-focused state of mind.

As long as I’m on the ice, I’m still in control.

Grabbing my stick, I weave among the Knights at blinding speed. Their forwards and defensemen can barely keep up with me as I snatch the puck and head toward their goalie.

Tyler, the replacement goalie, barely has time to react as I shoot the puck in the net behind him.

Goal!

The arena erupts in loud cheers. Colors of green and silver flash among the crowd and people chant my name.

But their excitement and adoration mean nothing to me.

I just have one job to do, and that’s to score goals.

Keeping my focus centered, I go after the puck again.

I score goal after goal, making the final scoreboard flash: 5-3

My teammates gather around me the moment the final whistle blows, signaling the end of the game. They hug me and slap my back, shouting and cheering, but I don’t feel an ounce of excitement at our win.

Now that the game is over, I can finally let myself think about Logan again.

Everyone’s still celebrating by the time we reach the locker rooms.

“Hey, Larson,” someone calls out. “Why the hell do you look like that? Didn’t they tell you we won?!”

I don’t smile. Unstrapping my helmet, I toss it to the floor and proceed to remove my knee pads.

“Oi, Larson,” Reece says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “You really turned the tables for us today. I guess Johnson’s exit gave you the fire you needed to score all those goals, huh?”

“What did you say?” I say through clenched teeth.

Reece’s grin falters at the thunderous expression on my face.

“What the hell was that hit?” I ask, my voice filled with rage and bitterness.

Reece blinks. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb! You know I’m talking about Logan.”

“Why are you losing your shit about that guy?” Reece asks, his voice growing louder. “He should’ve been more careful if he didn’t want to get bulldozed by me.”

“You shouldn’t have hit him that hard!” I shout.

The room goes very quiet. Like someone suddenly cut the power.

I can feel everyone’s stare on me but I refuse to back down.

“You’re seriously getting worked up over the Knight’s goalie?” Reece asks, getting in my face. “His exit from the game is the only reason we won!”

“Logan used to be my teammate,” I say in a clear, cold tone.

“What?” A few people murmur. “Johnson has been playing for the Knights over the past three years.”

“We were teammates in high school,” I say through clenched teeth. “So, it doesn’t matter which team he’s playing for now. I won’t stand around while someone decides to injure him so badly, he has to be taken off the rink on a fucking stretcher!”

Reece looks angry. He’s panting heavily, looking like he wants to say something more.

But the energy in the room has shifted. The celebratory air has curdled into an awkward tension.

Taking a deep breath, I try to calm my rage.

This isn’t the time to make matters worse, especially when this is the first game I played with the Bears. So, I step back and start stripping out of my gear.

Reece scoffs but says nothing.

My teammates start talking among themselves, but the mood doesn’t fully recover. They keep throwing curious, furtive glances at me, probably wondering about my relationship with the goalie from the opponent team.

Taking my jersey off, I shove it into my bag and ignore everyone.

Despite the confrontation with Reece, I still can’t stop thinking about Logan.

I need to see him and make sure he’s okay.

Without bothering to shower, I just throw on a hoodie and grab my phone. While everyone’s busy changing out of clothes or patching up minor injuries, I slip out of the room.

Knightswood University’s infirmary is located across the arena, tucked behind the athletic center. I walk fast, barely feeling the night air seeping through my hoodie.

A couple of fans are still hanging around the grounds, so I tuck my hood lower. Thankfully, no one’s around the infirmary building, allowing me to slip in without any problem.

Should I be here? A voice whispers in my head as I walk toward the reception desk.

“Hello, can I help you?” A middle-aged woman asks, looking up at me.

“Yeah. Can you tell me where Logan Johnson is being kept?”

“Did Coach Sullivan send you?”

“Yeah,” I lie easily.

“Great. Mr. Johnson is recuperating in room 205. Just take the elevators and go to the second floor.”

Nodding, I mutter a quick thanks to her and walk past the reception area.

My fingers twitch at my sides as I reach the second floor. Now that I’m here, I have no idea what to do.

Can I bear to see Logan broken and bleeding again? Can I bear to look into his eyes and see the hatred he feels for me?

I’m not supposed to be in Knightswood. I sure as hell am not supposed to be going near Logan.

But I have to see him. Even if Logan hates my guts, I have to make sure the injury won’t keep him from playing for the rest of the season.