Page 84 of Rulebreaker

Then he lets out a long, low breath, his eyes close, and the monitor he’s hooked up to lets out a soft but distinct beep.

The hospice nurse rushes in, leans over Stan, and shakes her head. She slowly straightens up and turns off the machine before glancing at me. “He’s gone, Ms. Maxwell. I’m sorry.”

I nod, dipping my head and letting the tears fall unchecked.

Dammit.

I hate to cry but it seems like that’s all I’ve done the last day or so.

I’m not even sure who or what I’m crying over–the death of a man I stopped loving a long time ago or the death of the love I thought I found with Atlas.

TWENTY-NINE

Atlas

Bang!

The boards rattle, the impact loud in the empty rink.

My opponent’s grunt and curse at me is just as loud.

“Fuck, Atlas!” he growls as the puck squirts free.

I ignore him, just give him one more shove before I corral it and skate off, hauling ass to the net.

The guys don’t make it easy on me, even though this is supposed to be a friendly match–but then again they’re not blasting people into the boards like I am either.

And I don’t feel the sticks slashing over my forearms, the shoulders connecting with mine, the shoves to my back.

Nope.

I’m purely focused on the goal.

Because maybe scoring will make me feel something–or make me feel anything instead of the frigid anger, so cold it’s sunk itself into my cells, frozen them in place.

Frozen me in time.

She’s married.

Fuckingmarried.

“Fuck,” I hiss, bobbling the puck. The ice surrounding me shudders under the pressure of that thought—something that’s helped along by another slash, this time hard enough to send pain radiating up my arm. I glance to the side, see Banks’s angry face, and regroup, getting control of the puck again, driving hard to the net.

Banks chases me down, but I’m fueled by rage, by fury, by?—

Hurt.

Clang!

My shot glances off the post and collides with the boards, but when I pivot to grab it, I suddenly find myself face down on the ice, Banks’s big ass body on top of mine, both of us sliding several feet before we come to a halt.

“Enough,” he growls when I fight him.

But the man is big and strong…and he does this shit for a living.

I have no chance of bucking him off, not even with that frozen rage fueling me.

“Go!” he snaps, and considering that I’m still eating fucking snow, I can’t see who he’s talking to.