Page 8

8

I step back into the locker room after the first period and I can’t get the thought of the damn bet that I made with Hastings last night out of my head. It is risky, and I clearly wasn’t thinking when I made the deal with that asshole. I reach out to grab my hockey stick as Bradley takes one final glance at his phone before placing it in his locker. “Oh, damn.”

“What?”

“I guess my sister did come tonight with my parents. I wonder what prompted this change of heart in coming to my games more. Maybe now that she isn’t with Nick, she has more free time?”

I shake my head and begin walking to the entrance of the locker room. “Yeah, maybe.” Bradley mentioning Brooke’s ex- boyfriend makes my stomach flip in the most uncomfortable way.

Gosh, seeing Brooke out in the stands really throws me off at first. Brooke rarely comes to our games and I feel like the past couple of weeks, she has been to more home games than ever before. I don’t hate it, but now I feel some extra pressure to show off a little. I know that Brooke could care less how I perform. There’s no way she could know about the bet, but I have this intrusive thought that she might be here to watch fucking Hastings. That thought fuels me this whole game: my anger for the fact that Hastings is weaseling his way into her life. I need to be the next captain for this team. I can unite the team more than he can, plus I know that I am better than him.

It is the middle of the third period and we are up two to one against Colorado. I am fucking exhausted; I’ve probably been on the ice for longer than our standard minute. Jageilski got a good shot but it was blocked by their goalie. We are advancing and about to score when out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse one of our opponents grab Bradley by his jersey and throw him down onto the ice. Oh fuck no.

I skate over to assess the situation, since that was clearly a foul. But another Colorado player, Paul Nichols – who has been my main nemesis even before Hastings came along – gets in my way. Out of frustration, I push off of him slightly. That’s when he grasps my jersey by my collarbone and shoves me. I am about to shake it off, but he keeps shoving me across my entire chest, throwing me off-balance. In my peripheral I see him take off his gloves. Okay, are we doing this? I am not above kicking someone’s ass on the ice. This might be a good time to take some swings against my opponent rather than take swings against Hastings. I take my black gloves off too and start punching. Nichols will not let go of my jersey, so I grab his jersey and keep swinging. His fist hits my jaw, which gives me the perfect excuse to lay into him. I keep punching him until I feel hands pull my jersey from the back. “Lawson, that’s enough.” Hastings. This asshole needs to get out of my way. I keep punching. Whistles are blowing from the linemen, and one of them wedges in between me and Nichols.

I have to stop.

Nichols finally lets go of my jersey, but Hastings still hasn’t. I’m already pissed off that I am about to be assessed a penalty. Hastings is only contributing to my anger. “Let go of my jersey, Hastings. It’s over,” I command as sternly as possible.

“You always want to be the hero and show off,” he says. “Did your girlfriend Beckett need your help?” I know that he is talking about Bradley, but for some reason Brooke’s face pops into my head.

“God, you’re an asshole, you know that? Just mind your fucking business. And you know nothing about me and Beckett. The way that we operate on the ice. You just joined this team. Fucking know your place.”

“Well, last time I checked, we are on the same level, Lawson. We are both up for the captain’s position. And once I lock it down with Brooke, say goodbye to that prospect.”

That’s it. I grab Hastings by his jersey and throw him down onto the ice. Whistles start to blow all around and the crowd goes wild. Hastings gets up and barrels into me hard and knocks me against the sideboards. He starts swinging at my face and he hits my cheekbone, and I know immediately I am going to bleed. I push off as hard as I can swing back at him. His helmet comes off and I throw a right hook, making contact with his eye. Hastings rips my helmet off and punches me back. A lineman desperately attempts to stop the fight. This is very unorthodox. It’s rare that teammates fight with each other. I wonder what my punishment will be for instigating this fight.

Still, I am not letting down until Hastings does. I am not losing this fight. Just like I am not losing this fucking bet. Finally, Hastings listens to the lineman and lets up. That’s when I relax my hands and let go of his jersey.

“What the hell is wrong with you guys? 92. I’m going to have to assess a ten-minute penalty for both you and 15, and a game misconduct penalty and suspension from one game for 92 for both fights.” Fuck. I know Coach is going to be pissed at me, but I will take his wrath any day. The worst part of all of this is hearing Brooke’s name come out of Hastings’ mouth. It infuriates me more than I’d like to admit.

We both sit next to each other in the penalty box. I look over my shoulder and try to find Brooke in the sea of green and white. She isn’t where I last saw her. She probably left after Bradley got in a fight and didn’t see my fight – well fights – at all. I know how much she hates seeing Bradley get hurt.

“What the hell is your problem, Lawson?” The lines in between Hasting’s eyebrows deepen. I’m sure mine look the same.

“You’re my fucking problem. You listen to me.”

Hastings gives me an incredulous look, almost like he thinks what is about to come out of my mouth is a joke. It’s not.

“She’s fucking off-limits,” I tell him. “This bet is fucking over.”

“Not for me, Lawson. I thought you were a man of your word. And I thought you didn’t care about her at all.” He gives a maniacal and calculated smile. “This is going to be even more fun. Watching you squirm, knowing that you will never have her or the captain’s spot. Does Bradley know about your crush on his little sister? I’m sure he would love that.”

The urge to punch him in the face again surges through my body. The only thing stopping me from doing so is my integrity, and the fact that I don’t want Brooke to get the wrong idea of me. She’s already written a negative narrative about me in her head. I am determined to prove her wrong. I wipe my cheek and see the blood on my fingertips. I hope I don’t have to get stitches.

Once the ten minutes are up, the athletic trainer motions for me to follow him to the locker room to get assessed. As I walk back to the locker room, two thoughts cross my mind: one, Bradley can never find out about the bet and two, neither can Brooke .