Page 109 of Rules

Brook lifts her chin, her lips pressed in a tight line. We stare at each other, looking to see who’ll break first.

I’m not sure what the hell is going on, but I know I need to figure it out. And fast.

Sighing, I move closer, and my hand cups her cheek. I can feel her flinch at my touch, but she doesn’t pull away. Her eyes fall shut, swallowing hard.

“What is going on, Brook?” I ask, this time softer. “You know you can talk to me.”

Her teeth nibble at her lower lip nervously as she shakes her head. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?” I take a step back, her words, barely louder than a whisper, like a punch to my gut.

“I thought I’d be able to do it. Whateveritis between us, but I was wrong.”

“Brook…” I call out, but she doesn’t listen.

“We’re just too different. You have hockey to concentrate on, and I… I’m a mess.”

Green eyes look at me, pleading with me to understand, but I don’t even think I can wrap my head around what she’s saying.

“What are you trying to say?”

“We have to stop this.”

“This.” I point at the space between the two of us. “Didn’t even start and you’re already giving up?”

“Trust me, it’s for the best.”

I open my mouth, but no words come out. What is there to say? She is giving up on us before even giving us a chance.

Turning my back to her, I run my fingers through my hair, pulling at the ends in frustration.

Fuck it.

“Brook…” I turn around, but she’s not there anymore. “Fucking hell.”

* * *

“Dammit,” I grit through my teeth, my body still vibrating from the impact.

With no time to lose, I get back to the game, chasing after the sucker who sent me flying into the Plexiglass and stole the puck right from under my nose.

This game has been a blood bath since the very first second. With a spot in the tournament on the line, both teams were giving it their all to be the winners once the final buzzer sounds.

We’re in the final minutes of the third period, and if we don’t score soon, we’re done. Anger and adrenaline buzz in my veins, making me push harder. I’ve been on edge for the last couple of days, and this game has proven to be a perfect outlet for all the pent-up energy I have.

I look around, my eyes zeroing on the black rubber flying over the ice. The fuckers are so confident in their leverage, they almost lazily shift the puck back and forth.

Idiots. This game is far from over.

Pushing my way through, I see one of our D-men shoving away a St. Jonah’s player. He stumbles, stick connecting to the puck, but there is no real aim or force behind it.

Skating harder, I intercept the puck just before he regains his balance and go straight for the goal.

The goalie sees me coming, and he gets in position, his eyes zeroing in on me as I approach. I can feel the guy closing in on me from behind, but I don’t dare even glimpse over my shoulder.

It’s now or never.I grit my teeth as my stick connects to the puck and sends it flying.

A red light flashes as the buzzer signals the goal.

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