He’s been simmering with anger ever since he found out that my BFF Mads is also Miss Rose, the teacher he crushed on in high school and then recently hooked up with. I blame myself. I’m sure they ran into each other at the bar when I didn’t show.
Von is waiting outside the locker room, looking at ease in his gear. He hasn’t pulled his hair back yet, so it’s spilling over the pads and begging me to run it through my fingers. His hair is my second favorite body part. Hmm, maybe third. Fuck, I can’t think of his sexy body parts because it’s not cool to have a raging hard-on while changing in a locker room.
Von strides toward us and kisses me like he can’t wait. I’m breathless and it makes the hard-on situation worse. Then he leans closer to Em and says, “He’s here.”
Em pales and that solves my erection issue. He doesn’t glance at either of us when he nods and rolls his shoulder, walking rigidly through the door. The pungent masculine scent of a hockey locker room is the same everywhere and for me, it’s home. I hope Em finds the same comfort. Von and I flank him as we dress in our gear.
Lars is talking Jayce’s ear off, so he hasn’t seen Em yet. I’m surprised to see Lars but note he’s not dressed for the game. He’d never play with us in season; the retired guys would love to prove they could still take a pro. Von must’ve asked him to come. My heart does a weird skip beat, and I wonder if I’m getting sick.
Surveying the locker room, I notice another current player, which is extremely weird.
Jayce yells Emmett’s name. Em’s ignoring him, facing the locker. Jayce yells louder, but Em doesn’t react.
Jayce is half dressed, charging toward Em, but Von steps in front of him.
“His hearing is fine.” I stand next to Von, shielding Em. “If he wants to talk to you, he’ll let you know.”
“It’s none of your fucking business.” His expression is furious, and he turns to Von. “Or yours.”
“When you yell, you make it everyone’s business,” Von says evenly.
“Alec”—Em gets my attention—“I’m missing leg and elbow pads.” He steps out from behind us.
Jayce inhales as if he’s going to suck all the air out of the room. At first I think he’s enraged, but his pupils are blown and his hand shakes as he runs it through his hair.
“I’ll get them for you.” Jayce’s voice has gone soft.
Em stares him straight in the eye. “I don’t need you to do anything for me. I can do it myself.” His eyes flick to mine. “Where’s the lost and found?”
Jayce strips off his pads and tries to hand them to Em.
“I’m not wearing yours.” Em stomps past him, following me to the office where there’s extra equipment.
“Emmett.” Jayce’s voice pleads, but Em finds other pads and puts them on. Jayce seems defeated, and Em’s eyes gleam with satisfaction and vengeance.
Jayce’s reaction to Em confuses me. I half expected Jayce to throw Em out, not beg him to speak to him or insist Em wear his pads. That's territorial and possessive.
Lars bangs a hockey stick on a locker. “Listen up, assholes. Dylon wants to get back on the ice, so he’s going to ref tonight. He has a broken collarbone, so watch yourselves.” He’s pissed.
I track Von, who’s definitely confused as well. I’ve got an awful feeling about tonight. There’s bad juju in this place, and if it weren’t for the stubborn expression on Em’s face, I’d bail.
Things don’t improve when we get out on the ice. Jayce repeatedly tries to mark up on Em, who switches every time.
Von is poetry on ice. Of course, he can skate. He’s got speed and agility, but Von’s not playing hockey. He’s cast himself as Em’s bodyguard and won’t let Jayce near him. Von’s a fallen angel flying up and down the ice, and it’s one more way I fall harder for him.
During our water break before the third period, Dylon says his shoulder hurts and needs to take a pain pill. He tells us to start without him and asks Lars to ref from the bench.
We’re only a couple minutes into the period when Em goes after Jayce, helmet and gloves off, throwing punches. Jayce doesn’t defend himself; he lets Em fucking throw punch after punch.
Lars’s voice is cold with fury, demanding they get off the ice and figure their shit out somewhere else.
We resume play, but a few minutes later, Em’s yelling, barreling down the tunnel, his full gear and skates impeding him, a drunk bear on the run. “Lars, it’s Dylon. Jayce called nine-one-one.”
We scramble to the tunnel, but Lars is in street clothes and disappears into the locker room before us.
Lars has Dylon cradled in his arms, asking what he took while Jayce is barking orders. We know the drill and don’t crowd Dylon. He vomited blood, and swears he only took a prescribed pain med.
It’s silent but chaos thrums in the air. Em is flinging things out of his duffle bag and then rushes to Jayce’s side. Lars is murmuring in Dylon’s ear, clinging to him.