Page 59 of Off-Ice Misconduct
I break away like a demon. Even the goaltender knows it’s over.
Because it’s me. I don’t miss these shots.
“This one’s for you, Daddy,” I murmur under my breath as I take the shot, sinking it sweetly in the upper corner.
“Yeah!” Arms out, stick high, I celebrate. The crowd explodes. “Eat it, losers. Get ready to dust off your golf clubs by March!”
The game becomes one retaliation after another, but when Savage goes at it with one of my rookies—with the dirtiest fucking hit in the universe—I snap. I spin, toss my stick, and chase after him. I don’t just fight him; I send a message.
You do not mess with my fucking rookies like that.
Or the Scorpions.
The rest of the team joins me, hopping over the benches, grabbing a dance partner to beat the shit out of.
Fucking Freshman Andy better have his pen out, because maybe I fuck up off the ice sometimes, but never on the ice. Win or lose, Captain Ace McKinnon makes them proud to say I was theirs.
By the time the whistle blows loud enough for me to hear it, my lip’s bleeding—again—my knuckles are raw, and I can barely see out of my left eye. But we held the line, protected our rookies, and our pride. We fought like hell and earned every inch of ice we bled on.
So yeah, if you’re thinking of donating? You’re not just funding a hockey team. You’re backing a brotherhood, a battlefield.
A legacy.
And me? I’m making damn sure it’s one worth remembering.
The after party with Delta Gamma’s mellow compared to that bloodbath of a game. It’s usually a massive event, but with it pared down to keep our end of the bargain, there’s room to walk, mill around the pool—that we’ve already closed down for the fall and winter—and compare battle wounds without having to yell over the noise of the crowd.
Things are chill until Wendy barges into my space. “Where’s Ryan?”
“How am I supposed to know? I’m not the guy’s keeper.”
“The whole point of this smaller shindig was so he and I could hook up.”
Mmmm, not quite. I’m not his pimp, and I don’t do match making. All I did was set up an event. If they meet and like each other, that’s up to them. But arguing with her will get me nowhere. The better option is attempting to find Savage and drag his ass over here. Wendy’s a pretty girl if a little persistent, I’m sure they’ll hit it off for at least a night.
Sigh.
“Lemme see if I can find him for you. Gimme a few.”
Great. Not only am I fucking horny and craving a damn beer, I’m on a manhunt for a man I couldn’t care less about. I meant what I said to Luke, I don’t drink during the season, but what I mean by “don’t drink” is I don’t get shitfaced. I have a social beer, which is what I would have had if he hadn’t banned me. I guess I could still have one—what’ll he do, spank me? I want him to spank me. But, ugh, I want to tell him how good I was, more.
Well, that’s a fucking plot twist.
Before I embark on my manhunt, I take out my phone to admire the selfie he took when he was in the stands watching. The bastard sat in the same seat he had found and spanked me in.
What a romantic idiot. It made me all fucking fuzzy, though.
I asked him how he was supposed to see me from way up there, and he said it was for the better with the way I’m a total menace on the ice. I had to fight the grin for hours. He’ll probably fuss over my black eye, make all kinds of threats, and then put his own marks on me. I can’t fucking wait. Instead, I have to deal with Wendy’s bullshit.
Shep and Huddy are lounging on a sofa. “Either of you seen Ryan? Don’t ask,” I add when I can tell they want to know why. I wouldn’t have an answer for them. Things are good between the houses now, I don’t have to pander to Wendy, but it’s like I can’t help myself. I can do it, so I am.
“Yeah, he’s been gone for a while. He went out back and never returned. We would know, we’ve been here for the last hour,” Hudson says, his tone laced with irritation as he fiddles with the strings on his hoodie. “This is fucking boring.”
“I told you to wander around without me if you wanted to. My body hurts from that fucking game. You try having your body pounded by two-hundred-pound sacks of meat for three periods and see if you can stand upright for very long,” Shep says.
He’s not wrong, but, man, does Shep bicker with everyone? Or is it just his boyfriend and Bender? I get along with Shep well enough.
“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to bicker in peace.” That should end in good makeup sex, right?
