Page 59 of Wicked Ends
I let out a guffaw of laughter at the mental image of Marcus writing out a poem for me. There were men who used flowery words to show you they wanted you, and then there were menwho broke into your bedroom at night and woke you up with a finger in your ass.
“I don’t need all that. Romance is not something I’ve ever been that interested in.”
Wade appeared aghast. “Why not?”
I searched for the words. “Because it’s not honest… sometimes, anyway. I mean, you can say all the pretty words and play any kind of part… but actions speak louder than words. What a man says doesn’t mean as much to me as what he does.”
Wade seemed stumped by that. I turned back to the game. The opposing team was lining up to take a shot at the goal. Marcus watched them approach, his body tense with anticipation. He leaned this way and that, trying to guess where they would aim the puck.
How scary must it be, I wondered, waiting for an entire team of huge hockey guys to come barreling at you? Knowing they were going to shoot something hard and painful at you, and knowing you had to go toward it, not away? My grandpa had always called the goalie position in hockey the loneliest one. I understood why now that I cared about the man beneath the helmet.
Cared about him?I drew in a quick breath, my fingers tightening, and then exploded to my feet with the rest of the Hellions fans as Marcus reached out at the last second and grazed the puck with the tip of his glove, just enough to send it spinning off course and away from the net.
Yes, I cared about him. It was impossible to deny it, even in my own head. My excitement at seeing Marcus pull off an impossible goal save was tempered by watching the fight that kicked off right after. A player for the opponents pushed Marcusin the chest, and Marcus shoved him back. Seconds later, the Hellions were piling onto the opposing team, while a huge defenseman with the name Anderson emblazoned across the back was holding Marcus away from the brawl. The Hellions clearly knew the golden rule of hockey: Protect the goalie.
A weight settled across my shoulders, and I flinched. I’d been so focused on the game, I’d forgotten I was supposed to be talking to Wade. I turned to find his arm around me. I blinked at him, shocked by the move.
“You look cold. It’s freezing in here,” he said, giving me a half-smile that I bet he practiced in the mirror.
“I’m not cold,” I protested and waited for him to move his arm.
He chuckled. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. I have body heat to share.”
A loud whistling from the rink had me turning my attention back to the game.
Marcus had gotten out of Anderson’s hold and into the fight. He had taken his gloves off. That was a game-stopping event. His coach was shouting at him, and all play had stopped. The ref was in his face, but he wasn’t looking at him as he got his ass chewed out.
He was looking at me.
The whistle blew again.
“Shit, five-minute major. He better not get ejected,” Sally muttered beside me.
Suddenly, the atmosphere in the rink was tense. A goalie dropping gloves was a serious matter. Marcus started arguing back with the ref, then Anderson came up behind him and saidsomething. The ref nodded, and the tension lifted. Marcus took his gloves from Anderson and nodded.
“Five minutes in the penalty box, but Beckett is doing it for him,” Bill muttered.
Marcus went back to the goals as Beckett Anderson went to sit in the penalty box. The whistle sounded. and the game was on again.
I remembered Wade’s arm across my shoulders.Ugh.I shrugged it off and gave him a bland smile.
“I’m really not cold,” I said and wondered why the hell I had to act apologetic for not wanting his touch, something I’d never asked for.
You don’t. Stop explaining yourself to people who don’t deserve it. Stop explaining yourself, period.Marcus’ words from the other day ran through my mind. He was right. So right.
“And honestly, I don’t feel comfortable with it. I’ll wear a sweater if I get cold,” I told Wade, forcing myself to meet his eyes.
“Okay, well, suit yourself,” Wade said, clearly annoyed by my rejection of his offer.
I nodded and turned back to the game, my heart racing. It was a tiny thing, a minuscule stand, but it still felt damn good.
Marcus
“Here.”Beck tossed an ice pack from a bucket at me.
I jerked to the side in time for it to miss my face.
“Thanks, asshole,” I muttered, the adrenaline of the game still writhing in my veins. Games were always hard to come down from, but today was on a different level.
