Page 115 of Snow, Ice, and Spice
This is only my second game back since returning to play for the Bashers, and already I’m faltering, showcasing all my flaws like a fucking peacock. I need to get my shit together.
Pain radiates through the center of my chest. When I breathe, no matter if it’s deep or shallow, it kills. It’s not the chill in the air. It’s not because I’m exhausted from running my ass off. It’s not because of the countless hits I’m taking from the other team.
It’s the pain of losing Maya.
It’s been just over a week since she broke up with me, and I can’t stop thinking about her. How much I miss her. How I should have tried harder to convince her to give us a chance. How I should have told her I loved her…maybe that would have made a difference…
My throat aches as I swallow back the rock that’s suddenly appeared in my throat. I think back to the game when she was in the stands, cheering me on, wearing my jersey. And now she’s gone.
Another sharp pain rockets through me. I shake my head. I need to focus.
I run my ass off to catch up with Del. Did he up his training the last couple of months? I don’t remember him being this fast before. Jesus.
Del is trailing his teammate Mac Guilles, who’s got the puck and is headed for our net. I know that if he can’t set up a good shot, he’ll pass it to Del so he can try and score. I can’t afford to lose him.
I speed up, ignoring the fire in my quads. Isaac appears from out of nowhere, covering Guilles, so he does what I thought he’d do and hits the puck back to Del. A split second after the puck lands against his stick, I check him.
Del lurches forward and the puck goes flying, losing steam a dozen feet in front of our net. Dylan is all over it and takes off across the ice. I turn to follow him, but then Del shoves me.
“What the fuck was that, asshole?” he barks.
“Fuck off,” I mutter as I push him back.
He shoves me again and I stumble back on the ice.
“You wanna fucking go, Thompson? I’ll happily kick your washed-up ass, you fucking has-been.”
The adrenaline coursing through me suddenly feels like I’ve been injected with jet fuel.
It’s not a shocker that Del would insult me like that. If he had said that to me at a prior game, I would have just ignored him and skated off.
But right now I’m broken. I lost Maya. The one thing I’ve got left is hockey, and he’s shitting on it. He wants to show me that I don’t belong, that I don’t deserve to be here.
“What wrong, Thompson?” Del taunts with an evil smile. “Aww, the has-been is too scared to fight.”
Fury shoots like hot lava through my veins. I toss my stick and gloves on the ice. Del does the same. The entire crowd hops to their feet, slapping the boards, screaming for us to fight as we circle each other.
My heart thrashes against my ribcage. It feels like it’s on the verge of exploding out of my chest. I can’t think straight, I’m too pissed, too hurt. Before I know it, my fist connects with Del’s scruffy jaw.
He lets out a grunt that I can’t even hear because the crowd is deafening. It’s no secret that hockey fans go nuts for a good fight, and that’s exactly what they’re getting right now.
Del retaliates with a punch to my left temple. Pain blasts through the side of my head, clouding my vision with white bursts, but I keep hitting, keep punching. With his free hand, he rips at my jersey. I’m punching him with both fists now. Half the time I get his padding; half the time I get his face. Between grunts and breaths, I call him every cuss word I can think of. He does the same.
After what feels like minutes, the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. He must have landed a hit to my mouth. It’s hard to keep track in this frenzy of fists and profanity.
It’s weird. As much as it hurts, it’s a relief to feel the sting of these hits and punches. My body will be bruised and cut up after this, but it’ll heal.
My heart won’t though. That’ll be ripped to shreds for a long fucking time.
Emotion surges through me as I land one last punch to the side of Del’s jaw before we fall to the ice. Hockey rules generally allow a fight to go on until both players fall onto the ice. Once we’re on the ground, the linesmen pull us apart.
Out of the corner of my swollen eye, I see red jerseys swarming me.
“Holy fuck, dude,” Dylan says. “That was brutal.”
“Yeah. Wow.” Isaac lets out an uneasy laugh. “You were a beast.”
I wipe the sweat and blood from my eyes. I can barely see out of my left one, it’s already so swollen.
