Page 129 of Beyond the Lines
“Dude, I know you’re pissed,” Linc says, placing a firm hand on Mike’s chest, “but this isn’t the place.”
“What place would you suggest?” Mike’s voice is dangerously quiet. “Somewhereelsehe can fuck my sister?”
Rook hovers awkwardly to the side. “Look, I didn’t mean to?—”
“Shut up,” four voices snap in unison.
“Why don’t we all head back to my apartment?” Maine suggests, hopefully. “We can talk this out over some beers.”
“Talkwhatout?” Mike tries to step around Linc, who shifts to block him. “The fact that my teammate—my fuckingfriend—has been lying to my face?”
A small crowd has gathered on the sidewalk, watching us with the gleeful anticipation of vultures circling roadkill. I can almost see the Instagram stories being composed in their heads—HOCKEY TEAM DRAMA—complete with flame emojis.
Mike takes another step forward, and again Linc and Maine pull him back. And at this point, I decide I’ve had enough. While I appreciate the guys trying to defuse the situation, this will not be resolved with Linc and Maine playing human shield.
“Guys,” I say quietly, “I need you to leave.”
Maine blinks at me. “What? No way!”
“This is between me and Mike.” I shrug. “This isn’t a team issue. It’s personal.”
“No shit.” Mike scoffs. “You fucked my sister and lied to my face.”
“I didn’t lie to your face,” I interrupt. “I just didn’t tell you.”
“Oh, well, that’s different then,” Mike says, dripping sarcasm. “My mistake.”
Linc looks between us, clearly torn. “Dec, I don’t think?—”
“I’m sure.” I meet his concerned gaze steadily. “This isn’t going away.”
“This is a bad idea,” Linc mutters, but he finallysteps away from Mike, who surprisingly doesn’t immediately lunge for my throat. “Call us if… just call, OK?”
“Will do,” I say, in a tone that tells them to move it. I appreciate their concern, but their hovering is making things worse.
As Linc and Maine walk off, Rook stays back a second. “I’m really sorry, guys. I didn’t know it was a secret.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him, though it’s absolutely not. But, deep down, I always knew it would come to this sooner or later. And, when the rookie is gone, I touch my lip, inspecting the smear of blood on my fingertips. “What the fuck, Mike? I think you chipped my tooth, dude.”
Mike doesn’t look remotely sorry. In fact, he looks like he’d love nothing more than to rearrange the rest of my face. And, once the others round a corner and can no longer stop him, he advances on me again, shoving me hard. I stumble back against someone’s truck.
“We’re not done talking,” he growls. “And it’s taking all my restraint tokeeptalking and not just put you in thefuckinghospital, Dec.”
“Talking? That’s what you call it?” I sidestep another shove, raising my hands in surrender. “You didn’t say a damn word before your fist was in my face.”
His eyes are volcanic. I’ve seen that look before, usually right before he destroys someone on the ice. “You deserved it,” he spits, lunging for my collar.
I deflect his hand without throwing a punch of my own. I might be angry, but I’m not going to hit him. Even if right now he looks like he’s forgotten we’re friends. But I know that, with Mike, the best way to get him to see reason is to let him blow off steam.
“Fuck, Mike. Just stop.” I sigh, grabbing another poorly aimed punch and pushing his fist away.
“You fucking knew she was off-limits.” His voice cracks. “I made that perfectly clear at the first team dinner.”
Ah. The “bro code” moment. I remember it well. Mike, half a dozen beers deep, ranting about how no one on the team was allowed to touch his baby sister. How he’d personally ensure anyone who tried would regret it no matter who it was or what the circumstances. But I’m not going to apologize for liking Lea.
“Ironic,” I say. “A speech meant to protect Lea might be the very thing that keeps her from someone who actually cares about her. It just happened, Mike.”
“Just happened?” Mike laughs, a sound like broken glass. “What, you tripped and fell into my sister’s bed?”
