Page 76 of Snapping the Ice
My heart bloomed with emotion. “I’m not worried. I know that.” And deep down, I did. And fuck, I loved Lucas. I never loved Tate. Everything about my relationship with Lucas was what I’d been missing.
A Giants forward, deep into the first period, carried the puck toward the net.
Mason hopped from his seat. “Come on, Lucas, get that guy.” He pumped his fist.
“Sit down, Mason.” Jett pulled on Mason’s sweater.
With a smile, I watched Mason’s intensity. I’d seen it in Lucas, too. I swung my gaze at the game.
Lucas sped toward the Giants forward, hunching low on his skates.
Another Giant player threw himself at Lucas, pushing him onto the ice.
Sprawling on his belly, Lucas slid and smacked the boards.
“Penalty! Call a fucking penalty ref!” Mason growled and stepped to the edge of our box. “It was a penalty, right, Jett? Lucas hadn’t touched that fucker, and he didn’t have the damn puck.” Standing with his legs spread, Mason rubbed his chin.
The play continued with a Giant shooting at the net. The puck flew across the ice. Our goalie dropped, but the horn blew, and the net lamp flashed.
“Fuck!” Mason stomped his foot. “That never should have happened.”
Jett rose next to him. “Babe, calm down. Maybe the Coach will call a review?”
Holy shit, Mason was furious. Would he be in a bad mood for the rest of the game now? I scanned across the ice for Lucas.
On his knees, Lucas made his way back up onto his skates, looked our way, and shook his head.
Glowering, Mason fell into his chair and leaned toward me. “See, Lucas should have been able to check the Giant’s center there, but their fucking winger clipped him. That shouldn’t happen.” He tsked. “If I’d been on the ice with him, that winger would catch hell from me.”
Jett faced me and, with a snicker, said, “He means he’d start a fight.”
“Yeah? How much fighting do you do in a game?” I glanced at Lucas, now skating to his bench. At least he wasn’t injured. I’d seen little fighting in the other games I’d watched.
“Not enough.” With a huff, Mason crossed his arms. “Right, babe? Not enough.”
“Mason here likes a good fight. I’d say he fights a littlemore than most players.” Jett patted Mason’s forearm. “But usually, the guys deserve what they get.”
“I haven’t seen Lucas fight in a game yet.” Maybe his position was different? My gaze flicked to the rink. The Giants winger skated by Lucas and slapped his stick out of his hand. “Oh, shit.” Maybe I’d spoken too soon.
Lucas sped after him, grabbed the Giants’ winger by the neck and threw him onto the ice.
“Way to go, bro. Hell yeah.” Mason whistled and clapped. “Show him who’s boss.”
The Giants winger rose and threw off his gloves.
“What’s going on?” I shifted to the edge of my chair, my eyes wide. Wasn’t anyone going to stop this?
“What’s going on? Lucas is giving him thewhat-for.” Cackling, Mason fisted his hands and punched the air.
I darted my gaze from Mason to Lucas, now spinning around the forward with his fists held high. Considering their rough play, maybe I should have let Lucas take a swing at Tate. Hell, it would have been satisfying as fuck to watch him lay Tate out.
“Mason, you’re scaring Ezra.” Barking out a laugh, Jett pushed Mason’s hands down.
A ref skated between them, breaking up the fight. Lucas pointed at the Giants’ winger and then picked up his stick and skated to his bench.
Ticking his head, Mason said, “You’ll get an ear full tonight about that dude. I guarantee it.”
“Yeah? And how should I handle it?” I sipped my beer. For now, the drama was over.
