Page 53 of Racking Up Penalties
“Oh shit!” Tristan nudges me, and I follow his gaze down to the ice, where a tension, sharper than skate blades, cuts through the air.
Ethan and Liam are nose to nose, their bodies rigid, breaths mingling in the frosty air between them. Ethan’s jaw clenched so tightly I can see the muscle ticking from here. Beside him, Liam’s posture radiates defiance.
“Come on, guys, not now,” I mutter under my breath, willing them to back down, to remember they’re on the same team.
I thought we were in a better place after the ski trip.
They exchange heated words that get lost in the echo of the arena. My chest tightens with worry. The last thing they need is to start the season with a brawl.
The argument on the ice detonates into a flurry of flying fists, and my heart hammers against my ribcage. Ethan’s arm cocks back, his knuckles connecting with Liam’s jaw, a crack that echoes through the chilled air. Liam stumbles but recovers, retaliating with a shove that sends Ethan skidding across the slick surface.
“Damn it,” I mutter, my hands clenching into fists of their own accord. This is more than just a spat.
Emma’s quiet, her usual shyness giving way to concern as she watches the scene unfold, her colorful sign drooping unnoticed by her side.
“Hey.” Tristan’s voice cuts through my panic, his hand finding mine steady and grounding. He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
I turn to face him, his deep blue eyes etched with genuine concern. It’s as if he sees straight into the tangled mess inside me, the one where feelings for Ethan are knotted with worry and loyalty.
“Tristan, I—”
“Look at them, Tessa.” He nods toward the chaos, where teammates are now trying to pry Ethan and Liam apart, their faces red, their jerseys twisted. “That anger… it’s not going away. And you’re caught in the middle. Maybe it’s time to let go of whatever you feel for Ethan. It’s only hurting you.”
His words slice through me. Could he be right?
“Letting go isn’t that simple,” I whisper, my gaze flickering back to the rink, where Ethan is being escorted to the bench, his head bowed, shoulders taut with unspoken emotions.
“Maybe not,” Tristan concedes, squeezing my hand a little tighter.
Ice crunches under skates, and the crowd’s roars crescendo into a deafening wave of sound as I force my gaze away from Ethan’s solitary figure on the bench. It drifts across the ice, finding Liam. He’s normally so present, so commanding on the rink, but today he’s a ghost of that co-captain, his movements sluggish, his reactions a beat too slow. His gray eyes don’t hold their usual fierce glint, and his jaw is set, not with determination but with distraction.
“Come on, Liam!” Audrey shouts next to me, her voice breaking with tension. But it’s as if he can’t hear her or anyone else for that matter. He’s encased in his own silent battle, one that seems to have nothing to do with the puck or the players darting around him.
The arena vibrates with the energy of the game, the intensity of competition, and the passion of the crowd.
Liam takes a sharp turn, nearly colliding with a teammate.
The final buzzer pierces the arena with its finality, a cruel exclamation point to the chaos that has just unfolded on the ice. My chest tightens as our team’s shoulders slump in defeat.
“Damn,” Audrey mutters beside me, her voice barely audible over the din of the dispersing crowd. The players skate off, heads bowed, and all I can see is Liam’s profile set in a hard line, the gray of his eyes stormy even from this distance.
I sit there, rooted to the cold metal bleachers, my mind replaying every missed pass, every shot not taken.
Emma reaches over, her hand squeezing mine, a wordless comfort that I cling to. Her boyfriends will be feeling this loss too, and I know she’s juggling her own whirlwind of sympathy and support. “They played hard,” she says, but the words fall flat, swallowed up by the cavernous space and the heavy air of defeat.
“I don’t understand what happened between them,” I whisper, my gaze still locked on the tunnel where the players disappeared, anxiety gnawing at my insides.
“Let’s head out,” Tristan suggests, standing and offering me his hand. But I hesitate, needing another moment to wrap my head around the tangle of concern, confusion, and the piercing sting of disappointment. They’re more than just players on a team; they’re pieces of my heart out there on the ice, and tonight, it feels like we’ve all lost something more than just a game.
I go down to the tunnel hoping to catch Liam or Ethan and find out what happened but by the time I get there, they’re already gone.
“What happened, JD?” I ask him.
“There was drama in the locker room before the game but I don’t know why it turned into a fistfight,” JD tells me, wrapping his arm around Emma.
“Things seemed so much better after the trip,” Tristan says frustrated.
Disappointment spreads through my gut. I thought we had a chance but it isn’t seeming like it anymore.
