Luke skated back up to where I was positioned, like he was going to cover me. “Cheap hit,” he spat.
“You’d know about those.” I looked away, clamping down on the ever-present urge to ragdoll him. I couldn’t punch him outright, no matter how much I wanted to.
“Fuck you.”
Knowing it would piss him off more than engaging, I laughed. “No thanks.”
Before I turned to skate away, I knocked Luke’s stick from his hand. It clattered to the ice as I started for our bench. Petty? Sure. Better than beating his ass like I wanted to and getting ejected from the game, though. He shouted something I couldn’t decipher, but I didn’t look back.
Four line changes later, the score was still stuck at three-one. Bulldogs were moments from losing their shit, taking cheap hits left and right on our smallest, least confrontational players. One of our freshmen, a gangly kid, left the game missing a tooth after a run-in with Paul, and still the Bulldogs received no consequence for drawing blood.
Despite my attempts to remain calm, my leash was dangerously close to snapping. Even Dallas was pissed off, and it took a lot to get him worked up emotionally during a game. An all-out fight was imminent.
I was in the offensive zone when Paul grabbed the puck and wound up, taking a shot on Ty. Ty successfully deflected it, and the puck bounced off his pads, ricocheting out of the crease. Penner turned on a dime and skated right for it. From the other side of the ice, Morrison switched directions and headed for the net.
Morrison didn’t have a chance in hell of beating Penner to the puck. He knew it too. But what he was doing was obvious—he was taking a run at our goalie.
The lowest of the low moves.
Apparently, their new motto was if you can’t beat ’em, cheat.
Much as I tried, I couldn’t cross the ice in time. I watched it happen like it was in slow motion. Morrison sped to the net and made a half-assed attempt to stop inches before he hit the crease. He slammed into Ty, bringing him down as he toppled over.
I waited for a penalty call that didn’t come. He was going to get away with it.
Not on my watch.
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 51
OceanofPDF.com
BAD BLOOD
Bailey
I hadn’t wanted to take my eyes off the game, but I couldn’t wait any longer. I’d rushed to the bathroom and couldn’t have been gone for more than two minutes. But when I returned, every member of both teams on the ice was involved in a massive altercation. They yelled and pointed and gestured at each other while the referees stood in the middle, holding players back.
One of those players was Chase. He and Luke were having words—again. Other guys sniped back and forth, not all that worked up, but Chase’s face was twisted in anger, and he was gesturing wildly.
Heart racing, I hurried down the stairs and sank back into my seat beside Siobhan. I tried to time my bathroom break with Chase’s shift change, but apparently, I’d fallen short.
“What happened?” I grabbed my half of the blue and purple plaid blanket we huddled under together for warmth, covering my legs with it.
Shiv nodded to the scrum. “Your ex took a run at Ty.”
My stomach clenched. Of course he did.
“Is Ty okay?” I asked, eyes still glued to Chase. My chest was tight, my breath shallow. What would he do? There was no way he’d let Luke get away with lowbrow action like that.
The ref leaned in and said something to him. Chase shook his head and responded with what looked like a no.
“Yeah, he got knocked for a loop, but he seems fine.” She pointed to the far corner of the ice, where Ty was trash talking Mendez.
Goalies answered to other goalies, but Mendez was soft-spoken and probably not to blame for anything. While some of the players were amped up and reveling in the chaos, Mendez was mostly still and speaking calmly, like he just wanted to get back in the net.
My gaze snapped back to Chase, whose movements weren’t quite so irate. He was still yelling at Luke, but the referee wasn’t straining to hold him back anymore.
“But it’s the principle at this point,” Siobhan added, pulling her hands into the sleeves of her red Falcons hoodie.
“It really is,” I agreed with a nod.
Goalies were off limits. Everyone knew that. Add that to the cheap hit on Dallas, and it wasn’t surprising that Chase wanted to tear off Luke’s head.
The silver lining was that Derek wasn’t on the ice, so I had one less person to worry about.
“Think anyone’s going to take a penalty?”
“Nah,” Shiv said. “No one threw any hits.”
Eventually, the referees negotiated some kind of peace, and the players filtered back to their respective benches. One steered Chase toward the Falcons bench, but Chase shrugged off the ref’s arm and headed off the ice on his own.
My breathing resumed a more normal pattern and the tightness in my shoulders relaxed a notch. It was almost the end of the second period, so maybe things would cool down during the break. Then there would only be twenty minutes of game time to get through without bloodshed. God willing.
Instead of heading to the Bulldogs’ bench, though, Luke made a sharp turn and skated over to Chase, who was halfway to the Falcons bench. They were side by side on open ice, separated from their teammates and the officials.
My heart leapt into my throat.
Luke leaned in close and made a comment. Chase shook his head, and they had a quick verbal back and forth. In a flash, Chase’s expression went from irritated to homicidal. He threw his stick, dropped his gloves, and clocked Luke square in the face. Before Luke could so much as react to the hit, Chase grabbed him by the jersey and tossed him onto the ice like he was weightless.
No, no, no.
I watched as the official blew his whistle and sped over to them, wedging himself between their bodies while holding Chase back. Or attempting to, anyway, as Chase pushed against him to get to Luke. A second linesman skated up, trying to help him restrain Chase with limited success.
Luke scrambled to his feet and backed up a few strides, stumbling as he went. He didn’t fight. Ever. Hell, he didn’t know how to fight. Which meant Chase would destroy him and get himself into serious trouble in the process.
Dallas hopped over the boards and joined the linemen, trying to talk Chase down while restraining him. Chase shook his head, all the while yelling at Luke. I had never seen Chase look that mad. There was no way they wouldn’t kick him out of the game. Maybe suspend him for multiple games.
After another split second of watching and praying, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I stood and ran down the stairs to ice-level. “Stop it!” I banged on the glass. I couldn’t get his attention, but I didn’t stop. “Carter!”
Finally, Chase turned and looked in my direction. Our eyes locked, and I made a “cut it out” gesture. “Please?” I mouthed.
He nodded, and he stopped resisting the linesman. Head down and shoulders slumped, he skated off the side and headed for the locker rooms. I climbed the stairs back up to our seats, exchanging a look with Siobhan.
“What the hell just happened?” she asked.
“I have no idea.”
Waiting for Chase to emerge from the dressing room was torture. Like time was moving in reverse.
I’d spent the intermission pacing the concourse with poor Shiv in tow, who had to work double-time to keep up with my strides. I couldn’t help it; I was too wired with worry over Chase.