Page 105 of Hockey Boy
Less than a minute into the game, Boston has a goal on the scoreboard. My heart pounds, and adrenaline courses through me. While I’ve scored hundreds of goals in my career, none have felt better than this one. Because she’s here, and she’s wearing my name on her back.
Every guy has their celly, their celebration after a goal. Some dance, some have a signature move, some just enjoy the thrill of hugging their guys. Me? In high school, my move was all for her. I did it after every goal because she was always there to cheer me on. First as my best friend and then as my everything. Today, she’s once again both.
My moves are slick like Michael Jackson doing the moonwalk. It’s instinct. Like my body has been waiting years to do this again. Not once have I had the opportunity since I hit the NHL.
Turning to the camera, I put my hand on my heart, then bring my fingers to my lips and blow Lennox a kiss. If I knew where she was sitting, I’d point right at her. But in the general direction of where she was headed before the game will have to work.
She knows exactly what that move is. Wherever she is, she’s catching the kiss and smiling. Fingers on her lips, knowing that this goal, like all my future goals, is for her.
With a smile still on my face, I turn, only to find Lukov coming straight for me.
Motherfucker.
“You’re a little late to the block,” I call, skating past him.
He grabs me by the jersey, clearly looking for the fight. “I’ll let you have that one since I stole your girl.”
With a shove, I scoff. “From the way she tells it, you didn’t steal her. You pawned her off on me, hoping I’d pay to keep her. Joke’s on you, though. I’m not Blockbuster. I don’t keep rentals.”
Jaw clenching, he yanks his gloves off and throws them to the ice. Looks like I’ve hit a nerve. He wants this. Joke’s on him again. I’m too fucking happy to fight.
He’s just another bully seeking attention, and I have no interest in wasting any of mine on him.
Unfortunately, the hate he spews next is impossible to ignore.
I spin on him, tossing my gloves too. From thelook on his face, shock mixed with fear, he knows he’s taken this seventy thousand steps too far. I rear back and slam my fist into his throat,aiming for his vocal cords, hoping to do enough damage to keep him from ever speaking again.
“Holy shit,”Sara hisses as we gape at the scene playing out on the ice. Only moments ago, she was screaming about Aiden’s breakaway. During the first play of the game, the Bolts scored, and Aiden blew me a kiss, just like he did when we were in high school. Though I’d love to focus on what that means and maybe even process how it made me feel, I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, clutching my thighs, because some guy just rammed into him from behind.
Sara grabs my hand and squeezes. “It’s going to be okay.”
“It doesn’t look okay.”
I bite my lip as Aiden throws his gloves down and punches the other guy square in the throat. As the man goes down, his helmet flies, and then his head is hitting the ice.
Screams echo around the arena. These aren’t cheers for Boston. They’re a battle cry. The fans want Aiden to pay for the guy’s injury.
“Who the hell is that?” I whisper as we watch to see what happens next.
Rather than climb to his skates, the guy lies on his back on the ice, and as one second bleeds into another, my nerves fray.
“Vincent Lukov,” Sara murmurs, her eyes trained on the ice. “As in the guy Jill was cheating with.”
The tether that held my nerves together snaps, and a heavy weight slams against my chest.
Vincent Lukov. Jill’s boyfriend. As in Aiden’s ex fiancée’s current boyfriend.
Fuck.
My stomach rolls. Aiden rarely fights. He’s the happy guy on the ice. But even from all the way up here, the rage radiating off him is palpable.
Why did he fight him? What did Lukov say to provoke this kind of anger from the easiest-going guy I know?
My stomach twists at the thought. It’s not hard to figure out. The man slept with Aiden’s fiancée. A woman Aiden spent three years with.
I’d have to be a fool to think Aiden is over it. He told me as much when we came up with the fake marriage farce.
I’m offering this as a friend.