Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
At this point, knowing that my wife will let me keep her, I’m ready to go. I’ve never felt this good playing hockey, and I’m being beat to shit. I know it’s because I’m playing with a team that knows my worth, that sees past my sins. I want that. I love this feeling, and I’ve earned it.
Once we hit the bench for the start of the third, Coach calls for the line that I’m on with Wes McMillan and Flynn Anderson. As I skate to center ice, I notice that Barnes is skating toward me.
Fucking hell.
He deliberately brushes against me, hard, and I’ve had enough. “Let’s go, bitch.”
The most sinister grin slides over Barnes’s lips as I go to drop my gloves and twig, but he slams his shoulder into mine. I go to swing, but the ref catches me before I can, calling us for roughing. Fuck. Barnes is thrashing against the refs, looking like a wild animal rather than a respectable hockey player. That can be the problem when AHL players come to the NHL. They forget that the NHL is for the discipline, not the idiots.
“Just let it go,” I call at him as the ref pulls me to the box.
“No way,” he seethes as he tries to go for me again, but the ref holds him back. “I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Wow, that’s dramatic,” I taunt. “Did you kill your wife for having my cock down her throat?”
He comes for me again, and yeah, that was an asshole move. I sit down and ignore Barnes as he throws snide remarks and more threats my way.
“Maybe I’ll find your wife and fuck her.”
I chuckle at that and beg myself not to let my possessiveness of my wife explode onto the ice. “Unlike your wife, my wife doesn’t need to suck another dude’s dick to get off. Maybe worry more about giving your wife what she needs and less about me, and she won’t step out on you.”
Well, I tried.
He roars from the other box, and like the asshole I am, I laugh. I lean on my thighs, squirting a sports drink into my mouth as I watch the game. The score is tied at zero, but the Assassins are the better team. Problem is, the Krakens’ goalie is in ninja mode. Nothing is getting past him, but we don’t give up. I watch the clock and decide I hate getting put in the box. I start to get cold and lazy just sitting here. Plus, my mind won’t stop. I want to be out there, playing with my team. The fight had to happen, though. I had to put Barnes in his place.
Enough is enough.
When the box attendant stands with ten seconds left, I do the same, ready to hit the ice since the Assassins are currently fighting for the puck in our zone. When my time runs out, I haul ass out of the box and toward the other side, away from Barnes so he can’t stop me. Thankfully, Anderson knows what I’m doing and sends the puck up and right on my blade. I see Barnes coming, and I know it’s now or never. I pull back, leaning all my weight into the motion before I let my twig go, the blade smacking into the puck and sending it toward the goal. The goalie throws up his glove, and I know he has it. But he doesn’t time it right. It bounces off the side of his glove and ricochets in behind him, despite him hurling himself back to try to stop it.
The goal light flashes, and I throw my arms up.
Holy fuck, I scored.
The crowd loses their minds, but before I can even put my hands down, I’m kncoked off my feet. I watch as the world turns while I do a somersault in the air. Pain radiates from my side, and when I land, I slam my head into the ice. It all happens so quickly. I feel a snap, pop, and then I hear the crunch. Pain explodes through my leg, up my hip, and my stomach turns. I cry out from the pain, my body shaking as I glance down to see my leg at an angle it’s not supposed to be at. Pretty sure my skate shouldn’t be close enough for me to see that well. Realizing that I’ve snapped my leg in two, I promptly puke as trainers rush to my side. My head is pounding and my vision is blurry as everyone tries to talk to me, but I feel like I’m drowning.
Blackness creeps in from the sides of my eyes, and then I’m out.
CHAPTER 42
Eliza
“Can I say that I think there might be a bad omen for players coming up from the Bears to the Assassins?” Louisa asks, and I know she’s just trying to keep me distracted. “I mean, I end up in the hospital after Ciaran’s first game, and now Coleson. Like, that’s unsettling. Wait. Maybe we’re a bad omen…”