Page 314 of Power Play

I shoved him harder. “Fuck you.”

“Say it in Spanish if English makes you feel too exposed.”

I swung before the final word left his mouth.

My fist caught the side of his jaw. Briggs’s head snapped sideways, his cap dropping to the floor as blood appeared where his teeth split the inside of his lip.

He slowly turned his face back toward me and wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. After looking at the red streak across his skin, he met my eyes.

“You done?”

“Not even fucking close.”

“Good.”

He reached into his duffel. I expected another beer, but Briggs pulled out his skates and dropped onto the bench.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you something sturdier to hit.”

“I told you to leave.”

“You did.”

“I meant it.”

“I know.”

“You think driving here means I’m going to unload all my feelings while you sit there looking like an oversized therapy dog?”

Briggs pulled off one shoe. “You think I’m handsome enough to be a therapy dog?”

“Chinga tu madre.”

“Demasiado fácil.”

Normally, the answer would have dragged a laugh from me. Tonight, I kicked the bench hard enough to send his second beer rolling inside the duffel.

Briggs stopped lacing his skate. “If you break that one, I’m hitting you back.”

“Try.”

His head lifted. We stared at each other for several seconds before Briggs stood.

He carried more weight through his shoulders and chest, built like a goalie who had spent most of his life letting people fire rubber at his body and decided the best response was to become big enough to intimidate a puck.

Tonight, I needed every pound of him.

Briggs stepped past me, grabbed his helmet, and opened the gate. “I’m not here to tell you she was right.”

I said nothing.

“I’m not here to explain why she froze.”

My jaw tightened.

“I’m not going to tell you love matters more than what she did.”