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That’s when it happens. He shoves me.
It takes me less than a second to move from shock to rage. The excess adrenaline pulsing through my veins from our game floods my system.
He’s left me no choice. I won’t allow his actions to go unanswered a second time. I have to fight back.
It’s funny, at first it kind of feels like we’re kids again, grappling on the ice over something stupid. It’s all part of the game. It’s part of the reason we love the sport. It’s ingrained into every single hockey player from the time they grip their first stick.
The fans love bloodshed. Right?
I take the first swing. This one’s for Gia. This one’s for his inability to see past his anger and reconcile a broken family.
His helmet hits the ice and skids to a stop somewhere off in the distance. Tyler’s blood speckles the white ice with red.
Tyler looks stunned for a brief second. Then his eyes track to the stands and I know he sees her. I don’t turn my head. I can’t look at her. Shame washes over me because of my inability to control the situation. I made a promise to myself that this wouldn’t happen, It’s too late for regrets though. What’s done is done, and now we have to settle this once and for all.
I hear Coach yelling in the background. Whistles are blown. Fights between our corresponding teams break out around us, and the fans cheer us on. They think it’s a show, and they just got upgraded to VIP. Unfortunately, this is all too real to me.
Somehow, Tyler gets a steady grip on my jersey, and I falter on my skates. I swing again, and miss, catching nothing but air and losing my footing completely.
I hit the ice, hard. The fall is jarring. I’m weighted down with my gear. I’m like a fucking turtle stuck on its’ back in the middle of the highway.
Everything from that moment forward transpires in slow motion. I see Tyler coming down on top of me. I try to roll out of the way, but I’m too slow.
I hear the thud as he lands on me awkwardly before I feel it. Then, I don’t feel anything.
I see blood in my peripheral. Lots of blood. Whose blood is that?
Suddenly, I’m cold. Colder than I should be in my gear. I’m soaked with sweat, but I’m freezing. Tyler is screaming something, but I can’t hear him. The noise fades around me and all I hear is the sound of my heart beating in my ears.
It occurs to me briefly how strange it is to hear your own heart beating.
Blood pools around me, coloring the white ice a dark crimson.
That’s a lot of fucking blood. Those stitches are going to be a bitch. Somebody should call a medic.
I open my mouth, but no words come out. Why won’t my voice work? Huh. I need a nap. Just a quick little nap right here on the ice, and then I’ll be good to go.
The last thing I see before I slowly drift off to sleep is the fear in Tyler’s eyes.
Chapter Fourteen
Gia
Something’s not right.
I’ve been around hockey my entire life. I don’t love sports. I’ve always been more of a creative mind, but I know hockey.
I’ve taken thousands of shots of players over the years. They’re some of my favorites.
Raw, unfiltered emotion. Stills of the body doing amazing things, defying the odds of what should be humanly possible. It’s a beautiful thing to watch, even if I think that the sport itself is rather barbaric.
I grew up watching Tyler and Damien.
I grew up at the rink.
Fighting is par for the course. It’s what keeps the fans coming back for more.
This is different.
