The whistle blew and she sat down, moving over as Logan slid in beside her. She grabbed her Gatorade and took a big gulp.
“Kinda weird tonight,” he said casually.
Plumes of air blew out his nostrils as he looked onto the ice. His profile was as yummy as the rest of him, and Billie followed his gaze toward center ice where the referee was about to drop the puck for the second time.
“Yeah,” she muttered softly. “I’m not sure what’s going on.”
Seth Longwood had stayed out for the second shift, and he shot daggers her way as he bent low and prepared to draw for the puck.
“Give ‘em hell, Billie.” Someone shouted behind her.
Logan glanced at her, his expression serious. “These guys are out to get you…you know that right? Especially if you chip away at their pride for the entire game.”
“They can try,” she said carefully, not sure where this was going. “But I’m not worried. It’s no contact.”
“You think guys don’t get hurt? There’s a lot of shoving out there especially when the game gets intense.” He motioned toward the other bench. “It’s gonna get intense.”
“I think that I have more of a chance of getting hurt walking down the street than I do playing in this league.”
“What about your concussion?”
“What about it?” she replied belligerently. The word alone was enough to sting and it sure as hell wasn’t something she wanted to discuss with him. “I’m fine. My doctors say I’m fine.”
[i]I should be in Sweden[i].
For a moment Logan said nothing and eventually she looked away. There was a scramble in front of their net, with Seth at the center of it. For a guy who’d packed on more than a few pounds, he moved surprisingly quickly and his hands were still really good.
He snapped off a quick shot but the Angry Pirates goalie, Pete Tortolini, made the glove save and the whistle blew. It was time for another shift change.
Billie stood and Logan followed suit. He leaned close just as they were about to exit the bench and a shiver rolled down her spine. “I’ve got your back, Billie, but play smart.”
“I won’t change the way I play for these guys.”
She then stepped out onto the ice and proceeded to ignore Logan’s advice for the entire game. She pointedly ignored Logan’s glare, until he gave up and switched shifts halfway through the third period.
She didn’t even notice, not at first—she was in the zone and every time she looked at Cronkwright, or skated past Longwood, she tried even harder to excel. Something dark twisted inside her.
Was it sportsmanlike to make fools of the other team? To stick handle the puck around grown men and make them look like hacks? Hell no, but in the heat of the moment, with so many of them hurtling insults at her—ones that would make a sailor squirm—she didn’t give a rat’s ass.
Billie never thought about the consequences—not even when she got caught in the corners, with no back-up and Seth Longwood breathing down her neck. The Whalers fore-checking had worked and they had her where they wanted her. No longer was this a lighthearted Friday night game—if it ever was.
The puck was between her toe and the boards, while she was boxed in on all sides by three Whalers. They poked with their sticks, trying to get at the puck and she hissed in pain as the sharp end of one stick found its way to the unprotected area on her calves.
“Not so peppy now, are ya’ darling?” She didn’t know who spoke, but used her stick as leverage to keep from being pushed into the boards. She ignored the jaunts, wondering where the hell her teammates were, when another jab on her calf brought a yelp, but it was nothing compared to the pain she felt when someone shoved their stick up her jersey, and a ragged piece of blade caught the soft skin under her arm.
“Jesus Christ,” she swore as she tried to grab her side, the puck forgotten.
“Move the fuck away,” Logan yelled, just as Seth Longwood’s voice echoed in her ear.
“Go play somewhere else, bitch. You don’t belong here.”
Suddenly, the whistle blew signaling the play to stop, but she wasn’t free until there were several more long moments of swearing and maneuvering behind her.
Once she was able, Billie whirled around, eyes blazing, adrenaline pumping and itching to nail someone in the nose. She needed to hit something—anyone would do as long as they were blue and orange. She spied Longwood.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
For his part, Seth lowered his eyes. “Shit, Barker, I didn’t mean…”