I didn’t even have to look him up. I knew he was rich and successful just by looking at his photo. And he was what a rich, successful woman like Sidney Stahl wanted in a man. I had no doubt that I could seduce her, but I knew it would only be physical. And she’d probably regret it afterwards.
But I only wanted a physical relationship, so I couldn’t figure out why I’d turned into a whiny bitch all of a sudden. For most of the trip, I spent my time thinking about the mistakes I’d made in my career. By the time we reached Alabama, all the guys knew I was in a mood. I was usually moody on game days though and didn’t talk to anyone, so they didn’t think anything was different. My playlist ran through my earphones and I spent the trip getting into game mode.
By ice time, I’d shaken off my funk. We were playing the Oilers, a team we had a longstanding rivalry with. I wanted to come out fast and strong. Scoring early was important against this team.
Once the formalities were over and the anthem was sung, I got ready for the opening puck drop. I had to face off against Adam Brotz, an asshole I wanted to fight with every time we played his team. The ref stood between us, holding the puck in the air, looking at the announcer’s box for the okay to drop it.
“Heard the Ice Queen bought your team,” Brotz said to me. “She must have a thing for losers.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
Brotz laughed. “She’s fuckin’ hot, man. I’d like to melt the ice between her legs.”
I shoved his shoulder and he slid backwards, losing his balance.
“Have some fuckin’ class, asshole,” I said as his back hit the ice.
He scrambled up and barreled into me, grabbing a fistful of my sweater. It was on then, and the puck hadn’t even dropped. The crowd roared to life as Brotz and I traded blows.
“Come on, man,” Liam said from beside me. “Get the puck on the ice.”
One of Brotz’s guys had a hold on his shoulder and we both glared at each other, silently agreeing to delay this altercation for a few seconds.
When the puck finally dropped, he hooked it and shoved into me. We threw down our gloves at the same time and traded a few more hits. By the time I got to the Flyers’ penalty box, I was breathing hard and tasted blood. I slumped onto the bench, drowning out the comments from the Oilers fans seated in the rows behind me.
“You wouldn’t know a winning record if it walked up and bit you in the ass, Bosch!” Brotz yelled from his team’s penalty box.
“You all pissy ‘cause you can’t get any, Brotz?” I hollered back. “You find out that size actually does matter?”
He gave me a murderous look. “You ready? You ready for more?”
I put my hand up to my ear. “Can’t hear you. What?”
“I’m gonna fuck up that pretty face, Bosch.”
“You say something? I can’t hear you. You’ve got such a soft little voice, man.” And so we passed two minutes of penalty time.
As the final seconds ticked past, the timer’s hand was on the lock to my box, and as soon as the timer hit zero, he threw the lock and I bolted out. Brotz was on me, and I shoved him off and raced down the ice.
His comments about Sidney and our losing record had pissed me off more than he realized. We’d win this game and then I’d rub his shit-talking nose in it.
Our goalie Shuck was made of lead tonight. He was slow and didn’t seem to care. The Oilers scored when the puck slid right past him. It was as if there had been no one in goal.
By the time we got to the locker room at the end of the first period, we were down 3–2 and I didn’t know if I was more pissed at Brotz or our shitty defense.
“The fuck is your problem, Shuck?” I demanded. “Wake the fuck up. You’re killin’ us.”
“I know, man. My knee’s bothering me,” he said.
“This ain’t the fuckin’ Ice Capades. Get your shit together.”
Orion took over, riding Shuck’s ass for several minutes. I took the ice pack our trainer held out to me and put it on my shoulder.
“We need to pull this one out of the toilet,” I said to Bennett, who sat beside me on the locker room bench.
He nodded silently, looking as if he was a million miles away.
“You alright, man?” I asked.
“Huh?” He turned to me. “Oh, yeah. I’m okay.”
I got my mind back into the game as soon as we returned to the ice. It was a battle. My body ached all over by the time we hit the locker room at the end of the third period, having won 6–5.