“You just gonna stand there and let me pound your ass, Rhodes?”
“Yup.” That’s the plan. How can I defend myself when my actions were indefensible?
He yanks back his arm before slamming it into the side of my jaw. It feels like slow motion as my head whips to the side and another burst of agony explodes in my face. I stumble back, knocked off balance as my hand slides over my jawbone. I’m almost afraid that one knocked a few teeth loose.
“Put up a fucking fight. I can’t beat the shit out of you if you refuse to defend yourself.”
Even though the right side of my face feels like it’s on fire, pulsating with a life all its own, I jerk my shoulders before lifting my arms and making a come-on gesture with my hands. “Do your worst, McAdams. I won’t fight you.”
My words only seem to piss him off more. With a growl, he slams his fist into my gut. No matter how prepared you are for that kind of blow, it still robs all the breath from your lungs. I grunt and double over before wheezing. Just as I straighten, he catches me in the lip.
Goddammit.
The metallic taste of blood floods my mouth. When it becomes too much, I spit it on the sidewalk.
Some people would say that football is a brutal sport filled with Neanderthals. Clearly, they don’t watch hockey. These guys are a bunch of bruisers who live for the fights that break out on the ice and in the locker rooms. Ryder just so happens to be one of those guys who enjoys a good brawl.
Be it on or off the ice.
He grabs me by the shirtfront and hauls me close. Only now do I become aware of the growing crowd gathered around us to watch the show. A few have whipped out their phones to capture the moment for posterity.
“You better start defending yourself, because I can keep this up all day long. You fucked with my cousin, and now I’m gonna mess you up. Be prepared to kiss your football playing days goodbye.”
The threat must give him pleasure, because a sadistic grin curves his lips.
“I deserve the ass kicking, so just finish it,” I grunt. I’ve spent the last couple of days mentally beating myself up. The physical pain blooming throughout my face and body feels good. Like penance. “I’ve got a class that starts in twenty minutes, and I can’t afford to miss it.”
Confusion flickers across his face, mixing with the rage. He tightens his hold before swearing under his breath and shoving me away. I stumble back a few paces before bringing my hand up to swipe my mouth. Already, my lip feels swollen. It comes away with an ugly smear of blood.
He cracks his knuckles and shakes out his hand. “You gonna tell me why the hell you would do that to her?”
Now that we’re no longer fighting—or maybe I should say, now that Ryder is no longer pummeling the shit out of me—the disappointed crowd disperses.
“Did she tell you what happened?”
His eyes narrow as he shifts his weight. It wouldn’t surprise me if he decided to get in a few more licks. I’ve known Ryder since freshman year. I’ve seen him throw down half a dozen times. He’s always had a quick temper. He’s more of a hit first and ask questions later kind of guy.
“She told me enough.”
I drag a hand through my hair. “I know the situation looks bad, but I really do care about her. I just…” My voice trails off, unsure how to arrange my thoughts into words that make sense.
When I fall silent, he raises a brow, waiting for me to do the impossible and explain myself.
Shoulders collapsing, I shake my head. “I never meant to hurt her. It started off as a couple of texts back and forth before morphing into something more. By the time I realized what was happening, it seemed too late to tell her the truth without losing her.”
“Yeah, well that’s exactly what you should have done, asshole.”
I snort and throw up my hands in irritation. “Don’t you think I know that? If I could go back and make different decisions, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But that’s not possible.”
His gaze turns glacial. “You fucking hurt her, man. Brooke’s a sweet girl. She doesn’t deserve what you did.”
I wince. Hearing him say that is more painful than the beatdown I was just treated to.
“I know, and it fucking kills me.” I stare at him through my good eye, since the other is now swollen shut. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Or her.
No matter what, Brooke is never very far from my thoughts.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” Easton pushes his way between us before forcing the hockey player back a couple of steps and glaring at him. “Is there a problem here?”