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Edge(58)

By:Brenda Rothert


He sneered behind his shield when he saw me coming. I hit him with all my weight and we both tumbled into the wall.

“Missed you, sweetheart,” he muttered.

“Fucking pussy.” I grunted and slashed him with my stick.

Dammit. That was gonna land me a slashing penalty. London slashed right back, seemingly as eager to fight as I was.

It was hard to focus on the game. All I could think about was where he was and how I could get to him. We traded blows back and forth, and I was sore and tired by the end of the first period.

When I collapsed to sit down on a locker room bench, my coach, Jack, leaned down to yell in my face.

“I get it, Hudson! Can you possibly play some fucking hockey now? It that too goddamned much to ask?”

Sweat rolled down my face as I shook my head no, too beat to speak. I’d released some tension sparring with London, even if I hadn’t finished fucking him up yet.

I iced my aching body, but it didn’t help much. When I got up to head back out, I was hurting. Not that it mattered. I hit London every chance I got, and my line covered for me. Jack couldn’t bitch because we were up 3-0.

That ended up being the final score, and I was a mess of cuts and bruises when I headed for the locker room. I was in the tunnel when I glanced over and saw Dell, her face twisted with concern.

I went over to the wall she stood against, smiling as well as I could with a fat lip. “You’re here.”

“You’re hurt.” She reached into her purse and pulled a cloth out of a bag, wiping the blood from my lip.

“Don’t wanna taste my blood when I kiss you?” I teased.

“I’m worried about you. You were gunning for it tonight.” Her scolding mom tone was kinda hot. “You need to ice and get looked at by your trainer.”

I arched my brows, cringing at the burn of the cut in one of them. “I was hoping you’d look me over. Maybe back at my room. Ryke’s my roommate, but he’s sleeping on the couch in Vic’s room tonight.”

“Luke. I’m concerned about your ribs after that hit in the second period.”

I grinned at her. “I’m fine, baby. I’ll look a hell of a lot better when I get a shower.”

She reached up and cupped her hand around my cheek. Damn, she was beautiful. Her hair was a little wavy and she wore a v-neck shirt that allowed me to see the curves of the tops of her breasts.

“You look really good to me now,” she said, a smile dancing on her pink lips. “And I’d love to look you over in private.”

I leaned down, wanting to kiss her so badly. But I was a sweaty, bloody mess, and I had to get into the locker room. Still in my skates, I towered above her, but she leaned up on her tip toes and kissed my chin, about the only clean spot on my face.

“I thought that was you. The fuck is this shit?” an angry male voice demanded. We both turned. John London was glaring at us.

“Fuck off, London. I’ve still got plenty of juice but I’d much rather see my girlfriend than you right now.”

“Girlfriend?” He advanced, and it wasn’t me, but Dell that he was speaking to. She looked from him to me with a grimace.

“John—”

He glared at her and interrupted. “You’re a fucking hockey puck, Dell. Passed back and forth between hockey players for a quick, lousy lay.”

Disbelief quickly morphed into rage inside me. Fuck the consequences. I barreled into him, shoving him against the opposite wall with all my weight. His breath flew out in a rush from the force of the hit.

I heard Dell telling us both to stop, but there was no way in hell. London had crossed the line from on the ice enmity to a gloves off street fight.

There were reporters and some arena staff in the tunnel, but no one dared approach us. One of my eyes had swollen shut, but I only needed one to see well enough to pound London anyway.

“Fucking prick,” he sputtered, punching me in the gut. I connected with his jaw and then he hit mine. I tasted blood, which only fueled me.

“Don’t ever talk to her again.” I grunted with the effort of shoving him to the ground, where I jumped on top of him. I couldn’t see Dell in my peripheral vision anymore, but maybe it was due to my swollen eye.

“Kinda fucking hard when we’ve got a kid together,” he said, choking on the last words as I punched his gut.

I froze for a second, shock washing through me. “What? You’re Kyler’s father?”

“Yeah. I’ve had a claim on her for six years, asshole, so back the fuck off.”

His words just pissed me off even further. He was the one. He’d taken Dell’s optimism and smashed it. He saw Kyler once a month and left everything else to her alone. And he didn’t fucking deserve to be in the same room with her, let alone … I couldn’t even think about it.