36. Josie

36

JOSIE

" Y ou know this is my first time going to an actual game," Lydia said as we all made our way through security.

"Wait, you've never been?" Mila turned around to look at Lydia with disbelief.

"Don't worry, we'll pop your hockey cherry," Tasha added as she hooked her arm through Lydia's. "Josie's boyfriend got us great seats, so you'll enjoy it."

My face flushed at her words.

I still can't believe Wyatt Boone is my boyfriend.

You'd think after officially being a couple for two weeks that I'd be accustomed to it now, but no. Just the mention of his name was still enough to make me giddy.

The four of us made our way inside the arena, huddling together to make it through the crowds. It was already insane inside, which made sense with the Knights being on an eight-game winning streak. Ever since Coach changed Crosby's position, the team was unstoppable.

After a couple of away games, the team were back on home turf, and the locals came in hordes.

Flashing our tickets, we walked all the way down to the boards to our seats. We were positioned just a few feet to the side of the goalie, giving us a great view of the entire rink. We were in the direct line where all the action would happen—something both Mila and I were stoked about.

Shuffling down the row I caught sight of two familiar faces.

"Josie!" Mateo called out, causing people around us to look over. Next to him Landon head turned in our direction. The two of them were seated behind us instead of all of us in one row.

When the four of us girls stopped in front of them, I watched Mateo's eyes widened. He looked from Tasha to Lydia to Mila and then to me.

"Woah." His reaction came as no surprise, it was the same look most guys got when they met Tasha; even Trevor had the same response. Both she and Lydia were beyond gorgeous. It didn't help Tasha wore a pair of tight leather pants and a bright red tube top showing off her tanned skin, her long, blonde hair cascading down her back.

"Landon, Mateo, these are my friends, Tasha and Lydia." I gestured to the two of them. "Landon and Mateo are Wyatt's brothers."

"Obviously I'm the better brother. Nice to meet you" Mateo winked. I glanced at Landon, finding him staring at Lydia. As Lydia looked at him with an approving expression, I had a sudden thought that maybe I shouldn't have introduced them.

Lydia will chew him up and spit him out. But then again I've seen Landon hold his own.

In the last few weeks, I'd come to learn more about Landon, and he was just as hard-headed as Lydia. They were both as stubborn as all hell, completely immovable once their minds were made up about something.

Landon gave her a cool nod before looking past her at the rink. As Lydia frowned slightly at the dismissal, I quickly nudged her towards her seat.

"What was that about?" Tasha whispered.

"Not a clue," I replied.

We took our seats, with Lydia at one end, followed by Tasha, Me and then Mila, with Mateo and Landon behind us.

"Why didn't Evelyn come?" I asked Mateo over my shoulder.

"With the team playing the Blizzards mom knew not to come."

"What's wrong with the Blizzards? " Tasha asked.

Mateo grinned and leaned forward. "Let me tell you darling." Both her and I raised our eyebrows at the endearment.

"The Blizzards and the Knights have a lifelong rivalry. Every time they play each other, someone gets into a huge fight," he explained. "Usually more than one."

I already knew of the rivalry, but hearing Mateo say it made my stomach churn. Wyatt can't get hurt again, he's finally back to his old self.

"Bryton told me about some new player on the other team that's known for getting in fights every game, regardless of who they're playing," Mila added.

"So, basically a bunch of men fighting to show dominance," Lydia supplied.

"Have you never been to a game before?" Landon suddenly asked, though it came out more like a taunt than a question.

"No. And?" Lydia turned and looked at him, her eyebrow haughtily raised, seemingly impervious to Landon's intimidating stare.

"Don't worry if they come too close. I'll protect you beautiful ladies," Mateo butted in, cutting the tension. I grinned at Mateo. The kid knew no boundaries. Personally, I found it funny and by the grins on my friend's faces I could tell they did too. If he was older, it would be a different story.

A few minutes later, the stadium lights dimmed, and the start of the game was announced.

"Damn, they're playing rough tonight," Mila said, both of us wincing as one of our players took a particularly hard hit. I knew the Blizzards and the Toronto Knights were rivals but watching it in person was a whole different thing.

At first, the Knights were playing friendly-ish, but the Blizzards instantly came out of the gate with hard hits. Hits that the refs should have called them out for. At almost every turn, they slammed our players into the glass or tripped them.

Wyatt managed to avoid some of the harder hits, mostly thanks to Trevor and Bryton. The two did their jobs covering Wyatt, but damn, they took some nasty blows. The last guy who'd slammed Bryton hard into the wall, had Mila out of her seat, screaming at the ref. I didn't blame her at all. It felt like the refs were blind.

"Ow," I groaned, closing one eye as I shrunk back in my seat. "That had to hurt." It was hard to watch as one of our players was slow getting up off the ice. Everyone around us booed and yelled as the ref ignored what was an illegal hit.

The players barreled down the ice as Bryton expertly handled the puck in front of him, Wyatt and Trevor right by him. It was still incredible to watch the three of them play together, like they were one and knew exactly what the other would do next. All three moved on the ice so fast, weaving in and around players as they neared the goalie.

I held my breath, Mila beside me doing the same, as Bryton brought his stick back and flicked it forward. The speed and precision were as spot on as Wyatt's. I lost sight of the puck as it flew towards the goalie, a mess of players in the way.

A small cannon sound echoed around the arena, followed by deafening cheers. Score. Unbelievably, I could hear Mila's screams above those of the crowd.

"I sleep with him!" she screamed, and the two girls sitting on the other side of her sent her weird looks. Of course, Mila didn't give a shit as she cheered her boyfriend on, not afraid to tell everyone Bryton belonged to her. It was one of the things I liked about Mila in the short time I'd know her—she was unapologetically herself.

Turning my attention back to the ice, my eyes landed on Wyatt immediately. I probably should've paid more attention to what the other players were doing, but I only had eyes for my man. It was hard not to when he looked so good in his uniform.

Also, the fact I know he looks even better out of it.

I was so busy thinking of all the ways to congratulate him on his win tonight, that I almost missed the two players hurtling towards us. Yanked from my thoughts, I realized one of those players was Wyatt.

With wide eyes, I watched in horror as one of the Blizzards players violently slammed Wyatt against the plexiglass in front of me. The boom that sounded from the impact shook my bones as the plexiglass rattled. I wasn't even thinking as I stood up and banged the glass with my fist.

"What the fuck!" I slammed the glass over and over as I yelled. "That was an illegal hit, you asshole!"

I could barely see the guy's face underneath his helmet, but I knew he was staring at me.

"Play like a fucking adult you piece of shit!" I honestly didn't know I was capable of the anger I felt, but the thought of anyone hurting Wyatt infuriated me. A tapping on the glass turned my attention away from number 46, and as I met Wyatt's blue eyes, I felt my rage abate.

He grinned at me from beneath his helmet as he gave me a thumbs up, letting me know he was fine. I hadn't realized the ref had blown the whistle and that we were drawing a slight crowd, until I felt Tasha tug on my hand. Feeling a little embarrassed, I took my seat. Yet, as number 46 glared at me, I couldn't refrain from mouthing fuck you .

My hands shook and my right one throbbed from hitting the glass.

"Damn, Josie. Going all she-hulk," Mateo joked behind me.

"He had it coming," I huffed, crossing my arms.

"Don't touch her boyfriend," Tasha nudged my shoulder teasingly. I should have felt more embarrassed than I did, but seeing Wyatt hit like that did something to me, even though I knew it was all part of the sport.

The game continued, the hits still harder than necessary, as the clock slowly ticked down. The Knights led 3-1. I watched as Wyatt moved into position on the ice, number 46 in front of him. From where I sat, I couldn't see much, but it looked like one of them was talking.

A sinking feeling appeared in my gut as number 46 shifted forward a little.

Nothing good will come of this.

Seconds later, Wyatt dropped his stick and launched himself at the player. Wyatt's gloved fist slammed into the side of his helmet and the two of them fell to the ice, Wyatt's helmet flying off. One second everything was calm and the next players from both teams were throwing punches at each other, refs whistles sounding off as the crowd went crazy.

Jumping to my feet, I pressed against the glass, trying to find Wyatt amongst the throng of limbs and sticks. I felt helpless as I watched Trevor and Bryton pull Wyatt away from number 46 as players from the other team did the same with their own teammate.

Behind me, Mateo and Landon shouted, but I couldn't make out their words over the crowd. Coach Barnum stood in the box, screaming at his players, but no one listened. Tensions were high the whole game and whatever happened between Wyatt and number 46 simply lit the fuse.

Moments later the refs managed to separate the two teams, the players holding each other back as they continued shouting at each other. As some players skated off the ice, I finally saw Wyatt, still restrained by Trevor and Bryton. Still missing his helmet, I was horrified to see blood running down the side of his face and lip as he smirked at number 46.

For a split second, the sight of Wyatt all aggressive, dripping blood and smirking made my heart race.

Something is so wrong with me that I find this hot.

I pushed the thought from my mind as Wyatt shook off Trevor and Bryton's hold and skated off the ice.

"What the hell just happened?" Mila asked. "I haven't seen Wyatt lose his cool in a long time."

Frowning, I recalled that he had a reputation for being a hothead when he was first drafted, but after proving himself in his debut season, he'd settled down.

Until now.

"Wonder what that was about?" Mateo said behind me, but none of us had an answer.

The ref announced both Wyatt and number 46 were ejected from the game and the entire crowd booed in response.

"I'm going to go check on him. I'll text you guys later," I said without taking my eyes off Wyatt.

"Of course. Go make sure he's okay," Tasha nodded.

As I slid out of the aisle and made my way up the stairs, I could feel eyes on me. After my outburst, Knights fans would likely wonder who I was to Wyatt.

It took me only a few minutes to make my way down the hallway leading to the locker room, flashing my security pass to the guard as I passed. I stopped in front of the locker room doors, forcing myself to take a moment to compose myself.

"Wyatt?" I peeked my head in looking around. The room was a lot messier than the last time I was there. Gear, bags, clothes strewn about. Hearing the sound of something slamming, I cautiously entered.

Wyatt stood in front of his cubby, throwing his gear inside. I could only see the side of his face, but I could tell he was angry.

"Wyatt?" I said quietly.

"What are you doing here, Josie?" He didn't look in my direction. Ignoring his curt tone, I walked over to him.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," he hissed, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and yanking them on.

"Want to?—"

"I don't want to talk about it, Josie," Wyatt snapped, finally looking directly at me. His injuries looked much worse up close. There were nasty cuts on his lip and on his eyebrow and his right eye was almost swollen shut. "You should go."

"Give me your keys."

"What?"

"Give me your keys," I repeated firmly, holding out my hand. I'd caught a ride with the girls to the game and there was no way I was letting Wyatt drive looking the way he did. He just stood there staring at me, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

"Don't make me say it again, Wyatt." I knew he was angry over what happened on the ice, and he didn't mean to snap at me the way he did, so I tried not to take his tone to heart.

I also knew I wasn't leaving.

As though sensing my resolution, Wyatt shook his head, grabbed his bag off the ground and came towards me. His keys dropped in my hand as he brushed past—could practically feel the anger coming off him in waves.

Without another word he led us out of the locker room towards the back door to the players parking lot. I stayed silent, letting him have his moment.

Thankfully, no one was around as the two of us silently made our way to his car. I knew at any moment reporters and fans would appear, eager to know what initiated the fight between Wyatt and number 46.

While he threw his stuff in the backseat, I got in the driver's side.

Biting my tongue, I put the car in reverse and quickly sped out of the parking lot. The silence between us made my skin itch with the need to fill it, but a quick glance at Wyatt glowering out the window kept me from speaking.

Coach would be beyond pissed after what transpired during the game, and I hoped Wyatt wouldn't be in too much trouble.

You're dreaming. Coach will rip him a new one.

The ride back home was painfully slow as the tension in the car built. As soon as I parked the car I half-expected Wyatt to jump out of the car. Instead, he waited for me to get out first.

During the ride up to Wyatt's apartment in the elevator, my frustration grew. I understood that he didn't want to talk about it, yet, at the same time, as his girlfriend I felt that he should be able to talk to me.

At least say something. Anything.

I wanted to be the person he told things to, leaned on. Isn't that what being in a relationship is about?

As we entered his apartment , Wyatt threw his stuff down near the door, prompting me to break my silence.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

"I'm fine," he said curtly.

"No, you aren't. Let's get you…"

"I said I was fine, Josie!" Wyatt yelled before he turned on his heel and started walking away. My entire body tensed as memories of my ex flashed through my mind. For a moment, I felt myself instinctively curl up, the sense of worthlessness rearing.

No. I'm not that girl anymore. I will not let a man, even Wyatt, speak to me like that.

"Wyatt Arthur Boone!" My voice was low and lethal, and for a moment I doubted myself. But then he stopped and slowly turned around.

"I will not tolerate being talked to like that. Do you hear me? I let it slide the first time but that was your one free pass. I know you're angry, but I don't deserve to be spoken to like that."

When he said nothing, I raised my chin and spoke again.

"I said. Do. You. Hear. Me?"

The dark cloud in his expression passed and his shoulders dropped as he nodded. Realizing just how far he crossed a line. Wyatt opened his mouth to speak, but I held my hand up to stop him.

"We are getting you cleaned up," I stated, leaving no room for argument. I brushed past him and made my way upstairs to his bedroom where I'd spotted a first aid kit in his ensuite. I could hear his footsteps on the stairs behind me.

Smart man.

"Sit." I pointed to the toilet seat as I rummaged under the sink. Wyatt obeyed and I could feel his eyes on me as I grabbed what I needed.

Wetting a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide I moved to stand in-between his legs as he tilted his face up towards me.

"Josie, I'm—" I cut him off by pressing the cotton ball to the cut on his eyebrow. He immediately hissed and closed his eyes. I pulled away after a second and he blinked up at me.

"Okay, I deserved that." I avoided eye contact by wiping the now dried blood from his face. "You're right. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, you didn't deserve it, and I am so sorry, Josie."

I gave him a small nod as I cleaned him up.

"I promise you I will never speak to you like that again. I swear."

I finally met his eyes, brimming with guilt, and I knew he was sorry. I felt proud that I'd stood up for myself. It had been a long time coming, but I was no longer the same girl I was in Uni.

"Good," I replied, softly tilting his chin up as I wiped at the blood from his lip. His bottom lip was swollen, the cut quite big. The one on his eyebrow wasn't as bad, but it looked like it hurt—and his eye turned blacker by the minute.

"What happened on the ice?" I asked softly. I felt his jaw tense under my hand.

"That dick, he…"

I stayed quiet, letting him gather his thoughts as I reached over to grab some ointment.

"He kept making comments about you." His voice was full of venom, and I could feel him tense.

"What kind of comments?" I asked slowly, unsure that I wanted to know.

"I can't…I can't." Wyatt shook his head. Judging by his reaction, the comments weren't nice, and I decided it was best to let it slide for now.

"I'm sorry I got in a fight." Our eyes met again as he looked up at me.

"I'm not mad about the fight," I said, softly dabbing the ointment on his cuts. "From the sounds of it, the asshole deserved it." Cupping his cheek, I bent down to look at him better. "I will never be mad at you for defending me, Wyatt." And I meant it—his actions meant more to me than he knew. "What I am mad at is how you treated me afterwards."

His eyes looked away from mine, a glimpse of shame in them.

"Don't take your anger out on me. Let me help you get rid of it. That is what relationships are about."

"I know. I'm sorry." He raised his hands and rested them on my hips. "I was so caught up in the fight, I was blind to everything else. I'm sorry for pushing you away."

"Good, because I'm not going anywhere." My thumb softly brushed across his cheek. "But next time…hit him harder, okay?"

Wyatt laughed loudly, grimacing with pain at the same time.

Now there's the man I'm falling in love with. Even bloodied, he's the most gorgeous man I've ever laid eyes on.

"Next time," he promised, grinning up at me.