22. August

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

AUGUST

I t's the game I've been dreading all season.

Anaheim verses the New Orleans Gators.

Any other game we play during the season doesn't affect me. It's just another game. Another team. But the New Orleans Gators aren't just another team. Not to me. The Gators is the team my childhood rival, Jeff Furbling, was playing for when I ended his career. By all means it shouldn't be a big deal now. It's been seven years since that day. Almost eight. But that doesn't mean I don't think about what happened every single time I play against this team. To him, I'm positive it's a huge deal. It doesn't help that in past years Furbling would ramp up his social media bashing of me during the week leading up to the game. Oddly enough though, this past week has been relatively silent.

Does that make me feel any better about this game?

Not even a little.

It's the guilt.

The whole idea that not only did I land the crushing blow that resulted in the end of another player's career, but that it was Jeff fucking Furbling. He was someone I knew. He was someone I trained with. Someone who went through everything I had gone through to get where we are. Well, were. We were friends way back when, before we became rivals. Before we really knew what competition was. Before we had to compete against each other to prove we were the best. Now he's not on the ice anymore and that's all because of me. Now every time we play the Gators that same sinking feeling comes back like a punch to the gut. I know it wasn't my fault directly. I know I didn't walk into that game planning to hurt anyone let alone end someone's career, but the fact of the matter is it happened.

It all fucking happened.

And as much as I sort of despise the guy now, the guilt of what I did still sits with me.

"Hey." Ella nudges my shoulder at dinner before the game, her brows pinched with worry. "What's going on with you?"

"Huh?"

"Why are you all up in your head today?"

"What do you mean?"

She cocks her head and gives me that don't-shit-me look. "Auggie, you forget I know you inside and out. Not to mention your ice practice this morning sucked. You missed six out of thirteen shots and that's not like you at all."

"You watched practice this morning?"

"Yeah." She shrugs. "I had a meeting with Marlee and then some promo videos to make so I figured I would pop down and watch a bit when I was done. You were kind of sluggish. Even Hicks called you out about it."

"Yeah. He did." I nod not wanting to recount Coach's reprimand.

"So, what's going on?" she asks me, rubbing my back gently. "Do you need to talk about it?"

"Nah." I shake my head. "Just my stupid past punching me in the stomach again."

Realization hits her and she cringes. "Oooh, the Gators." She palms her forehead. "I'm so sorry, Auggie. I was so busy this week I didn't even consider what team we were playing tonight."

"It's okay."

"It's also okay that it bothers you still," she tells me.

"It pisses me off that it still bothers me," I finally confess. "It's been years. What happened, happened. I can't do anything to change it. I've apologized over the years. I've sent gifts, I've donated to charities. Anything I could do to get him the fuck off my back."

"Has it been bad again this year? I honestly don't remember seeing much of anything about it on social media."

"Actually, it's been eerily calm," I tell her.

A relieved smile appears on her face and she pats my forearm. "Well maybe that's a good thing then! Maybe he's finally realized he's been a complete douchebag to you over the years and you don't deserve it. Maybe he's decided to fuck all the way off and leave you alone because his words fall on deaf ears anyway."

"Deaf ears?" I scoff. "Ella, his words are heard by every fan out there."

"And those fans have watched you play your heart out for the past six years," she reminds me adamantly. "They've watched you grow up and become a man. They've supported you through all your growth and encouraged you along the way. They've cheered for you and loved you and they encourage you and love you now. Need I remind you that last year when he started in with all his bullshit several fans came to your defense?"

She's right.

That did happen.

And it felt damn good.

"I guess you're right."

"I know I'm right." She smiles that smile that melts me every time. The smile that makes me want to lift her up and squeeze her against me. The one that makes me want to take her home and do all I can to hear those little sighs and moans and screams of pleasure that turn me the fuck on.

Because she's my safe space.

She calms the storms in my head.

She's my home.

"So maybe instead of sitting here washed in your own self-loathing, you turn the attitude around and tell yourself it wasn't your fault. Injuries are part of the game. You're not without injuries in your career either, Auggie. You've just been able to recover from yours. You've grown from them and you've become a better, stronger player because of them. You don't let shit get you down. You're August fucking Blackstone."

I am August fucking Blackstone.

"Have I told you lately how much I love you?"

She shrugs and smiles at me again. "I mean, maybe not since this morning when we went opposite directions after walking into this building."

I cup her face in my hands and kiss her soft lips and then rest my forehead against hers. "I love you, Ella Montgomery. And I have no idea where the hell I would be in this life without you by my side."

"I love you too, Auggie. And it feels so good to finally say those words and mean them in the way I've meant them for a long time."

"Ditto."

I slip my hand behind her head and bring her lips to mine. I explore her mouth as her tender lips float against mine and we both sink into this kiss. Fuck, what I wouldn't give to be able to take her behind closed doors somewhere in this arena so we can fu?—

"Hey! Get a room!" A balled-up napkin hits my face and falls to my plate. I don't even have to look to know it was Griffin, but nevertheless I glance in that direction anyway and there he sits, with an ornery smirk on his face a couple tables away. Dressed in pair of pajama pants with hot dogs all over them and an Oscar Meyer Weiner t-shirt, he gives us a cheesy wave with the flit of his fingers and we both laugh.

"He's such a doof," Ella says softly.

I couldn't agree more.

Something feels off.

I felt the tension on the ice during warmup in the way a few of the Gators would look our way but there was nothing I could do. Sometimes we get a vibe from the visiting team that they didn't come to play. They came angry and that's the vibe I'm getting from the Gators.

But what the fuck do they have to be mad about?

"You feel that too?" Ledger asks as he skates past me and swirls back around the net to where I am. "It's odd, right?"

I nod. "Yeah. I can't pinpoint it and I don't like it. I have a feeling this is going to be a rough one tonight."

"I think you may be right. Guess we better bring our A-game, yeah?" He nudges my arm and then skates off.

Yeah.

A-game.

I let my body take over the rest of our warmup, going through the motions and doing what always needs to be done, but all the while I search the ice and glance through the stands for anything out of the ordinary that might give me a clue as to what the hell has me on edge. It's not like Jeff Furbling is back on the ice and it's not like I haven't played against the Gators numerous times since that day. Sure, they have some new team members just like we do but that's nothing to be stressed about. It happens with every team every season. I catch sight of Lumin in the stands being interviewed by a member of the press team and feel better knowing she's safe in the hands of team staffers.

That's my girl up there doing her thing.

She's my rock.

My safe place.

The one I get to sleep next to at the end of this night.

Reminding myself that regardless of how this game turns out, in a few short hours, I'll have Ella in my arms again and with any luck my cock buried deep inside her makes all the tension dissipate from my body.

Let's just get this fucking game over with.

We get through the pregame ceremonies with no problems but the game itself starts out with a flurry of drama. Oliver faces off against the Gators' center, Mickey Fyte. Oliver wins the puck but breaks his stick on the draw. Harrison gets an early touch on the puck and keeps possession long enough to get it passed to Ollenberg who's off to a good start. We're able to keep the puck under an Anaheim hold for a solid thirty seconds of game play before we lose it to the Gators. Bear blocks their first shot attempt and sends the puck back to Ollenberg who shoots it down the ice. I'm able to sweep in for the take, but without warning, I'm checked by Homer Offerston from the Gators, hit hard behind the net. It quickly becomes three on one and they refuse to let up, each one of them crashing into me as if it's all legal game play.

What the ever-loving fuck?

I lose my balance and fall but not before I hear, "Furbling says hello Blackstone." Offerston sneers and I swear I hear him mumble something like, "Punk ass Rumpleforeskin."

"What the fuck are you doing?" Harrison shouts at Offerston with Griffin and Ledger right behind him.

With a swing of a fist Garrison adds, "That was completely uncalled for, you potato face humpty bitch!"

Fists fly and words are shouted and a couple helmets are knocked off as six of us fight on the ice. I land a few solid punches to Offerston and one of his comrades who I don't recognize and one of them grabs my jersey before landing an uppercut to my chin. "We played with Furbling back in the day, fuck nut," the guy says to me. "We saw what you did."

Son of a fucking bitch, so this is how it's happening now?

Instead of social media posts he's resulted to letting former teammates fight it out for him?

"You don't know shit," I spit back at him. "So, fuck off limp dick!" I get a few more hits in before the referee breaks us up, but now I'm revved up and ready to kick some Gator ass.

"You okay Blackstone?"

"Never better," I tell him, feeling the heat of anger boiling up inside me already. I fix my helmet and look up at the jumbotron to see we're only a little over a minute into the first period of the game.

Seriously?

A fight in the first minute of the game is not a good omen.

But fuck the Gators.

Karma's a bitch and all is fair in the game of hockey.

And fuck Furbling.

If he wants to fight, he can fucking show up and do it himself.

Homer is called to the penalty box and I'm off to the bench to get cleaned up. Quite sure I'm cut above my eye because there's blood on my glove. The team has a two-minute powerplay, but a second stringer takes my place on the ice.

"What the hell was that about?" Anthony, our team medic, asks me while taking a quick look at me eye.

"Nothing important."

"Hey Blackstone!" a fan calls from behind the glass. "I heard you were the worst player on the last team too."

I pay no attention to the stupid cunt in the stands. Most of our fans who pay enough to sit this close to the ice are damn near drunk by game time anyway.

"It doesn't look bad. I'm just going to steri-strip it and put a band-aid over it for now. We'll revisit it after the game unless it gets worse." Anthony dabs the wound with alcohol and cleans it up before covering it with the appropriate bandages and then sends me on my way. I'm ready to get myself back in the game.

Because Offerston's got it coming.

"Hey Blackstone, you're definitely not pregnant because this period is slamming you!"

"Yeah? Then you can suck my bloody dick asshole," I mumble right before jumping the wall and reentering the game.

The Gators finally get the puck into our territory and Bear has to be fast on his feet. He blocks a shot and sends it back down the ice but it's rebounded and shot at him again, this time banking off the net. I loop around as the puck slides right to me and pass it off to Ledger until I can get out from behind the net. Once I'm back in the open, Griffin dribbles the puck down the ice with me out in front clearing his path. The crowd gets louder the closer to the net we get. Griffin looks at me and smiles with a wicked grin that tells me he's about to do something stupid and then he comes to a screeching halt, looks at Findley, the goalie for the Gators, and says, "Hey man. How many wieners do you think I can deep throat at one time?"

And then without even looking he passes the puck to me, and I shoot it into Findley's five hole to score the first goal of the game. The siren blows and the crowd erupts and all I can do is laugh as the guys crowd around me and give me celebratory hugs.

"Well done Blackstone, but what the fuck was that?" Oliver asks with a laugh as he collides into me, slapping my helmet.

I'm laughing right along with him as I shrug. "Hell, if I know! Griffin was being Griffin!"

"What did you say to Findley?" Harrison asks when Griffin approaches. "And what the hell were you doing? That wasn't the play."

"Yeah, I know," he says with a smirk. "I took a page out of Ella's fake-out playbook but I didn't think I could twirl the way she did, so I just asked him how many wieners he thought I could deep throat at one time."

Harrison, Ledger, Oliver, and I crack up laughing. "You are something else, Ollenberg," I tell Griffin as I give the guy a hug.

"I thought you deserved a little revenge since they came after you so fucking early tonight."

"Thanks, man. I owe ya one."

"Nah. That's what friends are for."

Griffin and I set off to the other side of the ice to sit out this next shift. I grab my water bottle and take a few long chugs when I hear a fan from somewhere behind us yell, "Hey Blackstone! Don't be such a pansy next time. You've got to want it if you're going to survive!"

"Yeah okay fuckhead," I mumble, not bothering to look behind me. Fans heckle us all the time, it's nothing new.

Griffin chuckles and then nudges me with his elbow. "Yeah Blackstone. Pansy ass mother fucker. You've got to want it."

"What do I want?" I ask him with a smirk.

He shrugs. "I don't know. To knock that guy's teeth out maybe? He was trying to give me shit earlier too."

"Drunk ass bitch most likely."

"Without a doubt."

"Hey Blackstone!" the guy shouts again. "Tell your girl to stop changing her lipstick color! My dick looks like a rainbow!"

A few fans get a hearty laugh out of the heckles being tossed my way and as much as I usually let them roll off my back, I'm so not in the mood tonight. Especially when he starts talking about my girl.

Nobody talks about Ella like that and gets away with it. I start to turn around but Griffin grabs my jersey and pulls my attention back to the game. Without looking at me he says, "Don't give them the satisfaction man. It'll only get you in trouble."

"Yeah but they're talking about Ella."

He laughs. "Dude, they don't know who the fuck they're talking about. They probably don't even know who Ella is let alone know that she's across the ice in the stands leaving a little sparkle everywhere she fucking goes. They're drunk. Let them be drunk. They're not hurting anyone."

They're pissing me off.

But I suppose he's right.

I get paid millions of dollars to play the game I love and they're probably waking up every day and going to a job they can't stand. I suppose I can take their drunk heckles without taking it personally. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head before he takes a huge gulp of water. "Stupid fucking drunks." He tosses his water bottle and gestures to me. "Ready?"

"Yep."

The Stars are up three to two nearing the end of the third period when I come off the ice for my last shift break, this time with Ledger by my side.

"Tough game," Ledger says, handing me a water bottle as he's also handed one for himself.

"Bunch of mother fucking assholes if you ask me."

"Aww." Ledger cocks his head. "Is someone salty because he got his pretty little face nicked up?" He laughs and pats my head as someone shouts from behind us.

"Hey Blackstone! You got any naked pictures of your girlfriend?" When I don't answer him after a second or two, he adds, "Want me to send you some?"

"Fucking son of a bitch." I stand up to finally say something to the asshole fan behind us but Ledger grabs my arm and yanks me back down.

"Not a chance, Blackstone."

I stare at him incredulously and he merely shrugs in response with an annoyed laugh. "We need you in the game. And the next game. Don't go getting yourself ejected because of some stupid fan. The game's almost over anyway then he'll be out of your hair."

"Just one good hit. Come on," I whine.

"Sorry, son." Ledger smiles. "Take it out on the punching bag in the gym later."

I'd really like to take it out on that heckler's face.

"Going to Jay's after the game?"

"I imagine so," I tell him with a nod. "Unless Ella's not up for it, but otherwise count us in."

"That's the spirit." He stands and throws his leg over the wall. "Let's go kick some Gator ass."

We're about to retake the ice when the same heckling fan shouts at me one more time. "Hey Blackstone! You finally got your sweet little pussy to this side of the country, huh?"

My brows furrow and my body stiffens at the mention of my girl being on this side of the country.

"Are you just fucking her or are you fucking her over like you did me?"

My veins turn ice cold as my body freezes. I squeeze my eyes closed and try to take a calming breath and then I bravely turn around only for my eyes to land on the one person I never wanted to have to see again.

Jeff Furbling.

"Don't," Ledger says to me, trying to get me to refocus my energy. "Leave it on the ice August. He's a nobody. And he's just trying to get under your skin."

"Yeah well, he fucking succeeded. And he's not a nobody."

"Who is he?"

Jeff stands up and cups his hands around his mouth so he knows I'll hear what he has to say. "You might have her now, Blackstone, but I had her first! And she was a fucking good time!"

"You mother fucking son of a bitch!" I scream, stepping to the far side of the bench and lifting my leg to stand up on it. Whatever I have to do to get to this mother fucker. "Just wait till I?—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I'm pulled off the bench as I watch Furbling lick his lips and wave back at me. "Stop! Stop! Just stop, Blackstone. Take a fucking deep breath."

"Don't tell me what the fuck to?—"

I finally catch sight of who's talking to me and notice it's Coach Hicks, but I'm so fucking pissed off I can't even see straight right now.

"I'm sorry, Coach. But?—"

"But what? You think you're going to climb this glass and fuck that guy up?" he shouts at me.

I huff, my cheeks red with anger as my blood heats throughout my body. "If you give me the fucking chance, yeah!"

"Who the hell is that guy? Do you know him?"

"Yeah." I huff out a breath again and finally say, "It's Jeff Furbling."

Coach's brow furrows as he repeats the name. "Jeff…Furbling. Furbling…why do I know that name?"

"Because he played for the Gators in his rookie year, sir. When I was playing for North Carolina. But he got checked during a game and I was in that game and I was the last person to run into him. I gave him the crushing blow that ended his career. It was a fucking accident but he hasn't let it go and I get it but what the FUCK am I supposed to do about it now?"

Coach stares at me for a moment, and seeing the frustration and irritation in my whole self asks, "Do you need out, Blackstone? Done for the night?"

"What?" I ask, almost pissed off that he would even offer me the chance to run away.

Like that's happening.

"Fuck no. I want to play. And then I want to kick that guy's fucking ass for good."

Coach's jaw ticks as he looks to me and then up in the stands to Furbling. "He's drunk, August. Anyone can see that. Get out there and finish the game. Fuck that guy."

He doesn't have to tell me twice. The ice is one of the only places where I can focus. My body knows what to do so my brain can figure out what the absolute fuck just happened.

"Blackstone, you good?" Oliver shouts as I rejoin the team for some endgame action.

"I'm fucking fine!"