Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Luckily, she no longer looks at me this way.
The asshole doesn’t seem to notice the signals Molly throws out because his hand is still on her.
“Hey,” I say, my voice low and even, the kind of calm that usually comes before a fight.
The guy turns, looking me up and down.
His expression shifts when he recognizes me. “What do you want, Wilde?”
I ignore him, my attention on Molly. “Everything okay here?”
Molly blinks before meeting my stare. “Fine.”
“You sure you’re fine, or is he giving you a problem?” I gesture to Hayes.
He frowns, clearly annoyed now. “What’s your problem, man? We’re just talking.”
“Talking doesn’t involve touching unless you were invited,” I tell him.
The guy bristles but takes a step back. “Should be a fun game tomorrow.”
It would be so easy to clock him right now. To swing and catch him right on the cheek.
I force myself to take a deep breath.
Mom would kill you if you made headlines for this.
She might, the devil on my shoulder starts, but she also might reward you when you tell her you did it for Molly.
“Hudson,” Molly warns.
Fine.
I glare at Hayes, getting in his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow on the ice.”
Both of us have made our intentions very clear. We’ll finish this in the rink.
When the douchebag walks away, Molly glares at me. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
“Didn’t need to,” I shoot back.
Molly hesitates, almost like she’s torn by how to act, but finally, her posture relaxes. “Thanks, I guess.”
“You’re welcome.”
I step closer, bending down so only she can hear. “I know you said this is how it has to be, but know this: I’m going to change your mind.”
Then I pull back and walk away, leaving her with that parting gift.
47
Hudson
The rink is alive with noise. The crowd roars as the guys and I skate out for warm-ups. I tighten my jaw as I survey the players on the Colts.
My eyes find Hayes immediately.
He’s such a douche. Skating like he owns the ice.
Spoiler alert: he doesn’t.
I do.
He needs to be knocked down a peg.
Lucky for him, I’m up for the job.
I can’t get the image out of my head—Hayes leaning in too close to Molly, his hand brushing her waist. Molly’s polite but stiff smile, her annoyance evident to anyone paying attention.
The image is burned in my brain, fueling my anger.
I clench my hands. I’m ready to fight.
Thirty minutes later, the game begins.
Right off the bat, it’s fast and physical.
We score, and then they score.
My frustration is at an all-time high every time Hayes is near, which is often. I focus on playing, though, trying desperately not to let him goad me.
That’s what he wants to do, after all. He wants to get into my head. Fuck with me, and then, in turn, throw me off my game.
I don’t let it happen.
Well, that is, until the third period.
The puck is still in play. I chase it down the boards. My focus is razor-sharp as I speed across the ice.
Out of nowhere, Hayes blindsides me with an elbow to the head, knocking me down. Pain shoots through me as I scramble to get back up on my feet.
The whistle blows for a penalty.
Fuck this.
I don’t hesitate to charge him. Dropping my gloves, I close the distance. Hayes swings first, but I dodge it easily. Pulling back my arm, I punch, my fist connecting squarely with Hayes’s jaw. Hayes staggers.
The whistle blows and blows and blows.
I grin at his bleeding lips. “Not smiling now, dick.”
All around me, I hear the crowd erupt into chaos.
They love this shit, and I’m about to give them the show of a lifetime.
I land another punch, but it’s not long before arms pull me back. Looking over my shoulder, I see Dane.
The deafening chants from the crowd are a mix of cheers and boos.
My chest heaves as I glare at Hayes, who is currently being dragged to the bench by his own teammates, a hand pressed to his jaw.
At least I wiped the smug-ass grin off his face.
That thought alone makes me smile.
I’m escorted to the penalty box.
Coach is pissed.
Oh, well. No one touches my little Hex but me.
“Wilde,” Coach barks as I slump onto the bench, peeling off my helmet. “What the hell was that?”
I don’t answer.
Instead, I stare straight ahead.
Coach wants me to feel bad.
Fuck that.
I have shit to feel bad for. Hayes had it coming.
Even with the scuffle, the game ends in a victory.
I head to the locker room, still fuming and amped up.
Once inside, Mason throws an arm around me, clapping me on the shoulder. “Nice punch.”
“How about maybe save it for after the game next time, huh?” It’s Dane who speaks this time. “The Redville Post hates when they don’t have an exclusive, and I just bought their stock.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, sure, asshole.”