The deafening collision of bodies shattered the air. My heart leaped into my throat at the same time I catapulted from my seat. There was no way this was happening. The player from the opposing team charged into Hendrix without any hesitation. It's like he didn't even attempt to avoid the collision. Hendrix went down like a cinder block dropped from a two-story window. His head collided with the ice, his helmet bouncing off of his head upon impact.

My hand flew over my mouth. My stomach churned; running a goalie was a cardinal sin amongst hockey players. That wasn't something you did unless you were trying to start an all out war on the ice. And it seemed like Brite was getting exactly what they were asking for.

The referee blew the whistle, but it was too late. Cole reached the net first. Throwing his gloves down on the ice, he gripped the back of the Brite player's jersey and hauled him up. Without missing a beat, his fist met the side of the man's head, the other was curled up in his jersey. Cole wasn't holding back. Each blow ricocheted into the rowdy crowd.

A full out battle broke out in our zone. I let out a shuddering breath. Hendrix was still down on the ice, trying to drag himself out of the way of the war being waged in front of him. While he was in the line of fire, a few of his teammates acted as a barrier, standing in front of their fallen goalie as they fought.

"Oh, fuck," Olivia hissed from beside me.

Eden stared into the mayhem with wide eyes. "What the hell is happening?"

"A line brawl." I sounded horrified, even to my own ears.

"What the fuck was that asshole thinking?" Olivia whispered, her beloved popcorn long forgotten on the seat behind her.

I shook my head, unable to tear my gaze away from the ice down below. It was like watching a train wreck. Gloves and sticks fell to the ground, getting lost in the shuffle of brawling hockey players. What was happening off the ice wasn't any better. Players from both benches were banging their sticks against the boards like an army preparing for battle, their faces contorted as they shouted. Trainers and coaches struggled to hold them back.

The only player who wasn't outraged was Liam.

He stayed glued to the bench, jaw clenched and eyes dark with fury. But his cold stare wasn't tracking the fighting that was taking place on the ice. It was trained on Hendrix, who had managed to roll onto his hands and knees from inside the protection of the net. A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered our last conversation. The overt calm that came over him after Hendrix had threatened him.

No, Liam's an asshole, but he's not crazy.

"Someone's going to get seriously hurt," Eden murmured, tone laced with concern. Her blue eyes were trained on her boyfriend.

McKinley had a player bent over at his hips, jersey half pulled over his head. His helmet had also come off in the tussle, his long brown hair sticking to his forehead as he wrestled. A linesman skated over to them, trying to wedge himself between the pair. But instead of helping the situation, all three of them went tumbling down to the frozen surface.

The four officials tried their best to break up the fighting, but their orders weren't getting through to any of the players on the ice. Fists continued to fly, bodies slamming into each other.

"I can't imagine someone being that much of a sore loser to run the goalie," Olivia said with a shake of her head. "You don't think his coach put him up to it, do you?"

Both of us turned our heads to survey Brite's bench. It mirrored Fenton's. Players trying to make their way onto the ice with trainers and coaches holding them back. Brite's coach was red-faced, spitting as he shouted to his players on the ice. That wasn't the face of a man who sanctioned such a brutal hit.

The referee's whistle pierced through the arena again in warning. It cut through the frigid air like a knife, slowing the bawl to a standstill. Panting players peeled themselves away from each other. Some continued to hold onto each other's jerseys as they waited for an official call. The referee skated over to Cole and the player who had charged Hendrix, his face stern beneath the black helmet. He separated to two of them, ushering Brite's player off towards the penalty box.

As the ice cleared, I found myself holding my breath. People in the stands were also on their feet, cheering that a penalty was being called. I couldn't join in on their enthusiasm. One of Fenton's trainers had made his way onto the ice. He was tending to Hendrix who had managed to make his way onto his feet. The goalie was hunched over, clearly still reeling from how hard he was hit.

"Thank God that's over." Eden's voice was tinged with relief. "I hope Hendrix is okay."

Olivia and I exchanged glances, my best friend acknowledging that I wouldn't be able to relax until I knew he was indeed fine.

Coach Miller was still on the bench, gesturing for one of the referees to join him. His face was a mask of cold fury, and I could tell that he was about to give the official a piece of his mind.

"Say what you want about Coach Miller," Olivia murmured, watching the scene unfold, "but if there's one thing he's good for, it's advocating for his players."

I couldn't help but agree. I'd been to a handful of practices by this point. Coach Miller was harsh and demanding. But there was no denying that he did what he thought was best for his team–and right now, he was willing to go to bat for them. Coach Miller pointed a sharp finger towards where Hendrix stood by the dislodged net.

"What do you think he's saying?"

"I'm pretty sure he wants that idiot off the ice for the rest of the game," Olivia explained. "To be fair, I don't know if they'll grant that. Running a goalie usually only gets them a 5-minute major at best."

I nibbled on the skin around my thumb nail. The arena settled into a hushed buzz as we waited to see if Hendrix would remain on the ice. The trainer had his hand on his back, both of them hunched over. The trainer's lips moved, asking questions that Hendrix answered with a shake of his head. I held my breath, hoping Hendrix would stay on and flash me a thumbs up to signal that he was okay. But neither of those things happened.

The trainer stood up, motioning Easton and McKinley over. Each of them flanked Hendrix, helping him make his way towards the door. My throat closed in on itself, blood rushing to my ears.

"He must really be hurt," Olivia muttered next to me.

I shot her a steely glare.

"But it's good he's getting off," she added in a hurry. "He has a whole team of people in the back who are trained for this sort of thing. He's going to receive the best care that an athlete at Fenton can get."

My heart clenched as he disappeared down the hall that led to the locker rooms. I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt for the part I may have played in this situation.

"Looks like Nikolas is taking over," Olivia noted, as our backup goalie skated onto the ice. His long strides exuded a laid-back confidence that I saw in Hendrix.

The three of us settled back into our seats sometime after the referee announced the 5-minute major on Brite. I should have been happy that justice was served, but all I could think about was Hendrix. When the game picked back up, I dug my phone out of my boot. My fingers flew over the keyboard, sending Hendrix a quick text and asking if he was okay. I was sure he wouldn't have the time to see it, but desperation clawed at me. I needed to know he was fine.

As soon as the final buzzer blew, I was out of my seat. Olivia and Eden were hot on my tail, trailing behind as I made my way across the stands.

"Ella," Olivia called from behind me.

I didn't even glance back in her direction. For the last half of the period, all I could think about was Hendrix. I knew myself well enough to realize I wouldn't be able to think of anything else until I saw him. Weaving through people in the foyer, I made my way over to the locker rooms. By the time I reached the opening of the hallway, McKinley was already standing there in his gear.

"Where is he?" I asked, prepared to step around him.

McKinley must have seen it coming. He stepped in front of me, blocking my patch. "You can't go back there."

I stilled, staring up at him. "Why not?"

McKinley chewed on his inner lip. "They're following concussion protocols right now. No one besides the team is allowed back there."

"Concussion protocol?" I repeated, worry building in my chest.

"Standard procedure after a hit like that. Just give it some time, okay?"

I pulled in a deep breath through my nose. "Have you seen him?"

He nodded, sorrow pooling in his brown eyes. "Briefly."

"And?" I pressed, my heart racing.

"He didn't look great," McKinley admitted with a frown. "But he was conscious and talking, so that's a good sign."

I let out a sigh of relief, but the worry still lingered. "Do you know when we'll be able to see him?"

McKinley shook his head. "It probably won't be tonight. They're taking him to see a doctor."

Fuck. It must have been worse than I thought. I let out a shaky breath. "Okay, thanks for letting me know."

He gave me a sympathetic smile before stepping back towards the locker room door. "I have to get back in there before my dad goes nuclear."

I nodded, standing in silence as McKinley disappeared into the locker room. I leaned against the wall next to the door and closed my eyes, trying to calm my racing mind.

"Hey." Olivia's voice broke through my thoughts and I opened my eyes to see her and Eden coming to stand next to me. "Were you able to see him?"

"No," I whispered, my throat growing tight again. "McKinley was just out here. He told me I probably won't get a chance to see him tonight. They're sending him to a doctor to check for a concussion."

Olivia wrapped her arms around my neck. I returned the hug. "He'll be okay, Ella. The man's been an athlete all of his life. This is just a small bump in the road for him."

I knew she was right. Hendrix would be okay. But my heart still hurt over the fact that he might have been targeted because of me.

The three of us fell into an uneasy silence as we waited for McKinley to resurface from the locker room. Conversations buzzed from the opening of the hallway. Swarms of people gushing about the shutout that Hendrix Tate would have received if he hadn't sustained an injury and been escorted off the ice. My jaw hurt from how hard I was clenching my teeth.

By the time I had settled down, a flash of anger returned the moment Liam stepped out of the change room. He was freshly showered, his short blonde hair clumped together in wet spikes. The dress shirt he was wearing was half-hazardly tucked into the waistband of his dress pants. It seemed like he was going home from a night out and not leaving the rink of a college hockey game.

Olivia didn't have an opportunity to stop me. I pushed myself off of the wall, stepping in front of Liam and forcing him to come to an abrupt standstill. I had the advantage of surprise. Liam's head was down, glancing at his phone. Realization crossed his face when he finally looked up at me.

"Tell me you didn't have anything to do with what happened to Hendrix tonight," I ordered, searching his face for any of his tells.

When we were teenagers, I often reminded Liam how he didn't have the ability to lie to me. To me, he was like an open book, and I was hoping that--even after years of being apart--he would still be just as easy to read.

Liam's jaw ticked, Adam's apple bobbing. "I didn't have anything to do with it."

I scoffed back a laugh. Red swam in my vision and I shoved him hard in the chest. "You're an asshole, Liam."

"Did you not just fucking hear me?" He argued, but his voice lacked conviction. "I said I didn't have anything to do with it."

"Don't fucking lie to me," I said through clenched teeth.

Olivia's hand gripped my wrist, acting as my anchor. She applied a gentle pressure, reminding me of where we were. "Don't do this here," she murmured.

"Really convenient how all that bullshit starts just as you're getting off the ice," I spat, my body shaking with adrenaline.

Liam straightened up, unfazed by my outburst. "Oh, come on, Ella. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Like hell I don't!" I shouted, Olivia tugging on my wrist when I made a move to step forward. "I might have changed, Liam, but you haven't. You're still the same slimy, scumbag who can't stand to lose."

"We were winning."

"I'm not talking about the game!"

Liam's competitive nature was something that drew high school me in. I was enthralled with his passion and his ability to stronghold for what he truly wanted. He wasn't one to give up and I always thought that was a good trait to have. But it didn't take long for me to realize that every positive came with a negative. Liam's competitive side made him spiteful. He didn't take to losing lightly whether he was on or off the ice.

And in this case, he had lost me.

"Okay," Olivia interjected, trying to pull me away. Eden joined her, grabbing my other wrist to keep me from lunging at Liam again.

"Let's go, Ella," Olivia urged, her tone soft but firm. "We need to go."

As much as I wanted to stay and give Liam a piece of my mind, I knew that it wouldn't change what had happened–and it certainly wouldn't help Hendrix. So, with one final glare at Liam, I let Olivia and Eden guide me back down the hall, vowing to make Liam regret the day he met me.

_ _ _ _ _

author's note:

If Liam was in Ella's bad books before... I don't even know what he is now.

How are you? If you celebrated, how was your holidays? I'm so happy to have the next week and a bit off. Holidays around here are stressful and I always need a break from the break. If you saw my post the other day, you would have seen that I'm using this time off of work to finish writing this draft of Shutout (I only have 6 more chapters to go! There are more chapters available on Ream if you're interested). It would mean the world to me if you shared this story with your other college-romance-loving friends and family. I have a lot of book related goals for 2024.

What are some of your 2024 goals?

I hope you have a wonderful rest of your week. Happy reading!