“Tay-lor! Tay-lor!”
The Tornados’ defenseman, however, is less than amused. My breath hitches as he skates back to Theo and says something. Theo grins and makes a smart-ass comment back to him. Or at least, I assume it’s a smart-ass comment. I can’t exactly hear their conversation over the chanting crowd. But it doesn’t matter because it must’ve had the desired effect. Theo looks arrogant as hell, and his opponent looks…pissed. With a smirk, Theo winks at me, still riding the high from scoring. When the defenseman says something else, Theo's amusement vanishes into thin air. With a final look in my direction, he turns back to the opposing teammate, his upper lip curling as he spits something back and shoves at his chest.
Shit.
The angry defenseman slashes at Theo’s face with his stick, and I gasp. The clang as it connects with Theo’s helmet makes me flinch, but it must still connect with part of his face because a loud curse rings out through the arena as his head jerks back and crimson liquid spills onto Theo’s white jersey. Like a rubber band snapping, Theo recovers and shoves the Tornado player, then throws off his gloves and skates closer, ready to rip the guy apart. Everything happens so fast. I’m not sure whose blood is who’s before the teams are in an all-out brawl, and the referees are whistling to break it up.
My hands cover my mouth as I watch everything from the bench, unable to tear the players apart even if I wanted to.
A few seconds later, a referee is escorting both men to their benches, and I catch a glimpse of Theo. Blood is pouring down his nose, and his knuckles are raw as he steps off the ice, his eyes blazing with fury. They’ve both been kicked out of the game. Not that I even care. His wounds need to be examined. Now. Clearly, they’re doozies.
Russ ushers me with him through the tunnel toward the locker room, trailing behind a very pissed-off Theo who obviously needs some medical attention.
“Ice pack,” Russ orders me, then calls out, “Straight to my office, Taylor!”
Theo’s shoulders are bunched, and his hands are clenched at his sides as he marches into Russ’s office without a word. He paces back and forth like a caged beast, muttering expletives under his breath as I race toward the massive ice machine at the back of the room and fill up a bag for his face.
Russ has medical gloves on by the time I return and motions to the black-cushioned table. “Taylor. Sit.”
“That motherfu––”
“I know,” Russ says. “Sit down and stop talking. I need to see if you’re gonna require stitches.”
Theo does as he’s told, albeit grudgingly, and tilts his head, giving Russ the perfect view of the cuts on his nose and lip. They look nasty.
Russ inspects them for a second, then barks, “Thorne, get some gloves on and a wet washcloth. We need to clean him up.”
I set the ice pack onto the bench next to Theo’s thigh and slip a pair of gloves on, wetting a small white towel under the faucet.
“Russ!” Tukani yells from the locker room. “Graves did something to his shoulder. It’s bad. Get out here!”
Russ curses under his breath and turns to me. “Take care of this the best you can. I’ll be back in a minute.” He races out of the room, leaving me alone with the still very pissed-off Theo.
Great.
My hands tremble as I take Russ’s place in front of Theo, the air practically crackling with unsaid words and weighted tension. Nibbling on my lower lip, I touch his wound with the edge of the white washcloth. I know it will be stained red by the time I’m finished cleaning him up.
Theo winces but doesn’t pull away, his gaze glued to my face. Curious. Frustrated. Anxious.
“Sorry,” I mutter, trying to be more gentle as I go in a second time. “That was bad.”
He sighs but doesn’t say a word, his muscles softening slightly as the last of his adrenaline seeps out of him.
“Why was he so pissed at you? I mean, I know it’s kind of a dumb question since you’d just scored and all, but…” My voice trails off. “That was over the top even by hockey standards. Didn’t help how you shoved him when he was all riled up, though.”
“So, it’s my fault?” he counters.
“Down boy. I’m just saying––”
“When he saw me wink at you, he called you a puck bunny and said something about you sucking his dick, Blake.”
With a frown, I fold the washcloth again and press a fresh corner to his nose. “And you didn’t like his bullshit comment?”
“Of course, I didn’t like it,” he growls. “The disrespectful motherfu––”
“Language,” I tease, cleaning him up a bit more.
It shouldn’t make me happy he’s hurting, or that he stepped in when he most definitely didn’t have to. But it does. It’s the sweetest, most neanderthal response Theo’s ever had. And even though I’ll most definitely be keeping the onslaught of butterflies to myself, the least Theo deserves is my gratitude.
“Well…thank you,” I murmur. “For defending my honor. Even if it was one hundred percent unnecessary. I most definitely have thicker skin than that, but I still appreciate it. I think,” I add with a smirk.
He chuckles but winces as the split on his lip opens slightly from his smile. It disappears almost instantly.
“Ouch.” I tilt my head and examine the rest of his face, taking in the bruising beneath his right eye along with the red mark on his forehead leading to the bridge of his nose and the top of his upper lip.
Brushing my gloved hand against his forehead, I hold his hair back and take a closer look.
Yikes.
“That bad?” Theo jokes when he catches me staring. But there’s amusement in his gaze instead of the angry, sailor-swearing left wing who came off the ice, and I’m grateful for it.
Pissed-off Theo is not for the faint of heart.
I definitely prefer my Teddy Bear.
I let out a breath of laughter, gently following the purple bruise across his nose and forehead with my forefinger. “It looks like he got you right here with his stick.”
Again, he winces and leans into my palm. The wrinkles along his forehead soften as if my touch eases a bit of the pain, so I don’t move away from him. I simply cradle his face. And it feels good to touch him. To hide it under the guise of work when I’ve been dying to be close to him since…forever. But especially since the sexcapade incident. I don’t even know why I’ve been pushing him away anymore.
Actually, it’s a lie.
I know exactly why I’ve been pushing him away. Because all I really want to do is pull him closer even when I know it’s a mistake. So the easier option? Is to keep the distance between us. To tell myself it’s necessary because I don’t want to lose this internship, which I don’t. But losing Theo after I’ve had a taste? The second option isn’t exactly a walk in the park, either. The last two weeks have been brutal.
But this? Touching his face? Having him look at me like this? Like I’m more than a puck bunny. More than Colt’s little sister. It’s dangerous. For my heart. My hope. My future.
I bite my lip but don’t pull away as I whisper, “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” He leans into my touch a bit more and closes his eyes for a moment. Then, he opens them, pinning me with those dark, hypnotic orbs as if he can only show so much vulnerability before crumbling from it. “So much for my helmet, though. At least I was wearing my mouth guard. Pretty sure I would’ve lost a tooth otherwise.”