DRAMA NOVEL ONLINE Skate the Line: Chapter 65
Emory seethes from beside me. “You’re lucky you’re not in fucking handcuffs.”
He paces back and forth in front of the trainer’s room as I get my face stitched up. My knuckles are swollen, but most of my aggression is on hold from the staggering events that led to this moment.
We lost the game.
I was ejected for leaving the bench to fight.
It helped matters that Tarvo threw the first punch, but I did pull him onto the ice, so I think I’m still fucked. But what does everyone expect?
Even Kane, who has a heart the size of a piece of gravel, got a few hits in. He loves a good fight, but I know why he was the first to come to my aid.
He’s the one who got Tarvo thrown out of the game, pleading with the refs and explaining why I went ballistic.
It’s all very hush-hush, but the team is aware of my reason for attacking Tarvo. According to Malaki, a few of the men from the other team backed Kane up too. We may be enemies on the ice, but when it comes to something like this, we’re neutral.
You just don’t fuck with another man’s girl, and you most definitely don’t do what Tarvo did.
According to the rest of Mel’s text—that I just so happened to ignore before attacking Tarvo—there wasn’t a formal investigation because charges were never pressed.
I’m not sure why she didn’t press charges, but I know Sunny, and I’ve seen the fear on her face.
He’s guilty.
“Let me see the report,” Emory says.
I grind my jaw. It’s sore.
I try not to wince with the last touches on my stitches. When I’m finished, I toss my phone to Emory with the report on the screen.
His forehead furrows, and then it furrows some more.
He flicks his gaze to me, and the room grows tight.
“Does Jacobs know about this?”
I hop down from the bench. “He probably does now.”
“I like it here, and I like this team.” He steps in line with me as we leave the training room and head down the hall toward the locker room. “I don’t want to believe that he hired Tarvo knowing about his reputation.”
The team should be gone and back at the hotel. The game ended at least an hour ago, the media even clearing out.
“Charges were never pressed,” I say.
Why didn’t she press charges?
Emory pushes on the door.
“Well, that’s fucking ridiculous—”
Emory stops mid-sentence.
I’m afraid to look at the locker room. If the police are here to arrest me for assault, we’re going to have problems. What would be worse is if Tarvo was waiting for round two.
“What are you guys still doing here?”
I open my eyes, and the shock grounds me.
The entire team, Coach Jacobs included, is waiting.
Kane stands up in the middle of the quiet locker room.
I continue to stare, fully fucking confused.
He claps.
It starts off slow, and eventually, the rest of the team is standing on their feet, and they’re clapping too.
I glance at Coach Jacobs, and the slight nod in my direction is enough of an acceptance as any other.
“We’re a team,” Kane announces, once the clapping dies down. “We play together, we fight together, and we support each other.”
Malaki pipes up. “Even if that means jumping into a fight for reasons unknown.”
The team laughs, some of them throwing up devil horns.
A year ago, the locker room would have been cleared out without an ounce of support.
But this year is different.
Our mentality has changed, along with other things.
I clear my throat. “I appreciate you guys, and I apologize for not being present for the third period.”
“Fuck Tarvo!” someone shouts from the back.
Kane points at them. “Fuck Tarvo.”
I want to laugh, but I don’t. Although I got some of my aggression out, the pain of losing Sunny remains.
“Tarvo is taken care of,” Coach Jacobs interrupts the chatter. “I’ve made it clear that he is no longer welcome. He won’t come near our arena.”
That’s great.
But what about going near Sunny?
“Daddy, where are we going?” Ellie quickly chases after me with her yellow backpack hanging off her one shoulder.
I stop right outside of our gate and wait for her to catch up.
She’s out of breath, and I laugh. I scoop her up and put her on my shoulders.
“Mr. Volkova.” One of the flight attendants nods at me as I walk through the doors. The rest of the team is flying out tomorrow, but I cleared it with Coach to fly out a day early to take care of some things.
Ellie and I rarely get to travel together. The only time we do is when we take our yearly Christmas trip to Russia.
“Are we going to see my babushka?” The glimmer of hope in her eye is the most emotion I’ve seen from her since Sunny left.
I shake my head, and the disappointment lands on her shoulders.
Once we’re settled in our seats, she straps her seatbelt and reaches inside her bag. Instead of pulling out her tablet and headphones, she grabs onto a little container of clay. Her fingers work furiously as she tries to form something with the material.
I’m assuming that’s her way of feeling close to Sunny without being with her.
Like mother, like daughter. Except, in this case, it’s like nanny, like Ellie.
Right before we take off, I steal a piece of her clay and start to knead the material in my own hands.
Ellie growls with frustration.
I lean into her space and hope I’m not fucking myself with my spoiling where we’re going.
“You want to know where we’re going, Printsessa?”
Her angry brow smooths. “Yes.”
“We’re going somewhere…Sunny.”
She thinks for a second, and like a lightbulb, her green eyes light up.
I grin, and she does the same.