Page 78 of Vicious Butterfly
No, we don’t care about that anymore, remember?We told him never to contact us again, and he listened.
Do I believe that? Not really. He’s probably planning to abduct me or something else psychotic. That brings some kinda warmth to my chest in this cold-ass penalty box. Well fuck me. I’m looking forward to his next obsessive display of affection.
But it doesn’t change the fact that I should play in that Thanksgiving game to help my friends. Unless Tate wants to support all of them … I mean, he did say anything I wanted.
No, I’ve got to do some shit myself. I’m going onto that ice, and Tate can suck it up. Plus, he deserves it for being such a dick. I can’t let him back in easily. The rose was endearing, but it’s not enough.
I nudge Kane beside me. “Why are you trying to kill Blackwood?”
“Because he exists.”
That’s all I’m getting out of him. He glares at the ice, trying to set it on fire. I’d tell him that was impossible, but don’t think he cares right now.
My blades cut the ice as I leave the penalty box. I skate up ice in time to sweetly accept a pass from Gideon.
Savage shoots, he scores!The puck slides right through the goalie’s pads just before he closes them. Kane collides with Blackwood, thankfully after I’ve scored. He rips his helmet off, cracking his face with his knuckles over and over. It’s kind of a feat considering the size of Blackwood. A tooth skitters across the ice before the refs pull them apart. Kane’s ejected from the game.
Probably for the better, cuz.
But I always have his back, so I take over riding Blackwood’s toothless ass on Kane’s behalf. I illegally slash his ankles when the refs aren’t looking. Enough to trip him up without actually tripping him. He fumbles the puck a lot, and it pisses him off.
“Careful, Savage, or I’m gonna think you’re sweet on me,” Magnus says before we face off.
Sweet on him? Yeah, no chance of that. For some fucking annoying reason, Tate’s breath ghosts my ear, and I shiver. Yeah, from his imaginary breath. Because I’m still on the ice, and he’s not here.
The puck drops, his blade snags it before I ever move my stick. I shake my head, going after him. But fuck. His chirping rattled me for the wrong reason. Not because I’m worried anyone will think I’m sweet on Blackwood. The truth is far more fucking disturbing.
I might be sweet on Tate. God fucking dammit.
Catching up to him, I slam him into the boards, take possession of the puck, and pass up to Torin. He takes a shot at the net, but it hits the post.
At least my goal from out of the penalty box wins us the game, but we’ll probably still hear it from Coach.
Gideon’s eyes are wild. Something truly unhinged. Whatever he’s got in that box, he doesn’t want to show me. I usually leave my friends to their business but seeing that lock of hair’s still throwing me. There aren’t a lot ofredheads at North Point, and the only one with hair that shade of red I know of is Griff. I need it to make fucking sense.
There’s something defensive in his demeanor, as if maybe he thinks once I know what he’s gonna tell me, I’ll attack him again.
It’s just us in his room. The others took advantage of postgame celebrations. I made Gideon stay back with me because this shit needs to get sorted out now. But maybe I should have had at least Becks stay with us. What if Gid tells me something that royally pisses me off?
He opens the box and lays pieces on the bed, including the lock of hair, which I side-eye him for.
“What’s all this, Gid?”
Gideon fucking blushes. “I like someone.”
I raise a judgmental brow. “Like someone? This looks like you’re getting ready to make lampshades from their skin.”
He groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Well, he hates me because I’m a hockey player—he really fucking hates hockey players. Wishes we were all dead.”
For reasons I can’t comprehend, that makes him smile. And on Gideon, his smile only makes him look more like he’s about to make human-skin lampshades.
“This is all I can do. Watch him from afar,” he says with some un-Gideon-like whimsy in his voice. What the fuck?
“Do I wanna know how you got that hair?”
“Wren stole it for me during Block training.”
That’s when my intuition tingles.Turn back! Turn back, now!“A freshie,” I whisper, almost to myself. “With the same color hair as Griff.”
