Page 5 of Playing Her Game

“Oh, no,” Sofie whispers as the gloves hit the ice.

The arena erupts as Reznik swings; a quick right catches Aleks in the face before they lock up and spin against the boards, carving up the ice.

I cover a gasp as I see what is happening around me. Fans outside of this box, on both sides of the arena, surge forward for a better view, phones out, hoping to capture a viral shot.

Then Lenzin moves.

I recognize the shift in him before he even reaches them. He doesn’t charge recklessly. He waits until Reznik yanks Aleks off balance, driving him back toward the boards, then grabs Reznik’s shoulder to separate them. Reznik turns and throws a punch without looking. His knuckles connect with Lenzin’s jaw.

“LENZIN!” Lucy screams.

My stomach drops. For one horrible second, I can’t breathe. Lenzin staggers just enough for me to see the impact, and then his whole posture changes. Whatever restraint he brought to the fight disappears. He drops his gloves, grabs Reznik’s jersey, and hauls him away from Aleks.

“Oh, this is bad,” Hildy says beside me.

Bad doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Reznik squares up to Lenzin without hesitation. He throws another punch, and Lenzin slips it, then answers with a series of short, controlled shots of his own.

Lenzin’s measured and calculating, but there’s always an edge to him that makes my pulse race. He went in protecting Aleks, and now he’s defending himself.

They go down together, bodies crashing against the ice. Players from both teams swarm them; officials rush in, and the whistles shriek until the scene dissolves into a mass of jerseys, helmets, and furious movement.

I grip the edge of my seat in front of me so hard my fingers hurt, my other hand rests on Lucy’s little shoulder weightless. It’s about like patting your stomach and rubbing your head at the same time, difficult but manageable.

Lucy’s still standing against the glass, her little face pale with worry. Paul reaches for her other shoulder, but she doesn’t seem to notice either of us; she’s engrossed in the action on the ice, but taking brief moments to look up at Hildy who is remaining calm. Unlike the rest of the arena, Lenzins little family isn’t glued to the ice because they want to see a fight. They’re concerned for Lenzins safety. This entire box composed of women who love the man more than the game, they are too.

It takes far too long for the fight to break up, but I know it’s going to take even longer to clean up the mess they’ve made of the ice. It isn’t until Lenzin looks up to the box and gives her a thumbs up that this sweet child releases a long-held breath.

“There,” I whisper, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “He’s okay.”

Hildy reaches for her hand, and Lucy takes it and steps closer, resting her head against Hildy’s hip. Hildy wraps her arm around her shoulder and rubs up and down slowly as she continues to stare at Lenzin with an expression I recognize. She is equal parts worried and probably a little turned on. I was never attracted to my forced fiancée in that way, but my God, nothing gets me warmed up like two men fighting on the ice, on the pitch, in the Octagon, or in the ring. So sexy.

Sofie leans in closer to the glass and whispers, “Did you see Aleks’ face?”

I follow her gaze Aleks is heading towards the penalty box where he will sit beside Lenzin. “I can’t get a good look at it from here.”

But I do get a good look at her face; she, too, looks a bit hot and bothered. I love that for my friends. The women they have fallen for are smart and driven. Hildy is getting her PhD and has worked harder than anyone I know to escape the circumstances she was born into. I don’t know all the details, but I know enough to respect the hell out of her from what I have witnessed on this trip to the States. And Aleks? God, how that whole situation makes me laugh. He hates money, even though he has it now. He has forever given Lenzin, and I hell about our generational wealth, privilege, and entitlement. How he fell in love with a woman whose family bank accounts could rival the Faulker’s or the Winterfield’s wealth is hilarious to me. In the words of Taylor Swift, karma is his girlfriend—well, his fiancée, anyway.

Lenzin and Aleks, can argue, push each other, drive each other absolutely bananas, but when something goes wrong, neither one leaves the other standing alone. My parents will be very angry about me not fighting to stay engaged to Lenzin Faulker, a marriage they have demanded for the good of both our families’ future wealth. But I will never regret, not ever, one minute that they forced us into each other’s orbits for over two decades— a score—because without Lenzin, and through him, Aleks, I would never have known loyalty without binds or conditions.

Lucy presses both palms to the glass. “Faulker.”

Lenzin looks up again, smiling now, and waves at her.

I try not to be angry at the ass in the guest’s penalty box, this is a game after all. But for Lucy’s and Hildy’s worry, I allow myself. So, I glance left at Reznik, head bowed, mess of sweaty dark hair hanging in his face, a face I hope is marked and bloodied like theirs.

He’s breathing hard as he turns to them. His gaze finds Lenzin. Even from this distance, I recognize the look on Lenzins face. There’s no hatred in it. There’s a challenge of course, but also something that looks suspiciously like respect.

Interesting. Very interesting.

The game resumes, and I force myself to sit back. We have a tied game to finish, and if the last few minutes have taught me anything, it’s that neither team intends to make the rest of this easy.

The score remains tied at two when the horn sounds.

I groan with the rest of the box.

“Come on,” Sofie mutters. “Not a tie.”