30
Beau
“You aren’t fighting. I—I—I forbid it!” Geneviève yelled at me for the tenth time.
At least.
“I’m not discussing this with you. The other parts of my life, yes, of course you have a say. But not with this, Geneviève. Do not ask me to do something you know I can’t do!”
“He’s a monster. Have you already forgotten he put your friend on life support?” she asked me, throwing her hands up in the air.
We’d been fighting all day over this.
I had to admit I was happy when she mentioned an afternoon meeting. That meant I wouldn’t see her until the game.
If she was still coming, that is.
She finished putting her hair up, then haughtily grabbed her purse.
“Are you coming to the game?” I asked, and her head swung to me so fast, I thought it might spin right off.
“Of course, I’m coming.” She looked at me and frowned.
“Kiss me before you go?” I asked, needing to feel her lips on mine, even though I knew she was still seriously pissed at me.
She practically marched over to me and set her hands on my chest. “Good luck. Don’t do anything stupid, please?” Then she rose up on her toes, even though she was in heels.
I touched my lips to hers, folding my arms around her.
My tongue grazed her lips, and she allowed me entrance.
“Mm,” I moaned, tasting the delicious flavor of the strawberries she’d been eating. “You taste so good,” I said, taking our kiss deeper.
Her hands folded behind the back of my neck, pulling me closer to her.
“I love you,” she murmured against my lips. “Please be safe.”
I gazed down at her and promised the only thing I could. “I’ll try.”
“I cannot believethey haven’t suspended his ass yet,” Edwards said in the dressing room. The team was suited up and ready to go.
“It’s crazy, but I can’t say I’m sad about meeting him on the ice tonight,” I said, my voice sounding cocky and confident. “Although, I can say this is the only time I’ve ever looked forward to seeing him.”
Edwards shoved my shoulder, getting my attention.
Quick.
“What the hell, Edwards?” I said, stepping closer into his space.
His voice lowered. Like, scary low. “You heard the coach. No retaliation. We need everyone on this team healthy and with their heads still connected to their shoulders.”
“It’s not my head that’s going to roll tonight.” I stared at him, unflinching. I could feel the adrenaline course through me like it had been since I saw Rozovsky push Trey into the boards.
He pursed his lips. “That young lady of yours is not going to like it if your pretty face gets—unpretty. And attached to a bunch a fucking tubes.”
“She’ll deal.”
“Asshole,” he muttered to himself, then shoved my shoulder again before he stormed out.