“You’re going to chirp at me right now?” Hans asked. “Getting a little cocky before the game?”
“Fuck the game, I said. “I want everything right now.”
“What’s that?”
“You know what I’m talking about, Hans.”
Remi skated by me and tapped me with his stick. “This way, Mav. Let’s focus on our team.”
“Listen to the big guy there,” Hans said.
“I’m looking at you though,” I said.
“Okay,” Hans said. “Tell you what. We let this game get going and then make the call. Deal? We’ll give these people a hell of a show.”
“It’s not about the game or the fans,” I said. “It’s about right now.”
I crossed over the line and Hans turned to face me.
There was a collective mumbling from those already in attendance.
A pre-game altercation would get everyone excited.
But this wasn’t about game strategy or planning.
This was personal.
This was serious.
This was me losing my damn mind over a woman.
I went right for Hans.
I wasn’t the same kind of hockey player like guys like Remi and Abel.
But I knew how to fight. I had more than a few fights in my lifetime too.
I grabbed Hans’s jersey and pulled him toward me.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Hans yelled.
I swung.
My left hand first came across his nose and blood exploded all over the ice.
I punched him again.
And again.
I didn’t give him a chance to take a swing either.
Was this a dirty fight?
Yes, it was.
I was a complete asshole for this kind of move.
But all I could think about was what he did to Madison and her father.