Morrison laughed again, but it was hollow, forced. He didn’t have any other cards to play. Idiot.

Where was the linesman with the puck? My patience was waning by the second.

After being released from unofficial probation, the last thing I needed was to get right back on—or to receive a multiple-game suspension. Especially when Coach Miller had given me yet another stern lecture this morning about “staying on the right path.” I was living under a goddamn microscope.

And yet, the temptation to cause Morrison bodily harm was almost too great to ignore.

I wanted to rag doll him.

“Huh,” he said, studying me intently like the creep he was. “Interesting…”

I glanced over at him again. “Did you not hear me the first time I said to shut the fuck up?”

“Just surprised you don’t care more about her.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it’s not that surprising, given your reputation.”

The edges of my sight grayed out, my vision tunneling and my aggravation levels topping out. My frustration was at a record level. Even worse, I was frustrated about being frustrated.

No one got to me like this. Ever.

Because I did care, and he was lucky for it. I cared about James too much to throw everything I knew in his face. I never would, but damn if I didn’t want to. Hell, I’d love to send out a Callingwood-wide email with a CC to his parents to show them what garbage he’d turned out to be.

At this point, I was dangerously close to choking him with my Vapor FlyLite. But even my hockey stick deserved better than Morrison.

“Do you want me to smash your fucking face in?”

“Oh, I don’t think Bailey would approve…” he retorted.

The minute he said her name, my blood pressure spiked so high I nearly stroked out. Everything went red.

Taking a penalty was inevitable.

My gaze snapped over to the bench, where Coach Miller was busy talking to the guys. Taking a few quick strides, I came to a stop in front of Morrison, staring him down with my jaw clenched like a bear trap.

It took every shred of self-restraint I had to keep my gloves on.

“Listen fuckface. I’ll put you on notice once and only once.” My voice was laced with menace and poison. “Feel free to shit talk me all day long, but leave Bailey out of it. Don’t talk about her, don’t talk to her. Stay the hell away from her, and you and I will be fine.”

Morrison glanced over my shoulder, probably to check if Paul was standing by in case he needed rescuing. But Paul would never be fast enough to save his sorry ass from me.

“Or what?” he said, trying and failing to sound tough.