The game continued, but we were all out for blood now. It was hard and dirty on both sides. Third period came around, and the original defenseman was on Rigby’s line again. Fucking asshole. He was getting in Rigby’s face, saying shit that the refs couldn’t hear. Finally, whatever he was saying got too much for Rigby, and he spun, lifting his stick high and nailing the fucker in the face when he went for the puck.

It could have been an accident, even when they replayed the tapes. They’d both been skating fast, Rigby had turned hard and got the other guy in the face just below his fucking helmet. Straight in the teeth. His mouthguard went flying, and there was blood on his chin.

It could have been an accident—if it wasn’t Rigby, who had better stick control than any person I’d ever met.

Ref called a game misconduct penalty, and Rigby got sent off. Muss argued with the ref that it was a minor penalty, just an accident, but he wasn’t hearing it. One of the rookie IceCap players got subbed in and gameplay resumed, but out of the corner of my eye, I watched Rigby head toward the locker room.

The player he checked was now missing a tooth and on the bench, but it didn't stop him smirking at me. That fucker better hope I don’t catch him in the parking lot, because he’s going to be missing a lot more teeth.

In the end, we scraped by with a win in the last five minutes, and the crowd was still going nuts. It was more like a blood sport than a hockey game, and with one look at Toons’s face, I knew we were in deep shit. I was going to be chewed out by him and Monderra and probably the media.

Let them. Some things were worth fighting for, and Nova was one of them.

All press requests for Rigby or I were denied, and we were sent home in disgrace. Toons said that Monderra wanted to see us the following day, and that was without the possibility of NHL sanctions.

We got home to find it silent. Dev was on the couch, still in his suit pants and dress shirt, a scotch in his hand. He looked us over, and I knew we looked rough.

“Did she see?” Rigby asked roughly. Dev nodded, and my normally happy friend made a wounded noise. “I’m going to bed.”

We both watched him go. My heart hurting, I went to the wet bar in the corner, unlocking the cabinet and pouring myself a drink. Slumping down beside Dev, I let my shoulders curl inward as I buried my head in my hands. “This is bad.”

Dev hummed his agreement. There were no two ways about it. It was bad for our relationship. Bad for our career. It was just… bad.