ALL THE RAGE (writer: T.M. Frazier)(52)

She was.

“Wait. I thought you were allowed to fight in hockey?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

I scratched the stubble on my chin and tried to figure out how to explain hockey fighting to Rage. “Well, fighting technically isn’t allowed or not allowed. It’s an unwritten rule that you can fight. Players go by a sort of unofficial code of guidelines. It’s pretty complex actually. But I’m pretty sure no matter what league you’re in, you’re not allowed to fight the coach. That’s where my dad went wrong.”

“Oh,” Rage said, biting on the side of her thumb.

“Anyway, without my dad around, and with Gramps getting on in years, I started hanging around with my uncle a lot. He wasn’t really my uncle, but someone my gramps knew. He let me hang around his shop when I was just a kid, and when I got older, he gave me a job repairing motorcycles. Took me under his wing.” When I paused, Rage nodded for me to continue. “He went by Joker, that was his road name. He was VP of the Warriors at the time. He’s our Prez now. I grew up in the club. In the life. Patched in when I was sixteen.” I ran my teeth over my bottom lip. “I know you recognized my tattoo, but how familiar are you with MCs?” I asked, making sure she could follow what I was telling her without getting hung up on club details she might not understand.

Rage looked off at the beach and then back to me. “I told you. I grew up watching them. They were around. Believe it or not, I didn’t grow up that far from here, so I’ve seen that symbol before. But it’s not my turn yet. If I have a question about something you tell me, I will ask,” she said very matter-of-factly. “Oh, I do actually. What did your grandparents think about you joining the club?”

I shook my head and smiled, recalling the look on Gramps’s face the day I got my patch. “Gramps was an old school biker himself. Loved the road more than he loved anything besides my gran. Old man was over the f*cking moon when I became a brother.”

“But you still played hockey?” Rage asked. “That seems a bit odd.”

“Yeah, it was part of the deal actually. I wanted to be a Warrior since I figured out what they were, but Joker and my Gramps got together and decided that I couldn’t patch in unless I agreed to keep playing hockey and graduate high school.” I blew out a breath. “I thought the second I graduated that I’d be done with hockey and school and was set on full-time club life, but there was this scout at my last game. He talked to me for a bit after. I didn’t think anything of it. Next thing I know, the coach for State was on the phone asking me to play for him. A scholarship offer arrived by next-day courier on my front door step. Rest is history.”

“The club let you out?” Rage asked, sounding surprised.

She must have known a little about club life to even ask the question, but it was cute she thought leaving the club while breathing was even a possibility. It wasn’t, not in my club anyway.

“I never left the club. I was in it then and I’m in it now. All the way in. Joker told me that I couldn’t pass up the opportunity so he practically forced me to go.” I ran my hand over my arm. “Coach knew what I was into. Said I could play, but I couldn’t flash my colors. I had to leave my cut at home and these as well.” I held out my arm so Rage could see the very faded remnants of my old Warrior tattoos. “Hurt like a bitch getting the tattoos removed from my arms, but I went in and got the back piece at the same time. Back is a lot easier to hide than your arms, and that way even when I was out on the ice and I was still representing my brothers in some way.”

“You must be someone special for them to make that deal with you.”

You have no idea.

“Before I left, Joker had planned on passing me the gavel. When I got the scholarship, he decided he wasn’t going to change those plans until he saw where the hockey thing was gonna take me.” I scoffed. “Now that I’m back he’s been calling nonstop, wants to make shit official. VP then Prez, but I don’t think I’m ready. Not yet anyway. I know once I put that cut back in it means I’m giving up on hockey. I’m not ready to do that just yet.” I looked down at the scar on my knee. “After I got hurt I ready to come back here and jump right back into club life after I spent some time alone being pissed off at the world.”

“What made you change your mind?” Rage asked.

“This girl. I don’t know if you know her.” I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “But she came out of nowhere. The most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on.” Rage smiled. “She saved my life.”

“And your dog’s,” Rage added.

“Yeah, and my dog’s,” I admitted. “The morning after I almost died, I changed my mind. I know it’s a long shot, but I’m not ready to give up on this ole leg. Think she might still have some miles on her yet.”

“Is that it?” Rage asked, tilting her head.

“Is what it?”

“You made it seem like you had more to tell. You said something about your parents,” Rage said, biting her thumb.

Oh yeah, that little piece of information.

“As I said, my parents were bad people. I came here for a quick day visit while the team was passing through town. My parents were here…” I ground my teeth together and gripped the armrest.

“And?” Rage asked.