Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(64)
“So you watched the game?” he asked as he pulled a slice from the box to his plate.
I nodded. “First night I’ve been able to, actually. Since the concussion.”
He stiffened a little. “Oh. Right. Yeah, I can’t watch hockey after I’ve taken one to the head. Makes me seasick.”
“Exactly. So that”—I gestured at his face—“is just a bruise? No concussion?”
“Nah, they checked me out. They’d bench me for a while if I had a concussion. This is just a welt. It’ll heal.”
“Looked like he got you pretty good, though.”
He laughed as he plucked a piece of pepperoni off the pizza. “Eh, he gave as good as he got.” He tossed the pepperoni into his mouth. “He was fucking stupid to pick a fight with me, too.” He shook his head. “His team was on a hell of a power play. Two of our defensemen were in the penalty box. If he’d stayed out on the ice with those numbers, we’d have been fucked.”
I arched an eyebrow. “And he still took a swing at you?”
Asher nodded. “The, uh, game was pretty heated from the beginning.”
“So I noticed.”
“Right? So I think it was only a matter of time before someone started a fight. In this case, I checked one of his defensemen. Knocked both of us off balance, but he went down and I kept going. And I scored. After that, this forward… He came at me shouting, I flipped him off, and…” He gestured at his face.
I laughed. “Yeah, the commentators had a lot to say about who actually started it.”
“I won’t lie.” He shrugged. “I know the dude—he’s got a hot temper when he’s on the ice, and so do I. It was only a matter of time. He was just stupid.” Asher took a bite of his pizza. “They still had a power play after that, though. One of our guys was coming out of the box, fortunately, but I was going in for five and so was he. So the numbers were a bit more even on the ice, and they’d lost one of their best forwards.”
“To be fair, so had you guys.”
He looked a little sheepish but shrugged. “My guys do just fine without me.”
“They’d probably prefer not to.”
“Probably. But they all agreed he was the asshole in that situation, and any one of them would have laid him out for throwing that punch.”
I watched him as I picked up my own slice of pizza. It was so weird, listening to someone who’d been a victim of domestic violence talking so matter-of-factly about a fight on the ice. I’d known since before I met Asher that he didn’t shy away from throwing down with another player, but now, knowing what I did about him, and while I was wearing a bruise from his violent ex and he was wearing one from a hockey fight—I had to admit it was kind of weird.
After I’d taken a few bites of pizza—damn, this place really was good—I said, “Can I ask you a question that you don’t have to answer?”
He held my gaze. “Since I don’t have to answer, sure.”
I watched him for a moment, picking my words carefully. “After everything you went through with Nathan, does it bother you? The fights on the ice?”
Asher broke eye contact. I thought he might take me up on the offer not to answer, but finally, he sighed, set the icepack on the coffee table, and sat back against the couch. “I don’t know how much sense it makes, or how rational it is, but it’s different.”
“How so?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Maybe he needed to get it all straight in his head first. After a moment, he took a breath. “It did bother me for a while. The first time someone took a swing at me after Nathan had hit me?” He whistled. “That was…not a good night. Hockey was becoming my escape from him, and yeah, it fucked with me for a while. But after a while, it didn’t.”
“Why’s that?”
More silence. Another deep breath. Then he set his pizza on his plate and sat back. “The thing is, fighting is part of hockey. It’s… I mean, it’s probably not the healthiest thing, but when I go out on the ice, I know what I’m getting myself into. Being a hockey player means signing up for a lot of things, including possibly fighting. If a fight does break out, there are refs and other players who will step in before it gets out of hand. We’ve got pads on, so I’m not going to fall against a doorknob and wind up with a huge bruise on my back. Plus, when it’s over, I couldn’t give a damn if the other guy still likes me.”
“So it’s a controlled environment, in a way.”
“In a way, yeah. That, and Nathan had me believing I deserved it and that people would think I was a pussy if I ever said anything about it. There was… There was this psychological side of it that was worse than the physical shit. And…” He closed his eyes and released a long breath. “When I’m fighting with someone on the ice, I’m not scared of him. And I’m not scared of him leaving.” He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head again. “It sounds crazy when I say it all out loud. Like I’m rationalizing the shit out of this. And maybe I am. So I don’t know if it makes sense to anyone else. Going toe to toe with someone on the ice is part of playing hockey.” He swallowed, and his eyes met mine. “It shouldn’t be part of being in a relationship, you know?”