to the side. Rylie staring at him, lips cocked in a half smile.
Henrik released his hold and let the official force him to the side. He shoved away as soon as the guy let him go, scanning the scene.
“Back off,” the official warned, face in his, hand to his chest.
Erikson had dropped to a knee, hand under his bloodied nose. He’d be fine. At worst, he had a broken nose. Nowhere close to the dislocated hip and torn ligaments Rylie had suffered.
Henrik skated away, Hauke joining him with a slap to his back. “Nice job. Coach will have your ass later.” He left to do his captain’s job and deal with the officials.
Henrik didn’t even look at the Glaciers’ bench, just skated straight to the penalty box and stepped in. Boos followed him, and fists hammered against the Plexiglas that surrounded the Sin Bin. He took it all in and shoved it right back out. The fans had a right to be pissed that their guy took a beating. Especially if they had no idea why it’d happened.
This fight was between Erikson and the Glaciers, not Boston.
Rylie skated by the penalty box, made eye contact and nodded, glove raised in acknowledgement. Henrik hadn’t needed that, but it went a long way in settling the unrest that’d been bubbling in him for months.
He’d done the right thing. Stuck up for his friend. Defended the team’s rep and sent out the warning to other players. The Glaciers didn’t forget and they took care of their own.
This was another kind of family. One that had served him well for many years. Yet this wasn’t the only family he wanted in his future. This had been good enough for a long time, but now he knew better.
Jacqui might say she didn’t want him, but he didn’t believe it. He trusted the love he felt with her, the caring her touch held. Whatever her issue was, he didn’t believe it was about him or even them. Hopefully, she’d talk to him and he’d listen this time. If not, he’d figure it out and show her that whatever it was, he’d be there for her. She was the more—the family—he wanted in his future.
If it was the cancer again, then he’d be there to fight it with her, kick its ass another time and relish every moment he had with her. Because even a little time would be better than none at all. The last four days had more than proven that.
* * *
The fight played across the television screen in close-up glory, interrupted by camera changes and other players. Blood covered the lower face of the Boston player, and Henrik continued to punch him, face screwed up in snarled focus.
The cheers and yells overwhelmed the cramped room, most of Jacqui’s family on their feet rooting for Henrik. She couldn’t move though. Couldn’t catch her breath to make a sound. Her hand was clasped over her mouth, shock and fear blending to render her frozen.
“Kick his ass, Roller.”
“Yeah. Nail him.”
“Hit him again. That asshole deserves it.”
She understood enough about the hockey mindset to get the fight and cheering. Half of the Thanksgiving meal conversation had been steeped in the debate on if the Glaciers were going to retaliate against Erikson for the hit to Rylie last season. Yet she hadn’t anticipated Henrik being the one who’d dole out the revenge.
And still she couldn’t tear her eyes away. She’d missed him so damn much she was willing to watch him fight on TV just to see his face. To absorb everything she could of him.
The fight finally broke up after what seemed like hours but was probably less than a minute. Henrik shrugged the official off and skated away. She caught a glimpse of a hard scowl that pulled his brow and flattened his lips. The shot cut back to Erikson, who was still kneeling on the ice, blood running freely down his face to drip bright red onto the frozen surface.
The sportscasters jabbered on about revenge and payback and Henrik stepping up to defend his partner, all of it meaning little to Jacqui. The camera cut back to Henrik entering the penalty box, stone-faced and expressionless, before the network took a commercial break.
“That’s a good man you got there, Jacqui.” Her uncle patted her shoulder, grinning with solid approval.
“Are you going to kiss his bruises when he gets home?” Isaac teased.
“Shut up, jerkwad,” Finn said over the laughs, smacking Isaac on the leg. “That’s my sister.”
“And