“Nice try, fucker,” Asher says, skating past me and managing to steal the puck like it’s effortless for him.
And maybe it is, because as much as I’ve tried to tell myself that tonight’s game is just another game, it’s becoming obvious that it’s more than that. It’s the first time I’ve seen my old teammates since I got traded to the Vancouver Rebels. And it’s only the second time I’ve skated in my new red jersey. Let’s just say I might be feeling the pressure.
I sprint to catch up with him, checking him hard into the corner. “Can’t let you make me look like a punk in my own house. Especially not with my wife watching in the stands.”
“I’m not going to go easy on you.” Asher grunts, freeing himself from my hold.
“Never asked you to.”
I focus my attention on getting down the ice, crossing
