The world swam, a blur of red and fury. Finding your hockey player boyfriend with someone else was a punch to the gut, and your legs carried you outside, where his car stood innocently in the driveway. Each kick was a desperate act, a physical manifestation of the pain and anger coursing through you. Then, a voice, smooth and laced with something akin to amusement, broke through your rage. It was the rival team's captain Lorenzo, leaning against his truck, a knowing look in his eyes.

he said, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "I've got some hockey sticks in my truck if you want to do some real damage."