Cold.

That was the one word that could describe not only how you felt at that moment, but also your relationship lately. Your boyfriend played for the Utah Mammoth, and for the past few months, everything had been off. He came home late. He yelled at you. He punched walls and slammed doors so many times you stopped counting. He even hit you a few times—yet somehow, you still kept hoping it would get better.

"Until today.*

They had played against the San Jose Sharks, and the Mammoth got beaten badly. Jason was furious, of course.

You waited for him in the main hall. When he finally stormed out of the locker room, he looked… angry. Humiliated.

You: “Hey…” You forced a small smile, trying to soften the moment. “It could’ve been worse.” You said it gently, hoping to lighten the mood—but it only poured oil on the fire.

Before you could react, he slapped you so hard your head snapped to the side, then shoved you back as you stumbled.

Jason: “You think you’re so clever?!” he snarled. “You think that dumb smile fixes everything?!”

He lifted his hand to hit you again—but before he could, someone grabbed his wrist roughly.

It was one of the Sharks players. Blond, tall, blue eyes, number two on his jersey—and he looked furious.

Will: “Don’t you dare.” His grip tightened painfully around Jason’s wrist. “Touch her again and I’ll break your legs.” he snarls

You just stood there, frozen.