Chapter 134: When Jett Snapped

Chapter 134

Jett’s POV

The cold hit me the second I pushed through the arena doors, the icy air sharp and familiar, settling into my lungs in a way I was already used to.

Four days in Germany, and this was my first time stepping into the arena. In normal situations, one would be happy and would want to explore the unknown and try out new things. Even have new likes and dislikes and all that kind of nonsense.

But this wasn’t under normal circumstances.

The past few days before I traveled hadn’t been easy to get through.

Not at all.

It was all I could do to stop myself from punching the faces of my father and brother every damn time I set my eyes on them.

But to be honest, I just wanted Kim back.

I really, really wanted her back.

And for that, I was going to keep going.

My grip tightened around my stick as I made my way down the hallway, the distant scrape of skates already echoing from the rink.

As much as I wanted to stay inside and drown in my misery, I couldn’t. My team was calling out to me, and I was still their captain, of course. That would be bad leadership.

And I was not a bad leader.

My eyes moved automatically, taking everything in. Some were already running drills on their own, while some were on the ice already, spinning and practicing their defense, their goals, their shots, and their stamina.

They seemed fit and fine. Like they were all ready to win this thing and take the trophy back with us.

Now I just needed to know the people I was playing with. I thought to myself as I reached for the phone in my pocket, dialing Black’s number the second I pulled it out.

He picked on the second ring.

“You called?” His thick voice came from the other end. “Funny. To think you haven’t called me in a while.”

I rolled my eyes, not fighting the small smile that formed on my lips. “You know these few weeks have been really tough for me.”

“Yeah…” he said softly, like he really did understand. “I know.” There was a small moment of silence before I remembered the point of the call.

“Anyways…” I immediately cleared my throat. “I’m calling you because I want you to do something for me.”

He scoffed. "Well, we can all tell that’s obvious.”

A ghost of a smile grazed my lips, but I didn’t say anything about it. “I’m going to need you to do a background check on my team.” My jaw clenched as I took in the group of guys skidding over the ice. “I want to know the people that I’ll be playing with.”

“Sure thing. I’ll get back to you by the end of the day.”

I hummed a reply, nodding before ending the call. Taking one glance at the guys again, I headed into the locker room to drop off my stuff.

It smelt like tape, leather, and some other familiar things. I dropped my bag and unzipped it, my fingers practically moving on autopilot—shoulder pads, elbow pads, gloves, and mouth guard.

I changed into my jersey quickly, putting on everything I needed and grabbing my stick before leaving. I wasn’t sure most of them noticed me when I walked in earlier, because now, wearing my gear, I got more than a few glances.

So either some of them only recognized me in uniform, or they were too busy practicing to even notice.

By the time I stepped on the ice and did a few laps, someone else had arrived, and we were finally enough for a practice match.

I felt my grip tighten on my stick at the thought.

Finally, I could let out all the frustration I’ve been holding in for God knows how long.

“Alright, alright, bring it in!” I turned to see that it was the coach speaking, his voice cutting through noise as the team gathered quickly.

At least my father and brother weren’t here to piss me off. I don’t think I’ll be able to refrain from hitting them any more.

He split us into two teams, and I could tell that literally everyone was excited to be here. One of them even came up to me and introduced himself, but I was so in my head that I didn’t even get his name.

Well, I was never one to be good with names anyway. Besides, I didn’t come here to make friends. I came here to win and take back the trophy.

I suppose fate was working against that motive—the one about not making friends—because that guy was on my team. He flashed me a friendly grin, and I blinked, not knowing if I should wave at him or nod. I ended up looking away.

The coach blew the whistle, and the game began. Lines formed, and tension rose, as we all understood that this wasn’t just practice—it was a test to see our abilities.

But I didn’t give a damn about that. I knew I was making the team anyway. Not because I was the captain—no—but because I was an excellent player.

I took my position, knees bending slightly, the grip on my stick firm. The puck dropped, and everything happened in a flash.

I moved instinctively, reading every play as it unfolded. I intercepted a pass, pushed forward, then redirected, sending it cleanly across the ice.

A near goal.

My jaw tightened.

Definitely not enough.

My movements were sharp; I could even feel the coach’s gaze on me. Maybe he said something about it, maybe he didn’t. I wasn’t concentrating, at least not mentally. All I could think about was her, Kim. And how I wanted her back again.

I think I even played a bit rougher than I normally did. But that didn’t matter; hockey was rough. Besides, I was only letting out my frustration; everyone needed an outlet at least once in their life.

And I’d lost mine, so I guess it’s back to the original now.

I cut across the ice, tracking the puck, already anticipating the pass before it was made. It came sharply, slightly off-angle, and I pushed forward to intercept on instinct. However, I didn’t see the other player until it was too late.

And then, we collided.

The impact was solid, unforgiving, and the type that rattled through the bone, but it wasn’t the first time I’d taken a hit like this.

Everything slowed for a half a second. And then…

“What the hell was that?” the guy snapped, his voice sharp with pain as he tried to push himself up, only to falter. He sucked in a breath, face tightening. “Are you trying to take someone out or what?”

It took me everything I had not to roll my eyes as I got up. “I went for the puck. You were in my way.”

He looked stunned by the words, like he would get up and hit me if he could. “What the hell is your problem? You think you can play rough because no one is saying anything about it?!”

“Hockey’s a rough game, boy,” the coach intercepted, literally taking the words out of my mouth as he squatted down to check his injury. “You should know that.”

"Well, he should also know that he can’t go around hurting unapologetically!” he gritted out. “A good 'sorry, man’ would be fine, and I don’t hear it.”

I stared down at him, trying not to lose my cool as he rambled on. “You’re just one of those stupid incompetent fools who only play rough just to cover up how much they suck.”

Oh, that did it.

I lunged at him before anyone could stop me, punching him in the face, then grabbing the front of his jersey and pulling him forward. Even the damn coach and the other players couldn’t stop me.

“If I were you, I’d watch your mouth.” I seethed. I wasn’t surprised when he returned my glare even though his mouth was bleeding.

“Enough!”