Near the end of the second period, Christian is called for high-sticking. He doesn’t care—the shot he took hit the edge of the goal, rebounded off the goalie’s skate, then landed in the net for the score. The Blizzard are up five to one, and he allows himself a victory lap before heading for the penalty box. The coach will call him on the showboating, he knows, but at this point? He doesn’t care.
In the box, he absently scratches at his left wrist as he watches the shifts change on the ice. Ronnie comes out, and though Christian stares right at him—the guy has to feel it—Ronnie doesn’t look his way. Christian tugs on the sleeve of his jersey and hears a crinkle as he rubs his wrist. With a frown, he pulls back the sleeve to find the piece of paper Ronnie slipped him in the hall.
It’s tor
