Read Online Hat Trick (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Lynn Tyler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lynn Tyler
Tags: Romance
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down. In the scheme of things, it wasn’t worth the penalty he would take if he retaliated.
“Fucking queer,” the other player spat at him.
Jeremy rolled his eyes and picked up his stick as he got back to his feet. As if he hadn’t heard worse in the last few days. He had no idea if Nathan was getting the same flack, but he was sick of it. Even if he were gay, it shouldn’t matter. He was good enough to play in the NHL as a straight man. Why not as a gay man?
Whatever. He turned to skate back to his bench, where his teammates were cheering him. The Sens’ defenseman kept even with him, jeering the whole way. “What’s the matter, butt boy? Too queeny to stand up for yourself? Tell me, do you top or bottom?”
Jeremy did his best to ignore the ignorant jerk, but the words were really starting to get to him. He was here to do his job. If he worked anywhere else, this treatment would be considered harassment. He hitched his chin up a little higher, determined to be the better man. He caught the concerned look Nathan was throwing his way just before something made contact across his back. He spun around and threw his stick down. “What the fuck is your problem, Matheson?”
The referees skated in a circle around them, monitoring the two of them carefully. Matheson threw his own stick and stood blade to blade with him. “You are. Homos shouldn’t be playing in the NHL! All you do is dilute the quality of the game.”
By this time the rest of his line was standing close by, ready to defend him if needed. Two of their teammates were holding Nathan back, keeping him from charging in like an enraged bull, but Jeremy had had it. “I’m not gay, asshole, but even if I were, I could skate circles around you any day.”
The Senators’ player dropped his gloves and came at him with lightning speed. Jeremy’s head snapped back as he took an upper cut to the jaw. Thank god he wore a mouth guard or he would be spitting out some teeth by now. That was it. He was sick of the looks random people were giving him when he passed them in the streets. He was tired of walking into the showers, only to have the rest of the team find an excuse to leave. He was done trying to be the better man. If Matheson didn’t respect a gentleman, then maybe he would respect someone a little more forceful.
Before the referees could drag the other man off the ice, Jeremy dropped his own gloves and charged, hitting Matheson in the chest with such force he toppled over. Jeremy straddled him and pummeled him everywhere he could reach.
Matheson gave as good as he got, and Jeremy briefly wondered if he would need to have his jaw set after a particularly hard punch. By the time the referees peeled them apart, blood was running down both their faces.
“Fucker broke my nose,” Matheson practically whined as he was escorted off the ice.
“It would be an improvement to his ugly mug,” Jeremy muttered as he allowed the other referee to lead him to his own bench. He walked right back into the locker room and sat down on the bench. Even if he only got a two-minute penalty, which he strongly doubted, there was no way he could go back into the game. Blood was pouring from a gash he’d received somewhere along the way, forcing him to wipe it out of his eyes every few seconds.
He slumped down and waited for the team doctor to come and stitch him up. He didn’t have to wait long. The older man came bustling in, brandishing syringes, needle, and thread. Jeremy flinched a little when the doctor injected a syringe full of lidocaine around the wound on his forehead. “What’d I get?” He winced when another injection was applied to the wound.
The doctor picked up his hands and looked at them while they waited for the lidocaine to do its job. “Five minutes and a game misconduct. Not that you’ll be playing on Friday anyway. Do your hands hurt at all?”
Jeremy looked down at his hands, surprised to see the knuckles were scraped and bruised. He
“Fucking queer,” the other player spat at him.
Jeremy rolled his eyes and picked up his stick as he got back to his feet. As if he hadn’t heard worse in the last few days. He had no idea if Nathan was getting the same flack, but he was sick of it. Even if he were gay, it shouldn’t matter. He was good enough to play in the NHL as a straight man. Why not as a gay man?
Whatever. He turned to skate back to his bench, where his teammates were cheering him. The Sens’ defenseman kept even with him, jeering the whole way. “What’s the matter, butt boy? Too queeny to stand up for yourself? Tell me, do you top or bottom?”
Jeremy did his best to ignore the ignorant jerk, but the words were really starting to get to him. He was here to do his job. If he worked anywhere else, this treatment would be considered harassment. He hitched his chin up a little higher, determined to be the better man. He caught the concerned look Nathan was throwing his way just before something made contact across his back. He spun around and threw his stick down. “What the fuck is your problem, Matheson?”
The referees skated in a circle around them, monitoring the two of them carefully. Matheson threw his own stick and stood blade to blade with him. “You are. Homos shouldn’t be playing in the NHL! All you do is dilute the quality of the game.”
By this time the rest of his line was standing close by, ready to defend him if needed. Two of their teammates were holding Nathan back, keeping him from charging in like an enraged bull, but Jeremy had had it. “I’m not gay, asshole, but even if I were, I could skate circles around you any day.”
The Senators’ player dropped his gloves and came at him with lightning speed. Jeremy’s head snapped back as he took an upper cut to the jaw. Thank god he wore a mouth guard or he would be spitting out some teeth by now. That was it. He was sick of the looks random people were giving him when he passed them in the streets. He was tired of walking into the showers, only to have the rest of the team find an excuse to leave. He was done trying to be the better man. If Matheson didn’t respect a gentleman, then maybe he would respect someone a little more forceful.
Before the referees could drag the other man off the ice, Jeremy dropped his own gloves and charged, hitting Matheson in the chest with such force he toppled over. Jeremy straddled him and pummeled him everywhere he could reach.
Matheson gave as good as he got, and Jeremy briefly wondered if he would need to have his jaw set after a particularly hard punch. By the time the referees peeled them apart, blood was running down both their faces.
“Fucker broke my nose,” Matheson practically whined as he was escorted off the ice.
“It would be an improvement to his ugly mug,” Jeremy muttered as he allowed the other referee to lead him to his own bench. He walked right back into the locker room and sat down on the bench. Even if he only got a two-minute penalty, which he strongly doubted, there was no way he could go back into the game. Blood was pouring from a gash he’d received somewhere along the way, forcing him to wipe it out of his eyes every few seconds.
He slumped down and waited for the team doctor to come and stitch him up. He didn’t have to wait long. The older man came bustling in, brandishing syringes, needle, and thread. Jeremy flinched a little when the doctor injected a syringe full of lidocaine around the wound on his forehead. “What’d I get?” He winced when another injection was applied to the wound.
The doctor picked up his hands and looked at them while they waited for the lidocaine to do its job. “Five minutes and a game misconduct. Not that you’ll be playing on Friday anyway. Do your hands hurt at all?”
Jeremy looked down at his hands, surprised to see the knuckles were scraped and bruised. He
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