“Saatana,” I curse as I nearly take a puck to the face. It whacks off the crossbar and hits my shoulder before dropping into the net. White scores because I was too busy watching my coach flirt with the pretty doctor to guard my damn goal. “Head in the game, Mars!” Sully barks at me. I shake my head. What the hell just happened? Was I bewitched? Nothing breaks my concentration on the ice. Anger bubbles in my chest. I don’t like that I was distracted. Focus.
