Ronald was taping his stick, having already put on all his equipment, except for his gloves and helmet. Next to him, Chris was lacing his ice-skates.
"The Renegades have a new player," he said casually, pulling on one lace.
"Any good?"
"Very fast, for all I've heard."
"Coming from where?"
"Dunno. North, I think. Totally new here."
"O or D?"
"Offence. Think of it, Ronny, a new forward means a new adversary for you!"
Ronald laughed briefly as he put down his stick.
"I'm scared," he said sarcastically.
"You should. Look, here she comes," indicated Chris, going on the ice.
"What?" reacted Ronald.
"There, that's the one with Randy."
Two newcomers had entered the ice; the tallest had his hand on the shoulder of the other, who was a slender girl wearing a white jersey with the number 14. The one Chris had called Randy said to the girl:
"Be careful with the Beast."
"The Beast?" she repeated wonderingly, half-smiling.
"Ronald, the defenseman. He likes to play rough; he rarely gets penalties, but he won't be nice to you because you're a girl."
"I don't expect him to either," she said, determined.
"Keep the warning in mind even so!"
She smiled as she began to skate on the ice, stick in left hand.
"A girl?" said Ronald, almost choking.
"Seems so," shrugged Chris, shooting a puck in the net.
"She should better go back home. This is not a sport for girls!"
"Give her one chance, at least."
She was circling around the net, skating effortlessly, her blue eyes shining under her helmet. Randy joined her on the ice and little by little, the two teams came to skate or shoot pucks at their goalie.
As the whistle blew to signal the end of the warm-up time, the girl skated full-speed from the bench to the other side of the rink, slowed down brutally in a spray of ice and came back the same way to the bench. Randy was looking at her with a light smile, as if he already knew her habit, while the others had quite a surprised look.
She took place on the left wing, stick down; in front of her, near his net, was Ronald. Randy won the face-off and passed her the puck. She headed immediately toward the opposite net, avoiding easily the first player who tried to stop her, having only Ronald in front of her, the other defenseman following closely Randy. Ronald had a bad smile and, as she was lifting her stick to shoot, he threw himself in her legs; sliding on the ice he hit her and she fell on him, the blade of his stick hitting her on the forehead. She rolled on her back, swearing under her breath, then straightened up on one knee. She looked up at Ronald who was standing up.
"You alright, girl?" he asked.
"Don't call me 'girl'," she spat out between her teeth. "My name's Mary."
She stood up, stuck her right glove under her arm and wiped the drops of blood from her brow with the back of her hand before putting back her glove on.
"Alright, since that's how you take it..." she muttered.
Gerry, Ronald's goalie, had covered the puck, thus provoking a face-off in his defence zone. Randy took place in the circle, stick down, Mary outside the circle, just behind him. Once again, he won the face-off and passed her the puck; her eyes were glowing a determined glow when she lifted her stick and shot the puck with a powerful slap shot, sending the puck in the top left-hand corner of the net. Ronald couldn't believe his ears when the referee whistled for the goal while the Renegades were cheering.
"Nice shot, Mary," said Randy.
"Nice assist," she retorted with a wink and a smile.
After that, the Checks, Ronald's team, decided that, girl or not, they were not going to be nice to the newcomer. It seemed she was not very resistant, for she was often going back to the bench for a substitute. But each time she was coming back on the ice, she was skating full-speed, hard to catch. The first period ended with no other goals, though both teams had had more than one occasion. Surprisingly, no matter the efforts both teams were producing, no other goal was scored and the referee called the game, one to nothing for the Renegades. As the players were lining up to clasp hands with the other team, Ronald took advantage of the situation and crushed Mary's fingers in his huge hand. She slightly winced but didn't protest, saying simply, the same way she was saying to everybody else:
"Good game."
Their game was the last one of the evening so Ronald, instead of watching the following games as he usually did, went to a pub with the other players. Mary was already there, seated next to Randy, long blonde hair tied in a ponytail, wearing a Red Wings jersey with the number 14 on it, and Randy, as usual, was wearing his jersey of the New Jersey Devils.
"So, she's from Detroit?" Ronald asked to Chris.
"Seems so," shrugged his friend. "If you really want to know, go ask her."
"Certainly not. I don't care a bit."
"Ok, then I'm going to ask for you."
He went to Randy, sat by him and said:
"Hi, Randy. Would you be nice enough to make the presentations?"
"Chris, here is Shea Mary Brannon, our new forward. She's from Detroit, as you could guess."
"Shea Mary, huh?" said Ronald, putting his elbow near Mary's glass of Sprite.
"Skip the Shea," she suggested.
He pointed out the dog tags hanging around her neck.
"You were in the army?"
"No, they're my brother's. See, that's not my name on it!" she retorted, putting a tag just under his nose.
He could only see the name of her brother - Shawn - before she slipped the tags under her jersey.
"Nice slap shot," he commented, taking the seat next to her.
"Compared to yours, mine is baby slap shot," she said, taking a sip of her drink.
"Oh, you noticed, huh?"
"Hard not to notice. Remind me not to stay in front of you next time you take a shot."
"I would remind you not to stay in front of any of us. Today we were nice and quite surprised, that's the only reason why you could score. But now that we know what to expect, we won't be as easy on you."
"Great. I thought you were a bit weak, honestly; of course, you tried to play hard so that we couldn't score, but no real resistance. I had hoped better."
"Weak?" repeated Ronald, feeling insulted.
Next to them, Chris and Randy seemed to be listening to their conversation with amusement.
"No hard feelings, baby, it was just a remark in passing," she said, patting his shoulder.
She stood up, threw her heavy bag on her shoulder and took her two sticks. At the door of the pub, she looked back and said:
"Or maybe was your name Ronald? I like baby better. Chris, nice meeting you. Bye, Randy, see you next week."
"Bye, Mary, take care," replied Randy, hiding his smile.
The following week in question, Ronald, still infuriated, was there early as usual to see the first game, which was Renegades against Avengers. Chris, who had the same habit, though he was itching to go play with whoever was playing, came by his side.
"She's real fast, isn't she?" he commented, pointing out at Mary, who now wore a full helmet with a cage to protect her face.
"Yup. And good skater too."
"Efficient."
"Look at that move! Real smooth," added Ronald as Mary was easily avoiding the last defenseman, facing only the goalie.
Randy, skating really hard, managed to catch up with her and she passed him the puck as the goalie, anticipating a bit too much, was already on the ground, and Randy just had to lift the puck to score. Chris and Ronald banged against the window as the Renegades were cheering for their captain's goal. Mary turned swiftly on her skates, looking at the two Checks in surprise, as if she wasn't used to have people cheering for her. Chris waved at her with a large smile on his face while Ronald had a slow wolf smile. She stared at them for a brief instant and then skated to the bench as David was taking her place.
The Avengers tried hard to catch up with the Renegades who, at the end of the second period, were leading two to nothing. Oliver, captain of the Avengers, managed to pass the Renegades' defence and was ready to score as someone suddenly slid in front of him: Mary, back from the offence, had skated full-speed to try to avoid the goal. The puck, then the stick itself, hit her painfully in the ribs. With her hand she pushed the puck under herself so that the referee would have to call for a face-off. As soon as the whistle blew, she rolled on her side and tried to stand up. Rob, one of the defensemen, skated near her.
"You alright, Mary?"
She had a twisted smile behind her helmet.
"Yeah. He just broke one or two ribs," she commented cheerfully.
Nevertheless, her hand on her painful ribs, she slowly went to the bench and, once again, David took her place. Chris shook the head.
"Strange. All the players are more or less playing fair and nice, except you, Ron, of course," he added with a wink, "but as soon as this girl is on the ice, we are suddenly playing in a checking league. Oliver could easily have avoided the stick in her ribs."
Ronald nodded silently. The Avengers won the face-off and Oliver scored. Mary hit the wall with her fist, obviously cursing and she did it again, harder, as the Avengers scored again one minute after. Randy was skating back to the bench, with one minute twenty-five left before the end of the game. Mary stood up, ready to go, but he caught her by the arm and told her something. She vehemently shook the head, jerked free and skated to the left wing. Ronald and Chris both saw her clenched jaws and the determined look on her face. David, in the face-off circle, looked briefly at her and nodded slightly.
"Go on, beauty girl," whispered Chris, feeling as tense as he would have if he had played that same game. "Show them what you've got!"
Ronald had a surprised look for his friend, but reported his eyes on the game. David looked as determined as Mary and did all he could to win the face-off but Oliver managed to intercept the puck in his pass to Mary. The girl skated behind him and, as he was passing, smoothly stole the puck, and skated full-speed toward the opposite net. The Avengers defensemen skated back, watching her out, ready to block her... except that they never managed to do so. Swiftly she passed them, turned around the net as the goalie was blocking the way and shot the puck in the opposite corner. It hit the post and remained on the red line until David, arriving at full-speed, collided with the defenseman trying to recover the puck and pushed it into the net just before the goalie put his glove on the ice, missing the puck from an inch. The whistle blew and the clock stopped with forty-two seconds left. David tapped Mary on the helmet.
"Way to go, little beauty!" he said.
She grinned at him.
"Still alright?" she asked.
"You bet! What about you? Your ribs are still here?"
"They're going to last forty-two seconds, so no overtime. Ready to shoot at the net again?"
"Try me!" grinned David.
"That's my boy!" she retorted with a huge smile.
She took place in the face-off circle. Ronald noticed a slight slip of her left leg; obviously her ribs were hurting more than she wanted to acknowledge it. She won the face-off and passed immediately the puck to Rob behind her, as both David and she were skating forward. Rob shot the puck in David's stick just before he passed the Avengers defence zone line, Mary still following him. He shot the puck, straight to the top right-hand corner of the net and, as the goalie was in extension to get it, Mary tipped the puck on the other side, scoring the fourth and last goal just before the end of the third period.
"What a girl!" said Ronald. "I can't wait till the next game against the Renegades!"
"You are going to crush this poor girl," said Chris disapprovingly, shaking the head.
Ronald shrugged.
"Maybe, but at least, I'm sure she's not going to be afraid of the 'Beast'."
Chris had the grace to appear slightly embarrassed.
"How long have you known?"
"What? The nickname of 'Beast'? Almost from the very beginning. I'm not as stupid as you guys seem to think."
Mary passed near them, gloves stuck under her arm, helmet in one hand and her two sticks in the other.
"Hey, beauty!" called Ronald. "How are your ribs?"
She turned toward him, quite infuriated, but a strange smile passed on her lips as she recognised him.
"In far better state than they would have been if it had been your puck and your stick," she retorted.
Chris almost expected her to stick her tongue at Ronald.
"So you believe this story like what I'm a beast?" he asked casually.
She stopped and looked lengthily at him. Then she slightly cocked her head on the side and then, with a mischievous smile, replied:
"Well, if you are called the Beast because of the power which you shoot the puck with, yeah, I believe it. Otherwise, I don't care. I already tamed quite wild horses, I guess I could tame another wild beast."
To Chris's surprise, Ronald actually laughed.
"Hey, witty, beauty, huh?"
"Surprising, huh? Not all girls are 'be beautiful and keep quiet'. Some don't keep quiet and aren't beautiful at the same time."
Ronald cocked his eyebrows at her.
"Do you always think people are insulting you?" he inquired.
"Nope. Just most of the time," she replied with a slight laugh before leaving.
"Terrific," commented Ronald none-too-enthusiastically.
"Ron, you like her, don't you?" asked Chris wonderingly.
"She's a good player, of course I appreciate her way to play."
"No, I mean, you really like her."
Ronald turned to him.
"Now what? Before I was a beast, now I'm a puppy in love? Come on, Chris, don't play that game with me, that's really not your type."
"Ok, Ron, no need to get upset. That was just a question in passing."
"And that was just an answer in passing," retorted Ronald, heading toward the locker room as the zamboni was redoing the ice.
He almost bumped in Mary as she was coming out from the girls' locker room, clothed with her red jersey and white sweat pants.
"Wow, fast," he commented.
She had a quick smile and headed to the bleachers.
"She's going to watch the game!" exclaimed Chris, puzzled.
"Then what? You are afraid she's going to cheer for the Oilers instead of us?"
"Honestly, I don't think she's going to cheer at all."
"Why not? You did cheer for her, after all," shrugged Ronald.
Chris preferred not to answer.
Mary remained quiet during most of the game, whispering some encouragements that nobody could hear from the ice. At one moment though, as Ronald got a penalty for tripping, she stood up and protested:
"Oh, come on, he was playing the puck!"
Ronald had a weird smile from the penalty box but he didn't contest the referee's call. As soon as he went back on the ice, Chris smiled to him while skating back to the bench.
"Obviously she likes you too," he said, with a quick gesture toward Mary.
Ronald growled, not too happy with the remark, and shot the puck too hard, sending it on the other side of the rink. The referee called for icing and the puck came back in the Checks' defence zone. As one of the Oilers' fans cheered on a foul committed by his team, Mary grinded his teeth and snapped:
"If you want to see a fight, go watch wrestling, not hockey!"
"Who do you think you're fooling? The guy whose penalty you protested against is one of the most checking players!"
"I don't deny the fact. But on that call, he was really playing the puck. And as for fooling someone, don't try that on me: all the calls against your team that you protested against, you would have cheered for them if it had been against the Checks."
"Are you asking for troubles, girl?"
"Not yet," she retorted, smiling sweetly. "But if you really want me to, I can try to make you happy on that."
The man almost pounced on her as she stood up calmly. Then a big bang on the pane separating them from the ice rink startled them: Ronald was there, fist still against the pane, eyes blazing like fire, and he was growling like the beast he was nicknamed after.
"Oh I see," said the man.
"Obviously, he doesn't like you too much," replied Mary.
"Or he likes you too much."
"Nonsense. I'm just sort of a teammate."
The man gave her a quizzical look but she chose not to notice it. She turned her gaze back to the game, purely ignoring the Oilers' fan while Ronald was winking to Mary as he was passing in front of her. She chose to ignore that too. The game ended up with a victory for the Checks as Chris scored a shorthanded goal one minute before the final whistle.
The zamboni was still redoing the ice that Ronald was already out of the locker rooms, in jeans and sweater, his huge bag on his shoulder, coming straight to the bleachers. He sat next to Mary, arbitrarily took her Gatorade bottle and drank all that was left of it. He had a wolf smile as she looked at him in surprise.
"What, beauty, you didn't know that I was very rude too?" he asked casually, throwing the bottle in the trash.
"Nah," she answered, "nobody took the trouble to tell me. And if they had, I wouldn't have listened, anyway."
"Oh no? How is it?"
"I like to make my own opinion on people, thank you."
"Good thing, beauty, good thing. Mind if I watch the game with you?"
Mary mentally thanked heaven for the departure of the Oilers' fan before Ronald came to the bleachers and cocked the head on the side.
"Seems to me you already invited yourself, but be my guest."
"Touché, beauty!" laughed Ronald. "I was just trying to be polite, for once. The only girl playing in the league may deserve a better treatment."
"Don't!" Mary warned him. "I am a hockey player first, not a girl. The fact that I'm a girl should be totally secondary, since I guess nobody can really forget it."
"Alright, miss Shea Mary Brannon, playing the tough girl with borrowed dog tags around her neck!" replied Ronald, not vexed at all, but liking to tease her.
She ignored his cutting remark and looked at the ice where the first players had made their entry. Chris joined them, making no comments when he saw Ronald and Mary seated side by side. The game was Black Falcons against Coyotes and it became quite obvious to Ronald that Mary's eyes were most of the time on the Coyotes' players. He had a curious smile and fumbled in his bag, looking for his hockey schedule. The next week the Renegades were playing against the Coyotes; he had been right, she was watching the games to study each team so that she would know their style, their strengths and weaknesses.
"What a girl!" he murmured for himself.
Both Chris and Mary heard him; Chris hid his smile and Mary just slightly started, but didn't look at him. He noticed that her hand had closed in a fist as in nervousness and he wondered why when she had been so confident in all their - short - conversations having happened before. At the end of the game, she jumped on her feet, threw her bag on her shoulder, stammered some goodbye or other and left almost running, leaving the two men stunned.
"Wow, we really scared her," commented Chris.
"Not you, just me. Apparently, she is as scared of the 'Beast' as anybody else."
"Nope, don't think so. She doesn't fear you as a hockey player, but as a man."
"And what is it supposed to mean?" asked Ronald suspiciously.
"Whatever you want it to mean," replied Chris, taking his bag and leaving too.
Ronald growled none-too-happily and took his bag also, heading for his car.
His anger vanished, only curiosity remained and Ronald waited for the next Sunday with impatience. He was at the ice rink half an hour before the beginning of the first game, his bag on the ground, talking from time to time with Coyotes' or Renegades' players. Then Mary showed up, her gear already on, except for the helmet, the gloves and the skates. Ronald noticed immediately that she was trying to hide her right hand, quite successfully by the way. He came to her, his large back hiding her from the other players.
"Hi, beauty. How is it going today?"
"Quite good, actually. Hope it's the same for you," she replied politely.
"Yup, thanks for asking. Mind if I have a look at your hand?"
She looked at him as if she didn't understand so he took her right hand in his and held his breath. The back of her hand was covered with knife wounds and the scab on some had broken. She snatched her hand from his, half-blushing, and hid it behind her bag.
"Don't do that," she said nervously.
"What happened?"
She shook the head.
"Shea, tell me. That's no use to hide it from me, I'm not going to hurt you. But if that guy last week did that to you, he will regret it."
"No, it's not the Oilers' fan. Well, my boyfriend doesn't take well the fact I'm playing hockey here and he likes even less the fact that the guys here are friendly to me."
"So he stabbed you with a knife?" asked Ronald incredulously.
"It didn't really happen like that, but it doesn't matter. I'm left-handed for hockey, so that's alright. I can play, don't worry."
"Gosh, and when I think that I am called the Beast, how should he be called!"
She had a shy smile.
"See what I meant when I told you I didn't care for you being a beast?"
"Why do you stay with him?"
She shivered.
"Better not to ask," she mumbled before leaving abruptly to get ready.
Ronald frowned, not liking this answer for a bit. He stopped Randy passing near him.
"Quick question for you."
"Shoot."
"What do you know about Mary?"
Randy smiled.
"Not much. She showed up, asked if she could play, showed me what she could do and then she was integrated. Why do you ask? Is there a problem?"
"Just curious. Did you notice anything strange by then?"
"Nope. Should I have?"
"Not really."
"Ron, tell me what's wrong. You're scaring me!"
"Nothing. Just me doing my usual inquisition job. A girl as silent and good player as she is, it seems almost too good to be true," he added with a wink.
Randy smiled, relieved, and left for the ice rink. Ronald wasn't relieved; there was something wrong with Mary and he didn't like that. He had discovered he liked the girl and her having a boyfriend stabbing her with a knife wasn't something he would appreciate happening to a friend. A frown on his face, he leaned on the glass pane separating him from the ice and watched the game, an appreciative smile sometimes driving away his frown as Mary was in front of the opposite net.
The game was hard, for the Coyotes were first of the league, having even beaten the Checks the precedent season, and Mary wasn't sparing any effort to score. Ronald had to change his opinion on her: she wasn't tiring quickly, on the contrary! She could skate for a long time, still efficient and fast. The first games, she had probably chosen to go more often to the bench so that she could observe her adversaries.
The Renegades lost by one goal and Mary swore under her breath before congratulating the Coyotes' players. Ronald half-felt sorry for her, for she had fought hard to win, but in the other hand, he was quite happy of them having lost, for it would allow his team to be in a better position. He waited for Mary to come out of the locker rooms, still clothed the same way as usually, and he grabbed her by the wrist.
"Alright, beauty, now we need to talk."
She looked nervously upstairs, as if she was half-expecting to see someone watching her out.
"Why are you scared like that?" he asked, puzzled. "You were so confident at the beginning."
"But we didn't know each other at the beginning," she murmured, looking down.
"Listen, Shea, I'm sorry if I scared you. I agree I wasn't really nice to you at the beginning and I probably won't be next time you'll play against my team, but I never wanted to scare you, I promise."
She had a very gentle smile.
"You didn't scare me, Ronald, I swear it to you. No matter what happens, it's not your fault, I already can tell you."
"How can you know?"
Her mouth twisted a bit.
"I know, believe me. It will be my fault, it's always my fault."
She jerked away and left the ice rink. Ronald was too surprised by her last sentence to even think of holding her back.
After that, Ronald took care of staying away from her as most as possible. From time to time he would meet her eyes and she would understand. Chris didn't dare to say anything, for Ronald's mood didn't go better with his decision. He was trying to get rid of his anger on the ice and his shots were stronger than before and he was playing more roughly than ever.
Once Mary didn't come at all for the game and she was missed; her team, now used to count her in its rank, had to skate harder to make it through the game and they only managed a tie. Ronald was frowning more than ever, puzzled by this absence. Somehow it didn't seem like Mary to miss a game and, apparently, Randy himself hadn't known about her not coming, which meant she hadn't even called for telling him. Ronald wondered what her boyfriend had done to her for forcing her to miss a game.
The following week, she showed up, a bit late, walking a bit stiffly. She offered no explanation as for her absence of the previous week and hardly talked to anybody of her team. She merely took her place but, strangely, came back often to the bench for a substitute. The Renegades were playing the last game of the evening against the Black Falcons and, at the end of the game - painfully won by the Renegades - Ronald was on the point to leave when he suddenly realised that he hadn't seen Mary leaving. Frowning, he quickly looked around and finally saw a slim silhouette hiding in a corner, seated on the ground, head on the knees. He went next to her, squatted by her and put his hand on her shoulder.
"Hey, Shea, you alright?" he asked in concern.
She shook the head, refusing to look up. She crossed her arms on her head with a strangled sob and Ronald's eyes widened as the sleeves of her jersey fell down until her elbows, revealing ugly scars on the forearms. One of them was even still bleeding and Ronald wondered how she could play hockey when being wounded like that. He didn't even bother asking who did that to her, he already knew the answer and he knew too she wouldn't explain it to him. For the first time, he noticed some darker spots on her jersey and he wondered if she hadn't chosen to wear such a jersey all the time just for hiding the blood.
He put a comforting arm around her shoulders and drew her to him. She had another sob and, tired of fighting back, she hid her face against his shoulder. He put his other hand on her knee to hold her even closer and she suddenly jerked back with a cry of pain. Ronald didn't lose time and quietly undid the side buttons of her sweater pants, revealing her bare leg, bleeding from a deep wound in the shin. He looked at her and she hid her face in her hands with a soft moan.
"How could you play the last game?" he wondered aloud.
She half-shrugged, still not daring to look at him.
"Shea, look at me, I'm not going to scold you!"
"You should. Everybody else would," she answered lowly.
"Of course not! Randy and Chris and Rob and David, none of them would."
"They would think I did something wrong to deserve that."
"How can you think that?"
"Because that's what she did," said a new voice behind them.
Mary started and tried to stand up in haste, before falling down with a choked cry of pain. Ronald slowly stood up, made a sign to Mary to tell her to stay where she was and faced the newcomer.
"I guess you are her boyfriend, huh?"
"Yes, and she has been bad again, as I can see."
"No, Stan, I promise, I haven't!" exclaimed Mary, backing against the wall. "I just played my hockey game and that's all!"
"I told you to wait gently for me and where did I find you? In his arms! And you were good?"
"It's not her fault, she didn't want, I forced her," intervened Ronald.
"She probably hinted she would like it, as usual."
Ronald frowned.
"Man, you're a paranoiac," he said bluntly. "We didn't do anything wrong, we are just friends and you are scaring her to death."
"She needs to be punished all the time. Now go away, that's something between her and me."
Ronald crossed his arms on his chest and retorted:
"With your permission - or without, by the way - I think I'm going to stay."
Stan opened his hand and the blade of a knife shone in it.
"Man, am I supposed to be scared? I'm warning you now, if you're trying to use that against her, I'm not going to let you do."
"So what? You would fight for a 'friend'?"
"I would fight for a good teammate being mistreated and I would fight for a friend. I'm nicknamed 'the Beast', so from that, you should guess I'm not very subtle."
Stan wasn't obviously going to leave the ground to Ronald, with or without Mary who was still trying to stand up. Ronald hadn't grown up in the best areas of the town and he was used to fight, even against someone having a knife when he was disarmed. He had a weird smile while Stan was observing him very closely.
"Stan, no, please, don't do that," whimpered Mary, leaning heavily against the wall, the leg of her white sweater pants being now stained with red.
"She's hurt and she's standing for you, that's the proof!" raged Stan, pouncing on Ronald, knife clutched in his hand.
Ronald cocked his eyebrows at him and riposted by a single punch in the face. He heard a very satisfying crack when his fist met with Stan's nose. The man fell on his back and looked up blinking in surprise. With his foot, Ronald sent the knife far away from his grasp.
"I don't know for you, Shea, but as for me, if I ever see your ugly face around here, mister Stan, it will be my pleasure to rearrange it so well your own mother won't recognise it. Understood?"
Stan tried to straighten up, but Ronald pushed him back on the ground with his foot.
"Is that understood? You stay away from here and from her. And if you ever ever touch her again, I'll kill you this time."
"Except if I kill you first," hissed Stan.
"I'll wait for this day with impatience," replied Ronald with spite. "Go away now, you're sickening me."
Stan got up and ran away without waiting. Ronald turned to Mary who was fighting to remain on her feet.
"Hold on, beauty," he said, smiling at her.
He threw his bag on one shoulder, hers on the other and then lifted her in his arms.
"Hmm," he mused, "climbing the stairs won't be as easy as usually."
She was thunderstruck, unable to say a word. Then, finally, she found her tongue back:
"Ronald, you're crazy! He would kill you without any qualms!"
"I wouldn't advise him to try that on me, honestly, and as for you, you are moving out of the place you are living, no matter where it is."
"What?"
"Come on, you know he will come back for you."
"That's of no use. He has my phone number, he knows where I work!"
"Then you're going to change your number and I'm going to pick you up from work everyday. Don't worry, there's enough room in my house for the both of us. You'll be my roommate and maybe you'll be nice enough to cook me some nice dinners," he added with a wink.
"Ronald, you can't do that."
"Oh no? Why?"
"Because... because people will say..."
"I don't care what people will say. Those same people say for I don't know how long that I'm a beast, I really don't care for their opinion anymore."
He looked at her and sighed.
"I'm sorry," he apologised. "I'm a brute. I'll let you alone if that's what you want. I'll let you go to your home tonight if you want too. But he's furious and he will probably try to see you. And... you're in no state to face him."
"You're right," she agreed quite reluctantly. "Alright, I accept your very generous proposition, but I'm still going to win the game next week."
He looked at her again in surprise and then burst out laughing.
"Cute, beauty, very cute."
Climbing the stairs was more difficult that usually for Ronald, especially with Mary in his arms: he found it suddenly less easy to concentrate on anything else than the slim girl against him. He opened the door of his truck and put Mary on the passenger seat before throwing the bags and sticks in the trunk, slamming the doors with more force than needed, as if he was trying to get rid of some frustration.
He drove silently and Mary didn't dare to interrupt him. As he was turning in a narrow street, she finally said:
"Are you regretting your offer?"
He laughed and relaxed slightly.
"Nope, beauty. Was just thinking of your ex-boyfriend."
"Ex?" murmured Mary.
"Well, at least, now I understand why you were staying with him. He threatened you to kill you if you left him?"
"Sort of," grunted Mary.
He stopped the car in a driveway and came to open her door. He took her in his arms, walked to the door and sat her in a recliner.
"You stay here and wait for me," he grumbled.
He went to get the hockey bags in the trunk before closing the door behind him.
"Alright, show me this leg and those arms," he commanded. "Any other place you're hurt?"
"The back," she whispered.
He frowned.
"We'll finish by that."
He fetched everything needed to treat her wounds and she almost marvelled at the fact he was caring so much for her. It was obvious to him she wasn't used to have people caring for her and he grinded his teeth.
"Don't see why they call you 'the Beast'. You're gentle and caring," she said half-dreamily.
"Wait a bit, I think you'll change your mind," smiled Ronald as he applied a cloth with alcohol on it on her leg.
She winced and resisted the urge to kick him.
"Alright, got the message, now be nice."
"I will... till next week's game," replied Ronald, cleaning carefully her wound.
It took him one hour to have her properly bandaged and caring for her back had been the most challenging, for she had been hard to convince to simply turn his back to him, holding her shirt up so that he could clean the wounds. But he managed to treat everything and then lifted her again in his arms to carry her on the first floor; there, he opened a door and sat her on a bed neatly done.
"Here's your room, beauty! I hope you'll like it."
He came back with a large shirt he gave to her so that she could sleep in.
"We will get your clothes tomorrow, alright?"
"What will your wife or your girlfriend say?"
"I don't have a wife, nor a girlfriend. None could stick around me long enough; they couldn't stand the fact I seem to like hockey more than them."
Mary laughed gently.
"Oh, beauty, give me your phone."
"What?"
"Give me your phone. If our old buddy Stan tries to call you, he will have me on instead and I don't think he will like it."
Regretfully Mary gave her cell phone to Ronald whose mouth twisted a bit.
"I'm a tyrant, huh?"
"Let's say more politely that you are overprotective," retorted Mary.
"Yeah, sure. Have a good night, Shea."
"Thanks, you too, Ronald."
He closed the door behind him and went down the stairs to fumble with his hockey equipment. What was he thinking, bringing this girl in his home, and almost imprisoning her? He looked at her phone and put it on the little table. He sighed, sat down in front of the television and turned it on to watch the NHL results. One game was still on, Los Angeles Kings against the Anaheim Mighty Ducks, and he settled down to watch it. Nothing better than a hockey game to put one's mind straight.
It was still early in the morning when Ronald heard noises coming from the bathroom. He opened an eye, looked at his alarm clock, saw 6:00AM in red characters, sighed and closed back the eyes. Far too early for him. One hour later he got up and got in the shower. Going down the stairs after, his hair still wet, he found Mary seated on the couch, a mug in her hands.
"Coffee?" he asked hopefully.
"Tea, actually. But there's some fresh coffee too, if you want."
"Great. I should have asked you earlier to be my roommate."
He went in the kitchen, poured coffee in his mug, added creamer and sugar and came back.
"How was your night?"
"Far better than I did get lately," she admitted. "I guess knowing I had a bodyguard next door is sort of reassuring."
"Well, at least, you didn't call me watchdog, that's something. Good coffee, by the way."
"Thanks. Glad you enjoy it."
"Alright, let's talk serious. When do you need to be at work and when do you get out?"
"I took a day off. I called them this morning."
"You go, girl! I should do the same, so that we could care for your installation here. Are you still up for that or not?"
Mary looked at him quite strangely.
"You know it's not really... regular?"
"Listen, beauty, I'm not really normal, ok? I don't care for what other people think, I'm over that. I care only for those who are close to me. I tell you frankly, I like you; you're a good hockey player, you're witty, funny, you're not afraid of me and, contrary to most girls, you don't talk too much," he concluded with a wink.
"So?"
"So I care for you," he shrugged.
"Is the Beast becoming human?" she teased him lightly.
He had a brief laugh.
"Yeah, maybe, as long as I don't turn up a prince charming, that's alright for me."
"You don't want to be a prince charming?"
"Nah. I'm sure they don't know how to play hockey."
"A prince charming being a hockey player, that would make an interesting tale!"
"Yep, certainly. And the puck would be the one from A Midsummer night's dream?"
"Oh, what a shame, hitting such a good fellow like him!" replied Mary, bursting out laughing.
Ronald smiled, glad to hear her laugh, took the phone and called at his work.
"I'm not going to show up today," he told whomever he had on.
He listened a moment and then grinned.
"Oh yeah, you know the scenario: you meet the woman of your dreams, you don't want to leave her for a minute and you finally break up with her two months after. Yeah, of course, I met the woman of my dreams, why else would I skip work? Hockey? Come on, everybody knows I hate hockey."
He had a brief laugh and then grumbled:
"Be serious, man, everybody knows I'm a boor, who do you think could get interested in me? And then, my eyes are only on ice, most precisely on the puck, alright, you got that? Good, see you tomorrow."
He hung up with a frown on his face.
"What happened?" asked Mary.
"This stupid Steve pretended that if I wasn't showing up, I was surely with a woman. Stupid idiot."
"Well, that's sort of true."
He grinned.
"Not in that meaning, beauty. Steve's always teasing me because I'm single. Alright, you can walk?"
"I could play hockey yesterday, couldn't I?" she retorted wryly.
"Yes, you could. Come, we're going to get your things, yes? Or do you prefer to go back to your home and stay there by yourself?"
She shrugged without answering.
"I take that as a 'yes'," mumbled Ronald, closing the door behind him.
Mary had noticed Ronald usually drove silently. He had turned the radio off for her, probably by politeness, but as he wasn't saying anything, she didn't really see the point. So she leaned forward a bit and turned on the radio. Music blasted in the car, surprising Mary with Ronald's musical tastes: for the music she was hearing, coming from CDs instead of the radio itself, was mostly coming from musicals and obviously, he had heard the songs quite a while, for he was softly humming under his breath. Mary had a light smile: so the Beast had a weak spot for musicals! That was something she would have refused to believe hadn't she seen it by herself. He didn't protest when she turned on the radio; the only thing he did was to skip one track, which she had recognised anyway: it was If I can't love her, from the Beauty and the Beast Broadway show. She didn't dare ask why he had skipped the track.
Stan wasn't lurking around her apartment and she felt relief. It didn't take her long for preparing a light case with clothes and various things she thought useful. During this time Ronald was waiting for her downstairs, refusing to intrude any more in her life. When she came down the stairs, she was actually smiling.
"You can drive?" he asked briefly.
"Yes."
"Good."
They went back to the ice rink, where she took her car and drove it until Ronald's house. As soon as her bag was in the room Ronald had given her, she came back to see him.
"How can I ever thank you for all you did for me?"
"By making me coffee every morning?" he suggested, a smile dancing in his eyes.
She laughed gently.
"No, seriously, Ronald."
"Get rid of that Stan of yours?" he asked, quite hopefully.
"I don't think it depends anymore from me."
"Well, I don't know, are you still with him or is he already history?"
Before she could say anything, he added:
"Darn, I'm doing it again! I'm sorry, that's none of my business. I have nothing to say in that matter."
"You're so nice," she said fondly, bringing a surprised look on his face. "Stan is history, thanks to you."
"Anytime, beauty," he retorted mockingly. "What are you going to do now, if I may ask?"
"I don't really know. I need to change place, if I want to be left alone."
"Without willing to be all over you, you know, you can stay here as long as you want. You will always be welcome."
"Someone explain to me what I did so well that I deserved to meet you," murmured Mary.
"Can't tell you for sure," replied Ronald without missing a beat, "but I would spell it H-O-C-K-E-Y."
Mary laughed, head thrown back.
"How are going your injuries?" asked Ronald, worried to keep his mind away from how lovely she looked.
"They will heal nicely, thank you for your concern."
She sat on an armchair and slightly bent forward toward him.
"What are you planning to do today, now that my case is taken care of?"
"What do you want to do?"
"Cheater! You are supposed to tell me what you usually do, not the other way around!"
"Says who?"
"Says me!"
"Oh, so now we are playing following your rules?" asked Ronald, teasing her. "Come, I'll show you."
He went out to his car and then turned to her, frowning.
"But first we are going to take care of your phone number."
She shook the head.
"No, there's something more important that I had almost forgotten. You know how to ride a motorcycle?"
"I happen to, yes. Why?"
"My bike is still at Stan's. I want it back."
Ronald frowned a bit more and nodded.
"Alright, let's get it then."
She looked at him strangely, her hand on the door handle.
"Ronald, what would you do to Stan if he hurts me again?" she asked slowly.
"Kill him on the spot," he retorted quietly, opening his own door. "But, don't be afraid, if we meet him while getting your bike, I will control myself long enough to give him two minutes ahead."
Seeing her startled, he sighed.
"Come on, beauty, I'm joking. I won't hurt him if he doesn't hurt you. Sorry, I'm a beast, as you know, so my reactions are sort of basic. I'm hurt, I hurt back. And it's the same for my friends."
She nodded and took place next to him, giving him the directions with a very steady voice. Arrived at Stan's house, Ronald handed his keys to Mary.
"Go home, I'll follow you with the bike."
Mary didn't protest and slid at the driver's place. As soon as he arrived home, Ronald parked the motorcycle in his garage and commented with a half-smile:
"Beginning to get crowded here."
Mary looked around; Ronald's house was exactly the way she had imagined a house where no one lived to be.
"How often are you home, Ronald?" she asked.
"Not much. Time for sleeping and that's all. It shows that much?"
"Afraid so."
He shrugged.
"Nobody ever comes, it doesn't matter. I won't bother you too often, please do as if it was your home."
Finally, after Mary explained for the fifth time to Ronald that she could block a call on her cell phone, Ronald accepted to renounce to his idea of having her changing her number.
The following morning, Ronald growled again when hearing Mary getting up at 6:00AM again. He put his head under the pillow, hoping he could fall asleep again, but his stomach reminded him that since he was awake he could as well have a breakfast. He thought with chagrin that even Mary's nice dinner of the previous evening couldn't prevent his stomach to keep him awake. He thus got up with a sigh and went down the stairs to make some coffee and plug the kettle on so that Mary would have hot water for her tea. He didn't know how he could be doing this so easily, when he had lived alone for most of his life, but he didn't care. For once his house didn't seem dead, there was some life in it. He managed to disappear in his room just before she came out of the bathroom and had a smile thinking of her surprised face when she would see the kettle already plugged.
She was already leaving as he went down the stairs again, his hair wet on his forehead. She smiled at him.
"Thanks for the water and good morning!"
She closed the door behind her before he could even get a chance to answer her.
"Good morning to you," he replied to the door.
He took two granola bars in his cupboard and left in turn.
Each evening of the week, he blinked when seeing her car parked in front of his house, as if he had forgotten about her. Each evening, she had prepared the dinner, as if she was trying to thank him for his hospitality, since he had aggressively refused when she had proposed to pay a rent.
That Sunday they went together to the ice rink, taking care not to arrive exactly at the same time, so that the other players wouldn't know they were living at the same place. Ronald had a strange smile when lacing his skates, half-wondering how he would react when seeing her on the ice face to him. He saw a look of concern on Chris's face; his teammate was probably wondering what he had in store for Mary, since he had played even more roughly lately than usually. As Mary was entering the ice rink, Ronald exclaimed:
"Hi, beauty! Still scared of me?"
She looked at him briefly in disbelief and then laughed.
"Nah, just waiting to see if my pucks go faster than yours! Come show me, champion!"
She was smiling and taunting him and he wanted to take up the challenge, but he shook the head.
"Later, beauty, give me some chances to surprise you."
As he passed next to her on the ice, he whispered:
"Glad to see you smile again."
She didn't answer but he could feel her gaze following him as he was skating next to Chris.
When the game started, it was quite clear to Ronald that Mary was being on the ice as the same time as him on purpose. Sometimes he had the impression to see her eyes sparkling with mischief behind her helmet. She managed to score in the first period, to Ronald's chagrin. The Checks played harder in the second period, hassling the Renegades over and over, managing to keep the puck in the offence zone during most of the period, until the moment when Chris scored, tying up the score. From the bench Mary smiled to Ronald who retorted by a grin, sure she was keeping something in store for him.
As they were back on the ice, Ronald intercepted a pass destined to Mary and she was skating straight to him. He lifted his stick and shot the puck; she tried to avoid it, managed it only partially, the puck hitting her hard in the thigh, and being deflected straight into the Renegades' net. Ronald himself was surprised by the referee's whistle.
"You alright, beauty?" he asked to Mary, concerned he had hit her too hard.
"Yeah," she grumbled. "Don't think you're going away with this!"
He half-laughed.
"I have got other cards up my sleeve, beauty, believe me on that."
"Oh, I trust you on word!"
With the Checks leading two to one, the Renegades tried to catch up in the third period, but suddenly Ronald was everywhere on the ice, skating hard, defending his zone as if it was his own life. Even Mary, fast and lithe skater, couldn't pass through his guard and when John, one of the Checks' defensemen, scored a third goal for his team - with an assist from Ronald - the Renegades' frustration was almost tangible. Willy-nilly they had to concede the game.
After the game Ronald and Mary sat side by side to watch the last game, silent, not even speaking of their own game. The Oilers' fan was here and he didn't miss the occasion to make fun of them. Ronald had one look at him, cocked his eyebrows and turned back his gaze to the ice without any comment. Mary didn't even bother to turn the head. At the end of the game, as the Oilers had to concede against the Coyotes, Mary stood up and said:
"That's really a shame."
"What?"
"That a team as good as the Oilers thinks they need to play rough to win when they could win elegantly with a very nice style."
"Saying that to a beast like him, that's funny," mocked the Oilers' fan.
"God help me, I'm going to commit a murder," murmured Mary.
Hiding his smile Ronald took hold of her elbow and more or less dragged her outside.
"Sorry for that," he said as soon as they were out, "but God didn't seem really willing to intervene, so I thought I could try to do something."
Mary laughed lightly and waited for them to be seated in the truck to ask:
"Alright, now tell me what spell you cast on the ice to beat us like that."
"What? You don't believe in my talent of hockey player?"
"Oh, I do, but tonight, you were... you were simply amazing!"
Ronald remained silent for so long she feared she had upset him.
"Did I say something wrong?" she risked.
"No, it's not that. It's just... that's the first time I'm ever told I was amazing, and it's coming from a hockey player, so it really means something."
Mary was thunderstruck.
"Nobody ever told you that you were a good player or something like that?"
"No. They told me I was a rough player, that's pretty much all. I mean, being in this league means you are a good player, so I guess it's sort of unsaid."
Mary couldn't find anything to reply to that.
The Thursday evening, she was already at Ronald's, preparing the dinner, when her cell phone rang. She checked before that it wasn't Stan and answered the call. It was Ronald.
"Hey, beauty, there's an ice tournament at the main rink. Wondered if you were interested in watching the games."
"You bet! When?"
"Now. The first game is already begun and then there're two others."
"Alright, I'm coming right now. See you later."
She smiled and ran up the stairs to change before leaving the house.
Ronald hid a smile when seeing her coming running toward him. She was wearing leather jacket, jeans and boots, the motorcycle helmet in her hand, with the gloves in it. She sat breathless next to him and noticed immediately the hockey bag by his side.
"You play?"
He nodded. She had a quick look to the ice and exclaimed:
"Oh no! Your game was the first one and you waited for it to be over to call me! That's not fair, Ronald!"
"The tournament is on till Sunday morning, beauty, you'll have all the time in the world to see me on the ice."
"Who won?"
"We did, actually. We were lucky, I guess."
"Yeah, sure, and I'm the queen of Persia. You're on a roll currently, baby, so that's no wonder."
"I'm not the only player in the team!" he protested, half-smiling.
"Drat, I didn't notice that!" she replied without missing a beat.
Ronald laughed heartily.
"I guess your leg and back are going better, since you took the bike?"
"Actually, they are fine. My private doctor cares very well for me."
She stopped there for she would have sworn to see Ronald blushing at least slightly!
The last day of the tournament was arrived and Ronald's team - mostly composed of the Checks' players - was in the final. Mary had promised she would be here, but the game was going to begin and she still wasn't here. Worried, Ronald couldn't stop looking around to see if she was arriving. He would have sworn he had heard the noise of the motorcycle, but then she hadn't showed up...
Finally, unable to stand this uncertainty anymore, Ronald went out, his stick in hand and, struck by a sudden inspiration, took several pucks with him. It didn't take him long to see that, indeed, he had heard the noise of the motorcycle and that it was Mary's motorcycle. The reason why she still wasn't on the bleachers was called Stan... Ronald swore under his breath: he should have known that even Stan would hear about the tournament early enough to be able to come and see Mary... or at least scare her. Stan was not being gentle to Mary to say the very least and Ronald growled, even more when he saw the knife in his hand. He was too far to intervene in time: Stan could very well wound Mary deeply before he could reach him. Then he knew: he was a hockey player, with a stick and pucks, and just in front of him was a really big target. He didn't hesitate any longer and dropped all his pucks on the ground, lifted his stick and with powerful slap shots, began to methodically aim at Stan. Ronald was very good at hitting his target and this one was really bigger than he was used to.
Stan yelled in pain when he received the first puck in the stomach. The second one hit him in the hand, the pain forcing him to open his fingers, letting the knife fall on the ground. He still hadn't let go of Mary, but hope was shining in the girl's eyes, now that she knew that Ronald was here. Stan too had noticed Ronald's presence and seeing him again was enough to convince him that Mary was with Ronald now. He bent down to retrieve his knife, but Ronald was ready and a new puck flied through the airs, hitting Stan hard in the shoulder. Mary heard a very satisfying crack and suddenly, Ronald was next to her. His fingers curled up around Stan's throat while Mary jerked free.
"What did I tell you?" said Ronald slowly, his voice hardly above a whisper, and Mary could see he was trying hard to control himself.
"She is mine," retorted Stan, still wincing by the pain caused by the three pucks. "You broke my hand and maybe my shoulder, beast!"
"I hope so. I would rather have it being your head though. This is your last chance, man. You see how bad I can be? Well, believe me, I can be worse. Much worse."
"Take that, beast!" raged Stan, driving his knife deep in Ronald's shoulder.
Ronald didn't even shout in pain; he punched Stan on the ground, took the knife out from his shoulder and knelt near Stan, putting the blade on his neck.
"You move, you're dead," he warned it in a low voice.
Without caring, Stan fought back and blood ran down his throat. The pain forced him to be still and he looked at Ronald with eyes full of hatred.
"Good boy," said Ronald. "Now listen carefully, because this is the last time you will hear it. The next time, I'll strike without pity. She doesn't want to see you anymore, ever. So don't even bother to try because next time, the puck will hit you slightly beneath where the first puck hit you. You understood all this? Good, then go away and never come back! This is the last warning!"
Stan vaguely nodded and stood up, half-running away.
"Don't forget this!" Ronald called back, throwing the knife.
Stan fell hard on the ground as the knife stabbed him in the calf. Mary opened wide eyes but Ronald didn't even give him a second glance. He had a look at his white jersey stained with blood.
"Darn," he murmured. "The game is on and they can't afford to lose me... Well, too bad, I won't play tonight, then, I guess."
"Let me see that."
"No time, beauty. You alright or did he have the time to hurt you?"
"I'm fine."
She shivered.
"Ronald, thanks again. You keep saving my life."
"That's all that's left for beasts to show they're not that bad, beauty," winked Ronald. "Alright, sorry to cut short like that to that wonderful sweet moment, but there's a hockey game waiting for me."
"Go, champion, I'll watch you win," she retorted, half-smiling.
Ronald ran more than walked back to the ice, simply didn't answered the question about his bloody jersey and went on the ice as soon as he could. He briefly looked at the bleachers, saw Mary in her motorcycle outfit and then reported his attention to the ice and the puck. The incident with Stan had put him in a blind rage hardly controlled and his anger mostly went in the strength he was shooting the puck with. He was so angry and his slap shots were so powerful that he even managed to score from his defence zone, scoring the first goal of the game... and it proved to be the last one too. John smiled to his teammate when they were declared champions of the tournament, supplanting the team they had just beaten and who had been champions for five years in a row.
As Ronald arrived home, he immediately saw the motorcycle parked in front of the garage and slightly frowned. She usually parked it in the garage itself; maybe she was feeling more secure now that Stan was definitely out of her life, for Ronald doubted very much he would dare come back after the correction he had received that very day. He parked his truck, took his hockey bag and entered the house. She was obviously waiting for him, for she took the bag from his hands almost as soon as he opened the door.
"What are you doing?" he grumbled, frowning.
"I'm taking your burden away, so that you can sit and we can fix that nasty wound of yours," she replied, smiling sweetly.
"It's not as nasty as it looks like. I could play hockey."
"Yes you could, but that's no reason," she said firmly. "Now sit!"
"Shea, I'm not a kid anymore."
She sighed.
"Ronald, don't make things difficult. I didn't protest half of this when you cared for me."
"Except for the back part."
She slightly blushed.
"Please, Ronald? Be reasonable?"
"Alright, alright, beauty, I will..."
He sat on a chair and she looked at him expectedly. He sighed and removed his shirt, whose sleeve was stained with blood.
"It's deep," she said, matter-of-factly.
"I know," he growled, not looking at her, "I can feel it."
He didn't wince nor start when she applied the cloth with alcohol on his wound.
"Playing tough guy, I see," she commented, trying to cheer him up, for she sensed there was something wrong.
"I am like that. I'm a beast, remember?" he said wryly.
She stopped cleaning his wound and forced him to look at her.
"Tell me what's wrong," she commanded.
"Nothing's wrong," he replied, trying to avert his gaze.
"Don't lie to me, Ronald!"
"Stop pestering me. If I upset you, then the door is open, you can leave me to my solitude and..."
He blinked when feeling Mary's lips against his. The feeling was strong and intoxicating and it seemed to him that his heart was missing one beat or two or even stopping.
"Why did you do that?" he asked without anger, contrary to what she half-feared.
"You don't really want me to leave, do you?"
He didn't answer.
"Ronald, it's not because Stan is definitely out of the game that I'm going to leave... if you don't want me to leave."
She squatted in front of him, keeping her balance by putting her hands on his knees.
"You sort of lied to me, didn't you? You never had a girlfriend?"
"Yeah."
"How is it so?"
"Dunno. Guess I was more interested in hockey."
"Are you still or are you a bit interested in me?"
This time again he didn't answer. Mary sighed. Ronald stood up, brought her to her feet and turned her back to her.
"Ronald..." she called softly. "Do you thus want me to leave?"
He turned on his heels to look at her.
"This house... is yours for as long as you want it so. If you want to make it fully yours, you are more than welcome. I will never drive you away from it, I can at least promise that to you."
"Does that mean that..."
She never had the time to finish her sentence, for Ronald took her in his arms and kissed her. His kiss was slightly less clumsy than the first one they had shared. She circled his neck with her arms and held him close to her. As the kiss ended up, Ronald half-closed his eyes and murmured:
"I can't do that, you deserve better than me. I'm just good to be your bodyguard..."
"Ron, please never go away from me, I couldn't stand it, please..."
He took a deep breath.
"I warn you, the Wings are not my favourite team."
"Great, that'll make the evenings a bit more interesting," she replied with a huge smile.
"Are you still going to play with the Renegades?"
"Oh definitely! I have a revenge to take! How dared you to beat us last week?"
"I sort of wanted to impress you and when I found out that I indeed did, I was... afraid."
"Of your feelings?"
"That you wouldn't want... I'm not very gentle - the Beast thing, you know - and I thought that maybe it would remind you of Stan..."
"Ronald, you are not at all like Stan."
"Why are you so sure?"
"Because if he had been in your position this morning, he would have killed you. You didn't. And that makes all the difference."
Ronald nodded.
"Alright, now, are you going to let me go so I can treat that wound of yours?" she asked teasingly.
"Nope."
"Why so?"
"I feel really good with you in my arms like this. I don't intend to let you go, not so soon, at least."
"Oh yeah, I know the scenario: you meet the woman of your dreams, you don't want to leave her for a minute and you finally break up with her two months after," she supplied with a grin.
"Let's say two centuries after, if you don't mind."
"That soon?" she murmured as he was bending down to kiss her again.
"Two eternities after?" he suggested.
"Much better," she replied softly as their lips met.
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