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Summary
Rozanov had already been sour about the way Shane had blown past him and snapped a clean one past the goalie during their 4-on-4 scrimmage. So on the next shift, when Shane cut through the neutral zone with the puck, Rozanov had sidled beside him and lunged, driving his shoulder into Shane’s chest and riding him straight into the fucking wall.
The knockback from the helmet had definitely hurt, but Shane had simply banged the wall with a gloved fist and slid right back into the game. His team had won regardless, when he had bitterly sniped the final goal, and when Rozanov and the rest were doing their punishment laps around the rink, he skated past Shane's team, looking so pissed it was like steam was coming out of his ears.
Shane rubs his jaw again. If the pain had come from his slam into the wall, he would have felt the stinging the entire time. But, it doesn’t feel like that. It sure as hell feels like someone just punched him in the face.
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Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov are soulmates, playing for the same university and both trying to go pro before their freshman year of college. But, every time you think about touching your soulmate, the other person feels it on their skin.