Page 65 of Secret Pucking Unicorn

“Yes, there’s a problem here. She won’t let me see Miranda.”

“Doreen?” Mother asks.

“Nora, Miranda has had a very trying day. She’s exhausted, and she’s gone to bed. Please tell your son”—Doreen looks at me like I’m vermin—“to please leave us alone.”

“Declan?” Miranda walks into the room behind her mother. She is in pajamas and looks sleep rumpled and adorable.

“Miranda. Darling. We need to talk. Please.” I try to enter the suite. But Doreen blocks my way. I’m ready to push past her, but my father grabs my arm.

“Steady on, son,” he says.

Miranda pushes her hair out of her eyes and shakes her head. “We have nothing to talk about, Declan. Leave me alone.” She turns and goes back to her room, closing the door and breaking my heart.

“You heard her. Declan.” Doreen gives me a steely eyed gaze. “I’m sure you’re disappointed your affections aren’t returned. But please respect my daughter’s wishes. If you continue to harass her?—”

“Harass her?” my mother exclaims in disbelief. “Trying to get an explanation and talk to his girlfriend is not harassment.”

“Nora, you’ve been my best friend since we were girls, and I love you like a sister. I’ve known Declan his whole life and I know he is a good man. But I must respect Miranda’s feelings even if I don’t agree with her. I’m sorry.” She turns to me. “Declan, I don’t want to have to call the authorities on you, but I will if it’s what’s necessary to protect my daughter. Please don’t make this difficult. Good night.”

“Protect her? From me? Don’t be ridiculous,” I shout as she closes the door. The sound of the dead bolt engaging is the last straw. I can’t believe she doesn’t want to see me. How has everything perfect gone horribly wrong in a day? I spin away from the door and punch the wall in frustration. I hear the bones crack before the pain registers. “Fuck,” I moan as I cradle my hand to my chest. I didn’t even put a dent in the wall, but I’ve broken my hand. This is the worst day of my life.

* * *

The team has a top-notch orthopedic surgeon on staff who x-rays my hand quickly and confirms the break. They call it a “boxer’s fracture,” but Coach calls it a “fucking dumbass fracture.” He’s right. I should have controlled my emotions better. I’m not a violent man, but I was seeing red.

I’m on the bench watching practice. With my right hand in a splint for the next two to three weeks, there’s no practicing with the team and no playing in the PHL All-Star game in Florida. I am a dumbass. It was such an honor to be picked, and I let my temper and frustration get the best of me and ruin it all. If my team won there would be prize money, significant prize money, that would make my ability to get a farm much easier. And I threw it all away because I lost control. I let my feelings for Miranda distract me from hockey. I want her to be my future, but I can’t lose sight of everything else because she’s here.

Nate Crosby is in my spot and he’s doing well but he’s a different type of player than I am. He’s a wombat shifter and smaller than I am. Everyone is smaller than I am, but he is one of the smaller guys on the team. Still a big guy, he’s over six feet tall, but small for a team loaded with wolf, bear, and other large animal shifters. He’s a faster, more agile skater than I am which throws the timing of passes off. His stick isn’t as long as mine and he can’t snag pucks sliding past on the ice to rescue the play like I’d be able to. Carter is getting frustrated Crosby isn’t where he expects him to be. Carter has a hard time adapting sometimes when he’s stressed. They’ll work it out.

Coach blows the whistle for lines to change. Carter and Crosby skate over to get water. I put their bottles on the board to make them easier to grab. At least I can do something useful.

“We gotta work on our timing,” Crosby says. He’s serious where Carter is more of a goof.

Carter growls. “Ya think?”

“You’ll get it,” I say, trying to de-escalate the situation.

“I know we’ll get it. Sucks we have to.” With that scathing remark, Carter skates away. I know I screwed our team by losing my temper. They have every right to be pissed at me.

“Hope you heal quickly, Mac, this isn’t how I wanted to move up to the first line,” Crosby says as he leans over the board to put his water bottle back on the shelf. He gives the board a stick tap in farewell and goes toward the far goal to practice tip in shots with our second goalie.

“Are you happy now? You broke his heart and hand,” Sophie shouts from up in the stands.

What the hell? I turn around to see what she’s going on about and see Miranda and Doreen climbing the steps to take them to where my family and Daphne are sitting.

My breath catches when I see Miranda. She’s beautiful, but she looks exhausted and fragile. A shell of the lovely, vibrant woman from last week. Hell, from the day before yesterday. Is she ill? Her normally cream and roses complexion in her cheeks looks sallow, her eyes are flat like gravel from the barn’s driveway, not serene. It looks like she’s lost five pounds she had no business losing in a day. While part of me wants her to be heartbroken like I am, I don’t ever want my Daisy to suffer. I want her to be happy and healthy. I love her, even if she doesn’t love me.

“What?” Miranda asks, turning to scan the ice. I’m easy to pick out since I’m the tallest. When she doesn’t see me, she looks at the bench and sees me sitting there. I wave my splinted hand and curse myself when I see her go pale and sway slightly as if she’s going to faint, but she doesn’t. She edges around her mother and comes down to the spot behind the bench where there’s a small gap in the protective glass.

Her eyes are shiny with tears as she reaches out for my hand.

“Declan.” She runs her fingers over my splint with the hand not holding mine. “What happened?”

“You happened, Miranda,” Sophie spits. “You always fucking happen.”

Miranda’s eyes widen, and a flush replaces the sallowness as she releases my hand and turns to face Sophie. “Excuse me?”

She doesn’t say it politely. More in a “What the fuck did you say to me?” tone I never expected to hear come from my sweet Miranda.

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