Page 101 of Justice for Puck Bunnies

“You could try focusing on your job,” I say, but my tone is light. “How about, for every puck you block, I owe you a fresh baked good of your choice.”

He chuckles behind me, his chest vibrating in a way that makes me smile. He pecks a kiss on the crook of my neck.

“Don’t act so innocent now,” he says. “I’d rather you swallow—”

A gentle rap comes at the door, and Trick sticks his upper body in.

“We have to go,” he informs the guys.

Vin snuggles closer, and Mason attempts to hide under the comforter.

“What are you, eight?” Trick chides. “Time to be big boys with big-boy responsibilities.”

Vin grumbles, but Mason rises and hauls Vin away with him.

There was thankfully no game scheduled last weekend. The guys missed practice on Monday and Tuesday, but the world did not end while they helped me through my heat.

They have to return to normal life now, though.

The next game is only a few days away. They need to be focused and ready.

As I rest in bed and stare at the ceiling, I think through the prior week. It’d certainly been a whirlwind.

First, Trick rejected me in the gym for both him and Mason. We were required to go to that fundraiser, though. I’d decided while getting dressed that the best revenge on Wyatt Pack’s alpha was to wear something I knew he wanted to see me in. I’d tease him with what he didn’t have.

It ended up being the perfect outfit because of course it was. Trick makes it his business to be the perfect lead alpha.

I can remember watching Trick and Mason—still in their handsome suits—teaching the kids how to skate. Vin stayed with me to keep me company.

I remember sending a picture to Jolie because it was cute. The big smiles were everything.

Brad’s never even talked about these events, let alone invited me.

The picture prompted anxious texts from my bestie that escalated into a fractious phone call.

No amount of hiding in the bathroom saved me from the third degree from Vin, waiting outside, or from one of Livvy’s little minions sniping at me while I was trying to talk sense to my bestie.

I wish I knew which player brought Cora... or was it Coral? Whatever her name is, I wish I knew which player she came with so I could blacklist them both from my presence.

Some days, I have complete control over my life. I’m focused and sure. Things go my way because I will them into being.

And then some days, like last Saturday, nothing goes right and I shoot myself in the foot so many times the limb disintegrates.

First Trick and Mason, then Jolie, and so of course I ruin the next several days for everyone.

The one silver lining of “the fight” is that Jolie is too stubborn to call me first. She’s waiting for me to apologize, which means she has no idea I’ve been, ah, out of commission.

She knows I’ll message her first, too, because we both know she’s right. I am too attached to the guys. She’s trying to look out for me.

Yes, it’s annoying she’s letting the wedding become her personality. My job as her bestie is to pull her out of that and remind her who she is.

Like she’s trying to do for me.

There are also multiple text messages from my parents, but I don’t have the energy for them.

Still burrowed into my soft sheets and inhaling the guys’ lingering scents deeply, I spend the morning pecking around on my phone, making plans for the weekend. It’s one part apology and one part Jolie maintenance.

I get us reservations to her favorite restaurant—which I can afford thanks to the daily posts I haven’t been making since Friday—then book us both for nail appointments on Saturday morning.

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