Page 117 of Justice for Puck Bunnies

I grunt my agreement.

We were scratched for three games with a threat of more if we can’t get our shit together. We’ve already gotten through one of the three by pacing around in the box in our suits.

We’re still required to go to practice, but the Cannons will be taking the ice tonight down a cap, an AC, a winger, and our starting goalie.

What a fucking nightmare.

“So what are we doing tonight?” Mason asks.

“Watching from the box.”

“Fuck Trick. He can shove his decrees up his ass.”

“He’s trying to get us back to normal.”

“He’s scrabbling for anything that makes him feel in control.”

“He thinks you’re going to leave.”

“Are you leaving?”

His question takes me aback. I’d never even considered that kind of thing.

“Exactly,” Mason says in response to my reaction. “Don’t insult me.”

The two of us stew while we remove our gear and pack it away in our bags.

“Do you think she’s thinking about us?” he asks softly.

Thoughts grind in my mind as I chew over a reply.

“I think it’s impossible she’s not thinking about us.”

“That’s a bullshit answer.”

“What? No it’s not.”

“You know what I was asking,” he says. “I’m not asking whether she’s thinking about what happened. I’m asking if she misses us.”

With quick fingers, I unravel the French braid she taught me and tie my hair low on my neck. I should shower and change into my walk-out clothes, but I don’t have the stomach for it right now.

“I think... I think she has to miss us. You can’t fake what it was like. Do you remember lying in bed after the heat? It’s never been like that for me. She has to feel the same.”

He bobs his head in agreement. “Yeah, me too.”

Mason jumps to his feet. He cracks his neck and stomps toward the back offices, and I chase after him.

I don’t know what he’s about to do, but I need to be there to keep him from following through on it.

My alpha storms into the PT treatment room where Trick’s icing his back. Our lead alpha’s aged ten years in the last two weeks, and a lack of sleep means he’s adopted the back pain to go with it.

“We aren’t going to the game tonight,” Mason demands.

Trick lets out a long-suffering sigh. “We need to support the team.”

“Not tonight we don’t.”

“If we tuck tail and go home, the press will assume we’re hiding and we have nothing to hide from. The sooner we resume life as normal, the faster it will all blow over.”

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