Page 69 of Justice for Puck Bunnies

Thoughts for foolish daydreams that undermine the meager joy I’ll be able to scratch out in my final reality.

Jolie’s offer grows more enticing, if only to save myself the potential for heartache.

A chronicle of Brad’s exploits the last several weeks scrolls through my mind and I catalog the tenor of his responses.

He’s close. I can feel it.

No, I can do this. I can. I’ve done it for years. What’s a few more weeks?

Tonight was a release for all of us.

But that’s all it was.

Fun.

Stop being excited for more “fun,” Izzy.

Chapter Eleven

Trick

“Yeah, Doug,” Brad says beside me and points to a guy in glasses center mass of the crowd.

Flashes pop at his outstretched hand, and the Sports Monthly reporter shouts his question. I’m not paying attention when I desperately need to be.

Instead, my thoughts drift to Izzy wrapped up in my arms last night. That spicy-sweet scent is the purest aphrodisiac. I can’t even imagine what it’s like when she’s not on the suppressants. Scent matches are uncommon, but I’d bet my left arm we have one.

She’s going to break all of our hearts when she leaves.

Vin hasn’t expressed an interest in a woman in years, but with Izzy, he’s powerless to resist.

Their scents blending got me half-hard all on its own.

Fuck, walking in on them . . .

The flimsy table shutters when Brad drops a fist onto it and it shocks me out of the daydream.

“Stiff competition going into the start of the season. First game is against the Oak Leafs,” a reporter says. “You’ve got the Airmen two games after that. Any words for your closest rivals to open the season?”

Brad grins that thousand-watt smile that charms his audience every time and looks straight into the camera.

“I think I’ll be a good sportsman and simply kiss last year’s championship ring.”

The crowd laughs while he smacks his lips on the gold-and-diamond band on his pinky finger. We’re all wearing them—me, Brad, Vin on his other side, and Adelard to Vin’s right—and the rest of us knock them on the table to egg him on.

Two questions go to Coach Adelard. Brad motions to Vin to hand him Vin’s water bottle—which both has Vin’s name on it and is also within his reach on the table in front of them. He likes to do this to Vin whenever they’re seated together. The asshole has a real power complex.

“Yeah,” Coach says to another reporter while Brad’s lifting the spout to his lips.

“You’ve got some old and some new this year. Captain, are there any secrets you’re willing to share about the lineups?”

That’s a direct question about Mason, and I’m glad he’s watching in the locker room instead of out here.

Brad tosses his head back and laughs a big, boisterous guffaw. The bottle rests on the table.

“Trying to recruit my guys already? The season hasn’t even started.”

“My job is to pressure you into telling us something newsworthy.”

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