Page 102 of Trade Deadline

“What?” I shrug. “I was a Star Wars prequel kid, not Star Trek. Plus, I only cared about hockey and making sure I beat my brother to calling shotgun in the car.”

“That’s true.” Elliot nods in agreement. “He used to win every time as well.”

“Probably because you were too distracted raiding the fridge for snacks.”

“Also a valid point.” Elliot lifts a shoulder in a shrug.

We’re en route to the dog shelter to pick our new team mascot—the best thing about winning the escape room challenge aside from bragging rights—and I’m so fucking excited. I’ve wanted a dog my entire life, and the day I retire from hockey, I’m going to adopt as many dogs as Alex will let me.

Wow, look at me, planning the future.

“Are we allowed to name the dog?” Mitch asks Colleen from the back of the minivan.

Colleen turns in her seat. “If the dog doesn’t already have a name or is young enough that we can change their name without them getting confused, then I’ll take name suggestions. But I can’t make any promises since they’re going to be put on a poll on social media pages for fans to choose...”

Elliot huffs. “But I wanted Bruce.”

Colleen scrunches up her nose. “I don’t think it’ll be Bruce, sweetie.”

Elliot’s head hits the headrest of his seat dramatically, and when we pull up in front of Paw-Loved Adoption Center, he stomps inside, mumbling how he’ll create multiple accounts to vote for Bruce in the poll.

“Hey!” A guy with a bright smile steps around the counter to shake our hands. “Welcome to Paw-loved Adoption Center. I’m Brent, and I’ll be helping you find your furry companion today.”

We exchange handshakes, then he leads us through into the kennel area. The sound of dogs crying, barking, and howling makes my heart heavy because who the fuck abandons their dogs?

But this place is really nice. The kennels are clean with plenty of room for the dogs to move around, and there’s a dog flap at the far end for them to go outside whenever they need.

I really hope they all find their forever home. I wish I could take them all myself.

I lean into one of the kennels and stroke the soft fur of a gorgeous husky puppy. His two different-colored eyes gaze up at me happily as I scratch behind his ears.

“You see a lot of puppies here now because, after Christmas, most people realize they don’t have the means to take care of a dog. Also January is the month when most couples separate, and usually that leads to putting their dog up for adoption.” Brent says.

Well, fuck. “That must be so hard on them.” I frown.

He nods solemnly. “It is. There’s a lot of confusion, especially when they’ve been in the same home for quite some time, but we have a great team here that ensures the dogs don’t feel abandoned. If a particular dog is finding it harder than normal, we’ll take them home with us.”

“I’m glad they have some good people in their corner.” I smile.

The rest of the guys are petting various dogs; Ethan’s crouching in front of a Great Dane, Zach’s giving smooches to the husky I spotted earlier, and I stop in front of a golden retriever.

The name on the whiteboard says “Boomer, fourteen weeks old,” and I can’t help but grin. He’s jumping up at the gate, his tail wagging like crazy.

“Hey there, little guy.” I crouch down, putting my hand through so he can sniff it. He licks it, then starts to chew excitedly on my fingers.

“Would you like to meet Boomer properly?” Brent asks.

“Hell yeah.” I stand up so Brent can open the gate, and I step inside the kennel, kneeling down. Boomer climbs into my lap instantly, his paws resting on my shoulders as he licks my neck and under my chin. My fingers sink into his super-soft golden fur, and I stroke his body as his tail wags excitedly.

“You are so freakin’ cute,” I say in that baby voice everyone makes when talking to a dog.

His tiny teeth feel like needles as he nibbles my chin, and I burst out laughing. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I take several selfies before filming Boomer trying to eat my chin and tugging on my t-shirt collar with his tiny teeth.

“Alex, if I survive the puppy onslaught, I’ve decided we’re going to have a house full of dogs when I retire.” I say to the camera, and when I blow Alex a kiss, Boomer shoves his wet nose into my mouth.

“Omigod!” I hear my brother shriek, then erupt into a fit of giggles.

Picking Boomer up in my arms, I stand up and carry him out of his kennel to find Elliot two kennels down. He’s on the floor, currently being tongue-attacked by five Dalmatian puppies, climbing all over his chest and licking his face. Mitch laughs, filming the entire thing on his phone as he stands to the side.

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