Page 42 of Pucking Wild

“Uh-huh,” says Jake into his phone. “Yeah, alright, fine—okay, will you just chill? I’m on my way back, jeez.” He drops the phone from his ear and hangs up. “Such a bossy asshole,” he says under his breath. With a sigh, he glances up and looks between us. “So uhh…it’s metamour. Not metaphor. Mars is my metamour.”

“That’s cool,” says Sully. The man looks like he’s about to give himself appendicitis from how hard he’s trying not to laugh.

But Morrow has no such reserve. He just looks at Jake and shakes his head in stunned disbelief. “You must give the best fucking blowjobs of all time.”

That breaks us. Sully and I roar with laughter. I laugh so hard it gives me a headache worse than the one I already had. Pretty soon I’m groaning, a sharp pain stabbing me behind the eyes.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Jake says with a grin, taking it all in stride.

“Come on, Mr. Metamour,” says Sully, pushing himself up out of the chair and moving around the end of my bed. “You too, Coley. Let’s give Langers time to rest.”

“You can’t call me Mr. Metamour,” says Jake with a glare. “Only Mars gets to call me that.”

“I have a feeling hell will freeze over before Mars Kinnunen calls you Mr. Metamour,” Morrow says with a laugh, scooping his soccer ball up off the floor.

“It’s MarsPrice, asshole,” says Jake, punching Morrow’s shoulder hard.

“Ouch—fuck—” Morrow turns on him, ready to take his own swing. The defensemen are always more physical with each other than us forwards.

“Easy,” says Sully, stepping between them. “Save it for the ice, guys.”

“Hey, what am I supposed to do with this key,” I call to Jake’s retreating form.

“Use it,” he replies. “Until you’re back on your feet.”

“I’ll have Shelbs alert the WAGs,” Sully adds. As team captain, his wife Shelby is queen of the wives and girlfriends. I’m about to be buried under a mountain of homemade soups, cookies, and casseroles.

“But I don’t even know where Mars lives,” I call as Jake pulls open the door. “What’s the address?”

Jake glances over his shoulder. “1006 Harbor Road. Oh, and he’s got this awesome sauna thing out on the patio. Might help you loosen up that knee,” he adds with a nod to my leg.

“See you tomorrow,” Morrow calls, walking out the door first.

“Get some sleep, man,” adds Sully. “We’ll come bust you out of here first thing in the morning.”

Get some sleep. Right. Lying on my back in a fucking hospital? With a sigh, I stretch out over the side of my bed and reach for my backpack. Pulling it onto my lap, I dig in the front pocket and take out my Nintendo Switch.

It’s gonna be a long fucking night.

15

“Come on,” I say, fussing with the settings on my phone.

The sauna on Ilmari’s back patio has built-in speakers that let you connect via Bluetooth. I just have to get it to recognize my device. I’ve pressed the reset button twice. Now I’m trying to reset my phone too.

“Stupid piece of—aha—” I cut off my insult as I hear Dua Lipa’s “Levitating” pulsing from inside the sauna.

Ilmari has a great patio. Like most Florida homes, it has a cage extending from the edge of the house and out over a micro pool with a stone pool deck. The only light out here comes from inside the pool, which glows an eerie pale blue.

I’ve done the odd steam room before, but until last night I’d never tried a sauna. It’s safe to say I’m a convert. There’s something about the smell of the wooden walls as they heat. It’s the best kind of aromatherapy. I left the sauna last night feeling almost high. It was amazing. I’ve been waiting all day to do it again.

Well, the dog has been walked, I’ve got chardonnay chilling in the fridge, and I made myself an epic salad I intend to devour after this pamper session. I’ll sit on Ilmari’s super comfortable couch and watch his TV, and tonight I’m sleeping in his bedroom that looks and feels like an IKEA showroom.

This is my life now. New year, new Tess.

But first…the plunge.

“You can do it. In and out. Quick like a cat.”

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