Pucked Up (Pucked 2)

“Yup. Gene’s all over donating as long as he can get center-ice seats.”

“Easy enough.” Vi types frantically on her laptop. “Overhead is covered, apart from a few thousand dollars, so almost everything beyond that will go to Michael’s family. So far it’s looking good. I have a list of volunteers for the day of, and Sidney’s secured an arena, vendors, and security close to Michael so he won’t have to travel. We can start promoting ticket sales as soon as the teams are finalized.”

“Awesome.” I’m amazed at the number of people required to run this event and how quickly we’ve been able to pull it together. My donation to the car wash fundraiser and my involvement in the camp have gone a long way in helping build positive buzz and to making this whole thing easier. Gene has been a great about sharing information and strategies, and he’s given me some new contacts.

“I ordered the T-shirts,” she adds.

“Nice. Wait. What? Why would you do that? I haven’t made a decision about the name yet.”

“I made it for you.” She taps the space bar on the computer, pretending to do something so she doesn’t have to look at me.

“I wish you hadn’t done that. Now I’m going to have to look at hundreds of people wearing shirts with Project Sunshine in huge yellow letters.”

“They’re great shirts.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Yeah, but nothing. Sunny needs to see for herself what she let go. Besides, it’s too late to cancel the order for the shirts or the jerseys.” She gives me a big, jerky grin. “Also, Alex is going to the gym this afternoon.”

“So?”

“You still need a few more players, right? He’s been asking about it, but it’s not up to me if he can play or not. You might want to clear the air before the season starts so you don’t murder each other on the ice.”

“We’ve punched each other out; we should be even.” I’d like to punch him again, but I won’t. “I guess it might be a good idea since you’re gonna marry him and all, huh? I’m gonna have to deal with him no matter what.”

Vi sniffs and wipes away a fake tear. “Look at you, growing up, being the man. I’m so proud.”

“Suck it.”

“Alex was unreasonable. We’re mostly okay, but I’m still not happy with how he managed himself. I’ve been doing a lot of withholding. It hasn’t been easy, but I think he’s starting to get it.”

“Withholding?”

She gestures to herself. “He gets none of this right now. So I’m responsible for taking care of my own orgasms. It’s seriously fucking inconvenient for me, but I’m willing to take a stand for you, so remember that.”

I try to speak, but there aren’t any words to express the level of overshare or my gratitude.

Violet waves a hand around. “Alex hasn’t always done the right thing when it comes to Sunny, and he knows that, even if he won’t ever admit it to you. He also knows how miserable she is right now, and he’s worried. At the end of the day, he wants her to be happy.”

He can’t be all bad if Vi’s willing to spend the rest of her life with him.

“I’ll talk to him when I see him.” I don’t want to get into another discussion about calling Sunny, so I change the topic. “How’re the wedding plans coming?”

Every time I bring this up, Vi has a mini freak-out. It’s fun to watch.

Her eye twitches, and she rubs her palms on her legs. “Ugh. Seriously. We haven’t been engaged that long. And with all this bullshit going on . . . you’d think we were in a state of emergency or something. Daisy and my mom are psycho about it. They have a running list of, like, two hundred people, and that’s just for the engagement party. I keep telling Alex we need to elope. I can’t deal with a five-hundred-person wedding. We’re not even Italian. It’s craziness.

“I don’t get the whole need to be a princess for a day. I don’t want to be a princess. I want to be Violet Waters so I have a princessy, romantic name. The rest of it is total crap meant to propagate false expectations for marriage.”

“Wow. Way to sell it, Vi.”

“Screw you, Buck. You just wait. Your day will come, and when it does I’ll laugh it up like you are. Talking about this is giving me hives.”

At first I think she’s being dramatic, but then I see irregular red dots appear on her arms.

“Does Waters know you’re this stressed out?”

“Say one word and I’ll—”

“Shave my balls. I know.”

“I was gonna say armpits, but you had to go for the genitalia, didn’t you?”

“Shouldn’t you be excited and not stressed? Don’t girls love this shit.”

Violet scratches the angry red welts expanding on her arm and ignores my questions.