Pucked Off (Pucked 5)

“I lined up a massage for you,” he says.

“What?” For a second I imagine that he flew Poppy out to treat me. Then I realize how fucking stupid that is. But it would be awesome if she could come work her magic on me before I hit the ice.

“I need you on point tonight, Romero. Butterson’s off his game.”

“He’s got a baby dropping soon; he’s distracted.”

“You don’t need to tell me. I know what the issue is. But I need you to be focused on the game, so I set up an appointment with one of the therapists here at the arena. It’s not negotiable.”

I can’t argue. He has a point. As much as Miller would like to be able to focus on the game, it’s got to be tough. Beyond that, maybe it’s not a bad idea to see whether my reaction to Poppy is isolated. Maybe it’s massages in general that actually work for me, not Poppy.

“Fine. When and where?”

“Now. Follow me.”

The massage therapist Smart hooks me up with is a woman in her thirties whose shoulders are nearly as broad as mine.

Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but she’s substantial.

It takes all of thirty seconds for me to come to the conclusion that my reaction to Poppy is completely unique. I try to relax; I really do. But these hands are so different. Having this woman touch me for an hour is a horrible kind of torture.

After the torture-massage, I head back to my room. I’m in a shitty mood, and I’m not excited to hang out with Rookie—not because I don’t like him, but because now that I’ve partied with him, he has the same expectations of me that everyone else does. And that’s my fault.

When I get there, I find him hanging out with a chick. She looks like she’s about ready to take her clothes off, and I’m not interested in dealing with that kind of bullshit. Especially in the middle of the afternoon.

“I just need to grab a couple of things, and I’ll leave you two to it.” I point across the room to my bag.

I don’t like that there’s some bunny I can’t keep an eye on in my room with my stuff, but I grab the most important things: identification, wallet, phone, and iPad. I stuff them in my duffle, which still has my workout gear in it, and throw it over my shoulder.

“Text me when you’re good,” I call as I close the door and walk down the hall, heading for one place I know no bunnies will be.

I send Randy a text to make sure he’s in his room. I get a reply as I knock on his door. It swings open a few seconds later.

He eyes the duffle as I drop it on the chair. “You get kicked out of your own room?”

“Rookie found himself a bunny.”

“The game isn’t even until tonight. Where the hell’d he find her?”

“Who knows? Maybe she’s a friend and not just a bunny. I didn’t stop to ask. I figured I’d let him expend some energy. He’s still got some time before we have to suit up for the game.”

“That’s a bad idea before a game.”

“He’ll have to figure that out on his own, ’cause I’m not having that conversation.”

“And if she’s there when you go back?”

“She’ll have to bail, or I’ll help her find the door.”

Randy cocks a brow. “You all right, man?”

“Yeah. Why?” I drop down on the couch and look around the room. “Where’s Miller?”

“On the balcony. He’s talking to Sunny.”

“Is everything okay there?”

“I don’t know. She’s having some cramps. She thinks it’s some kind of hiccups or something, and Miller wants her to call the midwife.”

I shake my head. “You know, a year ago if you’d told me he’d be talking babies, I woulda laughed.”

“A lot can change in a short span of time.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” I think about how things went down with Tash. How at the end of last summer it went from nothing to sex to me wanting just her to her not wanting the same. One minute we were whatever we were, and then we weren’t anything. “When you and Lily started hooking up, it was just for the fucking, right?”

Randy sits at the other end of the couch and runs his palm over his beard. “We were just—”

“—having fun. You used to say that a lot.”

Randy nods. “Yeah. I was a fucking idiot.”

“So it wasn’t just about the fun?”

“I mean, yeah, at first that was the whole point, but then things started to change.”

“Change how?”

“I wanted more.”

“I’m glad that worked out for you.” I mean it, though it might sound like I don’t.

Randy regards me for a few seconds, maybe judging my sincerity. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you keep letting Tash screw you over?”