Page 2 of Puck Your Bunny

The words taste bitter in my mouth. "Sleeping with strangers feels like cheating. It feels like a betrayal to what we had. To Emmett and Hale."

Saying their names out loud makes the hollow in my chest ache worse. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from crying.

I force my voice level, burying the grief back down where it belongs. "Besides, Alpha Aid won't fix the real problem. I need my Alphas. I need my specific scent matches. And they're gone."

Kirsty softens. The frustration drains out of her posture. She reaches out and rests her hand on my knee. "I know they're gone, honey. But you're still here."

I pull my sweater sleeve up just enough to expose my left wrist. "I'm here because I have to be."

The silver scar of a bite mark shines under the stadium lights. It's a permanent reminder of a claim that no longer exists.

"I can't die and leave Brendan alone. He's trapped in a body failing him. I'm all he has. So I keep holding on."

Kirsty looks at the scar and sighs. "The guys would want you to live, V. Not just survive. Emmett and Hale would hate seeing you lock yourself away like this. They loved how vibrant you were."

I pull my sleeve back down to cover the bite mark. I know what she wants for me. I lack the energy to entertain the idea of moving on. There is no moving on for an Omega like me. I already found my scent matches. There is only managing the symptoms and keeping Brendan alive.

The stadium erupts into a deafening roar. The sound hits me like a tidal wave, snapping my attention away from my misery and back to the ice. The time-out is over.

Kirsty jumps up from her seat, her earlier frustration gone. "Henry's on!"

I push myself up to stand beside her, forcing my tired muscles to cooperate. Her brother, Henry, skates onto the ice as the second-line right wing. We both scream, adding our voices to the chaotic noise of the arena. It takes energy I lack, but I will always show up for Henry. He used to come over and help Hale fix the porch steps when he was just a teenager.

The play resumes with brutal intensity. The Reapers win the face-off and push into the offensive zone. The puck moves in a blur, snapping from stick to stick. Henry intercepts a sloppy pass from the opposing defense and takes off down the wing. The crowd gets louder.

He pushes up the ice, but my eyes drift to the center. Wally Nelson glides into position. He fills out the red and black uniform, an imposing wall of muscle on skates. The bold C for captain sits on his chest. His commanding presence draws my attention. He turns his helmeted head to track the play. For a fraction of a second, his dark eyes lift toward the stands.

They lock on mine through the glass.

An undeniable pull tugs deep in my gut. My breath catches in my throat. The arena noise fades into static. A rush of warmth blooms low in my stomach, chasing away the chill of the rink.

He breaks the connection to focus on the game.

Henry fakes a shot and drops a blind pass back to the center. Wally catches the puck with ease on his stick. He fires a slapshot from the top of the circle.

The puck sails past the goalie's glove and hits the back of the net.

The goal horn blares loud enough to rattle my teeth. Kirsty grabs my shoulders and jumps up and down, pulling me along with her.

"Did you see that assist? Henry set Nelson up for that!"

A genuine smile cracks through the exhaustion. The Reapers hold the lead for the remaining two minutes of the period, playing aggressive defense to run down the clock and secure their playoff spot.

The final buzzer sounds. The game ends in a win. The Reapers clinch the playoffs. The relief in the arena vibrates through the floorboards.

Fans linger in the stands, high-fiving and celebrating the playoff berth instead of rushing for the exits. The aisles clog with people taking their time. I sink back into my plastic seat.

I rub my temples to fend off the oncoming headache. "Can we wait a few minutes before we leave? Getting shoved around by a pushy crowd sounds awful right now."

Kirsty nods and drops back into her seat next to me. "No problem. Let them clear out."

We sit and wait for the arena to empty. Kirsty pulls her phone out of her pocket as the noise dies down and the rows around us thin out. Her thumbs fly across the screen before she looks up at me with a huge grin.

"Henry just texted. He wants us down in the arena lounge for the after-party."

Panic spikes in my chest. The thought of being in a crowded room full of pumped-up Alphas and strangers makes my skin crawl. The bond rejection flares in response to my anxiety, sending a burning itch radiating from my sternum.

I gather my bag and pull my scarf tighter around my neck. "I’ll order a ride home. Vinny is scheduled until eleven. Paying the overtime rate is tough right now. You go have fun though."