Sincerely The Puck Bunny Novels & Stories

SAGE MONTERO. @puckmedaddy: ‘Gah, I understand why he’s the captain; he looks like he handles a puck the same way he does a woman. Rough.’ Yeah, until he chokes you to death. @rookslapmepls: ‘I volunteer. I volunteer. I volunteer as tribute…sorry I meant puck.’ If desperate had a label, it’d be you, sweetheart. @rookmehard: ‘I know they call him the Angel cause he’s a devil in the sheets. Argue with the wall, everyone.’

Coach barked after I missed a clean pass. I didn’t answer. “Eyes up!” he snapped. I skated back into position, jaw tight, chest burning with irritation that had nowhere to go. Lyon skated up beside me during a water break, nudging my shoulder with his glove. “You good, man?” “Fine.” “That’s your third ‘fine’ today.” I shot him a look. “Drop it.” He raised both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Just don’t bite my head off.”

Most of them have a word in common. "Tits... tits... tits... breasts, huh," I lift my eyebrows in surprise, this one particular hockey fan is very respectful, "He said, 'This broad has the best breasts I have seen. Good job, Kent' well, at least he didn't say tits. I'm going to like that one." Bram chuckles and I continue reading out loud. 'Who is she?' 'Puckslut' 'Are you okay to play again? Please say yes.' 'I missed you, I love you. She's not good enough for you.'

Looked at the thirty-two people and my father and the rink that smelled like cold and ambition and the six weeks of my life that had rearranged themselves around this place and these people without asking my permission. I held the puck up. "Yes," I said. The rink lost its mind completely. The victory howl from Torres happened again, louder this time. The freshman defensemen high-fived each other like they'd personally scored. Finn emerged from behind his hand long enough to look up at me with a warm, genuine smile that had nothing complicated in it at all, and I smiled back the same way. Dad blew his whistle. Hard. Twice. "Alright," he said, in his best this-is-a-professional-environment voi

A puck. I sit up slowly. Turn it over in my hands. It's regulation size and weight, no different from the hundreds of pucks I've handled in my life, except for the fact that it is clearly old worn at the edges in a way that speaks to years of handling, the rubber surface smooth in places from contact, the NAHL stamp on the face so faded it's barely legible anymore. Not mine.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve got it, Mom. I promise. Love you.” ​“Love you more, silly,” she muttered, finally standing up to disappear into the crowd. The final buzzer sounded. 4-2. Chatham won. The arena exploded with noise. Players celebrated their win. Then Gavin stepped onto the ice, clapping shoulders with that rare, proud half-smile, the one that made him look human for a split second. For one stupid, reckless moment, our eyes locked across the rink. I was just a face in the crowd, but he found me.

It was from horny bunny 225. “Wow! Horny bunny is our highest gifter right now. Thank you, now I’m all wet and ready for you,” I can’t believe he sent me six thousand dollars. My heart raced in excitement. The cash would last me for a little while. “Now, we get to play truth or dare but you only get one chance, so do it wisely,” I advised. “Now let’s start with the truth. Ask me something,” I sat still, pinning his chat comment as I waited for him to type what he had to say.

, I chuckled nervously. Please open up and swallow me now, I begged the earth. "Do you know why you're here, Miss Carmichael?" Mr. Drebeille finally spoke. I shook my head rapidly in response, "Did I tell you, you have such lovely skin today Mr. Drebeille" "New soap?" "Yes", the burly man indulged me as he leaned back into his chair, the old stud creaking in the process. "It's called the soap of retaining my job".

“Thanks. Really needed that today.” “I’m serious. You’ve got a face like someone stole your dick.” He kicked his feet up onto my coffee table, which I hated, and he knew I hated, which was exactly why he did it every single time. “Also I watched the fight like six times already. Cane’s got a mean right hook for a guy who skates like he’s scared of the puck.” “He got lucky.” “He got you good is what he got.” Dex grinned, entirely too pleased with himself. “And then apparently you went full soap opera hero and claimed some mystery girl in front of half the internet. People are losing their minds trying to figure out who she is.”

The goalie crouched, but it was too late. The crack of the puck hitting the net was sharp and final. The arena erupted. Falcons 5, Eagles 3. When the buzzer sounded a minute later, it was over. The Falcons swarmed their captain, lifting him onto their shoulders. The crowd was chanting, shaking the old rafters. “Collins! Collins! Collins!” Ray Collins. My father’s favorite. The golden boy. As if he felt me staring, he turned his head where he sat on his teammates’ shoulders. His gaze, dark and intense, found mine across the crowded bleachers. It held for one second. Two.