Page 1 of Puck Your Bunny

Chapter 1

The buzzer blares overhead. The Reapers’arena is loud and bright, packed with flashing LED screens, the smell of overpriced stale beer, and the chill of cold air rolling off the ice. Tonight is the final game of the regular season. A win guarantees the Reapers a spot in the playoffs. The tension in the building is thick enough to choke on.

The third period drags on with the score tied at two. A restless ocean of red and black jerseys surrounds us. I blink fast to keep the ice rink in my line of sight. My vision swims out of focus.

I cross my arms over my chest and dig my fingers into the sleeves of my oversized sweater. The Bond Rejection hums through my bones. It's a constant companion these days, unavoidable and exhausting. It feels like a restlesshollowed-ache right behind my sternum. It's a vast, empty space I’munable to fill. My body knows my Alphas are gone. It punishes me for the loss every waking second.

Kirsty bumps her shoulder against mine. I flinch. The contact sends a jolt of phantom pain shooting down my arm.

She pulls back. Her dark eyes scan my face, taking in the way I hunch forward to protect my core. Kirsty is a Beta. Her scent is neutral, just a faint mix of vanilla body spray and clean laundry detergent. Her warm brown skin and high cheekbones give her an intimidating edge. Her dark braids are pulled into a tight ponytail. Seeing how put-together she looks in her red Reapers jersey makes me feel even more ragged. My own messy red hair shows more gray at the roots than I care to admit.

She leans in close to be heard over the roar of the crowd. "You can't keep doing this alone, V. You need to get out more."

Two players slam into the boards down on the ice. The violent crack echoes through the arena, making my heart race. I swipe a stray piece of hair out of my face and tuck it behind my ear, shivering as the draft from the rink hits the sensitive skin of my neck.

I pitch my voice over the noise of a thousand cheering fans. "I'm out right now. In public. With hundreds of people."

Kirsty shakes her head. She reaches over and pulls one of my hands away from where my fingernails dig into my arm. Her fingers are warm against my freezing skin.

"You know what I mean. You need more respite help for Brendan. You're running yourself into the ground. Look at you." She gestures to my rigid posture."You're in pain just sitting here."

I pull my hand back and shove it deep into my sweater pocket to keep it out of her reach. The hollow in my chest pulses, a dull throb reminding me just how broken I am. I force myself to sit up a little straighter. I try to mimic the posture of a healthy, functioning person holding it together.

"It's hard enough getting twenty-four hour coverage for the week of my Heat. I can't ask for more than that. The agency is always short on nurses."

Kirsty focuses on me. "You aren't asking for too much. You're asking for the bare minimum to survive. You need a break. A real break, where you aren't just waiting for the other shoe to drop or checking your phone every five minutes to make sure Vinny hasn't quit. While your body suffers without your Alphas."

I swallow hard. The cold air in the arena feels suffocating. I know she means well. She held my hand in waiting rooms and brought me groceries when I struggled to get out of the house. But she misses the logistics of my life. She misses what it takes to keep my household functioning day in and day out.

"I'm fine, Kirsty. I mean it. Today is just a bad day. Spring showers are moving in."

It's a weak excuse. We both know it. The bond rejection ignores the weather. It only cares that I'm an Omega without her bonded pack.

Kirsty gives me a flat look. "Don't give me that weather crap. I watched you almost pass out in the parking lot. You're pushing yourself too hard. Brendan is safe at home. You need to let someone else carry the weight for a few days."

I look away from her. The refs blow a whistle and signal a time-out on the ice. The tension in the arena shifts to a low murmur.

I can't explain it to her. I can't explain the terror gripping me every single time I leave the house. The lingering fear that Brendan will have an episode while I'm gone. The terror that his dormant Alpha instincts will flare up and confuse him. I'm the only thing he recognizes anymore. I'm the only person he has left in a world that no longer makes sense to his damaged brain. I have to stay alive, no matter how much it hurts my body.

The crowd noise dips into a rumbling hum as the timeout drags on. The ice crew skates out with their shovels, scraping up the loose snow around the goalie nets. I lean my forearms on my knees and stare at the scuffed concrete floor beneath my boots.

The stadium music plays over my words. "It's not just about needing a break. My Heats have been brutal since the accident. You know that. I lock myself in the backyard shed for a week to avoid triggering Brendan. If his instincts wake up while I'm like that, and his brain fails to process it, he could hurt himself. Or someone else."

I shudder at the thought. The shed has plenty of floor space, but it's cold and uncomfortable. It smells like old cedar and desperation. I miss nesting. Spending a Heat out there means riding out the raging fever and joint pain alone on a bare mattress. It's the only way to keep Brendan safe.

His traumatic brain injury left him with the mental capacity of a toddler. If the scent of my Heat hits him, his body will react. His mind doesn’t understand what’s happening. It scares him. I refuse to put him through that terrifying confusion again. Once was enough for a lifetime.

I keep my eyes on my boots. "Leaving him without someone I trust in the house is a risk I can't take. If something happens to me while I'm locked out there, someone has to be there for him."

Kirsty crosses her arms. The bright arena lights reflect off her glossy lips as she frowns. "Then you need to look into the Alpha Aid program. Or at least ask your doctor for medical sedation during your Heats. You don't have to suffer in a shed like an animal, Vayda. There are options."

I flinch. The suggestion makes my stomach turn. Alpha Aid is a government-funded program paying unbonded Alphas to help Omegas through their Heats. It means inviting strangers into my space and letting them touch me.

I shake my head. "No sedation. And zero government-assigned Alphas."

Kirsty throws her hands up in frustration. "Why? Because you think you deserve to be in pain? Vayda, Bond Rejection tends to kill Omegas within a year. You’ve fought it for three. You're a total anomaly. The doctors are amazed your heart is still beating."

She's right, and I hate it. Most Omegas waste away once their pack is gone. The grief and the broken bond shut their organs down one by one. I’ve only survived because Brendan survived the crash. Even with his severe brain damage, with the man he used to be gone forever, our bond is still there. It's a frayed, rotting thread connecting my soul to his. Just his presence is enough to keep my lungs pulling in air.