Page 27 of Puck Your Bunny

"No."

The single word drops into the quiet living room like a weight. His voice is raspy and strained from years of disuse, but the syllable is clear.

I stare at him, confused. "No?"

Brendan squeezes my thumb with everything he has, his jaw working as his facial muscles twitch to form the words.

"Vay." He forces the sound out, his chest heaving with the exertion. Swallowing hard, his blue eyes never leave mine. "Happy."

Vay happy.

He hates seeing me upset. Even with his damaged brain, he just wants to soothe his distressed mate. Oblivious to what I did, he just wants me to stop crying.

I hold back the tears, biting the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper. Crying will only agitate him, and I refuseto ruin this incredible moment of clarity. Leaning forward, I press a lingering kiss to his warm forehead.

Whispering against his warm skin, I squeeze his uncurled fingers. "I'm happy, Bren. I'm happy. Don’t worry."

Chapter 10

The hot water beats down on my shoulders. Thick steam fills the massive glass shower enclosure while three days of sweat, cheap silicone lube, and grime circle the stainless steel drain at my feet.

The high-end body wash smells like cedar and mint. Scrubbing my skin turns it red. Washing away the lingering scent of sweet lavender and honeysuckle is a frustrating chore. Aching from the marathon session on that bare mattress, my muscles seize up with the adrenaline gone.

I shut the water off and grab a thick white towel from the heated rack to dry off. I pull on loose gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

Walking barefoot out of my bathroom, I head down the wide hallway of our shared penthouse. The soles of my feet stick tothe expensive dark hardwood. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows line the entire west wall, putting the glittering city skyline on full display.

The view costs a fortune, and the leather furniture arranged in the center of the room costs even more. Right now, the pristine luxury of our apartment makes my skin crawl. The cold marble and stainless steel appliances look like a showroom instead of a real home.

The smooth wood walls, the cool draft coming through the cracks, and the dusty floorboards sound far better. More than anything, my chest aches for the Omega we left behind in that fading yellow house.

I walk into the kitchen. Simon sits on the edge of the marble island, wearing dark joggers and a white t-shirt. His wet copper hair sticks up in every direction. He bounces a neon green tennis ball off the floor. The rubber hits the hardwood with an annoying thud.

Catch, drop, catch.

His knee bounces in a blur of nervous energy. He stays in constant motion.

Wally sits at the dining table in basketball shorts and a tight gray t-shirt. He holds a black pen between his thick fingers, staring at the empty yellow page of a legal notepad. His dark hair remains damp from his shower. The silence in the sprawling penthouse amplifies the distance between us and Vayda.

I lean my hip against the edge of the granite counter. "The usual chest-beating routine guarantees a disaster. We try to claim her territory and she runs for good."

Simon catches the tennis ball and holds it tight in his fist, stilling his bouncing knee. His green eyes are bloodshot from sleep deprivation. "She protects that guy with her life. Threatening him is a massive mistake."

Wally shifts his gaze from the notepad to my face and sets the pen down on the table. "We skip the ultimatums. We accept the setup and take them both."

I cross my arms over my chest. "Works for me. He's her mate, and he needs around-the-clock care. His brain injury removes any threat of a turf war. I just want to make sure they both stay safe."

Simon hops off the marble island, tossing the tennis ball onto the counter to walk into the living room. "If we form a pack with her, we form a pack with him, too."

"We just need to slide into her routine without triggering her panic." I look back at the dining table. "Show her we offer backup to carry the weight."

Simon rubs the back of his neck with a grim expression. "Our schedule is a total nightmare right now. Morning skates, video sessions, the away trip to Heathstead on Tuesday. The playoffs start in three weeks. Camping out at her house every hour of the day is impossible."

The reality of our careers hits like a crosscheck to the ribs. Hockey dictated my diet, sleep schedule, and every relationship I attempted since I learned to walk. Thinking about lacing up my skates and getting on a plane while Vayda struggles alone makes my stomach twist.

Simon looks between me and Wally. "I'll retire tomorrow. I'll tear up my contract right now to stay here and take care of them."

The thought brings a wave of relief. Walking away from the ice to focus on our new mate feels like the most natural decision.