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It’s Complicated
Ryan
The Buzz by Cassidy Tippett
For Love or Money?
SASS is at it again.
It appears Sparks and Avery Sports Specialists have bagged another bachelor.
Emerson Avery and Ryan Gunner are an item—or, rather, an item again. Sources say the one-time "We are Never Getting Back Together" couple is indeed getting back together.
According to close friends and high school yearbooks, Avery and Gunner were the darlings of their class. Sadly, after being voted "Most Likely to Live Happily Ever After," the couple split after graduation, to the dismay of high school romantics everywhere.
At the time, the real burning question was why the couple split at all. One source insists Avery doubted Gunner's ability to develop into an NHL superstar, despite being drafted in the first found by The Montreal Acadians.
After the breakup, Gunner became a member of the Los Angeles Rebels, where he played for the next six-and-a-half seasons before returning to his hometown team, Toronto Northmen.
The couple didn't waste much time rekindling their romance, leaving some to speculate if Avery is in it for love or money.
If this pair finally makes it to the alter the second time around, one can assume their vows might include a slight alteration to the traditional ones—"For Richer or Richer."
"Sources? What sources?" I growl from beside Em at Luke's kitchen island.
"Journalists don't have to name their sources." Em sighs, slamming her computer shut after reading Cassidy Tippett's latest butchering of journalistic integrity.
"That's bullshit," I say. "Those laws were made to protect journalists and people from being targeted by powerful organizations and governments, not to protect the rights of lairs and gossip mongers like Cassidy Tippett. That woman hasn't changed one bit since high school."
We've officially reached the point where everything seems to be going to hell in a handbasket. We lost our last regular season game to New York, so we're headed into the playoffs on a losing streak. Em and Holly are trying to handle media requests from doomsday-sayers convinced the team is destined to tank against Boston.
The Northmen haven't won a playoff round in over a decade. The team is famous for flaming out in the first round, so much so that over the last several years, the team has perfected the art of finding new and horrible ways to break the hearts of fans and players alike. The first few playoff losses were chalked up to inexperience. The last few have been daggers to the chest—do-or-die losses to Tampa, Washington, Columbus, and two to Boston. The worst was blowing a three-goal lead with less than ten minutes in the third period. I wasn't on the team for any of those crushing defeats, but the locker room is heavy with the memory of them.
On paper, we should be scoring up a storm and winning games like nobody's business, but the playoffs have a way of getting into your head. We need to get our shit straightened out before we hit the ice for game one, or Boston will slaughter us. I need this to be our year, especially if I want management to re-sign me to a long-term deal in the off-season.
After our latest loss, Ollie and Ozzy returned to New York, but not before making me promise to keep their sister safe; as if I wouldn't throw myself in front of a barrage of bullets to protect her.
Em's trying to be a trooper, but anyone can see the stress is starting to eat away at her.
"It's not a big deal." She pushes away from the island and smiles a little too brightly. "Let's forget about all the bullshit. Payton says the police think Randy is trying to get back into the States. He's probably halfway back to LA by now."
She places a kiss on my lips, trying to distract me.
It's working.
"Right now, you only need to focus on two things," she purrs.
"Oh?"
"Yes." She kisses me again. "Beating Boston." She moves her lips across my jaw towards my ear, her breath hot on my skin. All my blood floods south, making my dick throb and twitch with wanting, and my balls ache.
"What's the other thing?" I ask, my voice rough. Em, pulls on my earlobe with her teeth, biting hard enough to make it sting, then soothing it with her tongue and lips.
"Making me come."
Yes, ma'am!
I groan, grabbing fists full of Em's ass, and walking her back towards the table. I eye it, wondering if it's strong enough to hold us. It's one of those ultra-modern ones made of metal framing and glass.
