Page 41 of For Pucking Real (The Seattle Vipers #4)
TWENTY-NINE
TOBIAS
Now
I t's the next morning and the three of us don't know it yet, but our kiss has gone viral.
The news is out about us. The sounds of phones going off wakes us all with a start.
The synchronicity would almost be comical if it didn't feel ominous.
It's chaos. Not the usual kind, no baby cries, no Glitzy knocking shit off counters for attention.
No. This is different. It's the kind of chaos that starts with vibrating phones and bleeps and dings and rings all at once, in rapid-fire succession, like a digital panic attack that's infiltrated our peaceful bubble of sleep.
Beside me, Devan bolts upright, his broad shoulders tensing as he fumbles for his device.
On my other side, Lia groans and fumbles around the blankets, her small frame shifting against mine.
We're all moving at once, tangled in limbs and sheets, reaching for our phones like we're disarming a bomb about to detonate our carefully constructed lives.
"Shit," we all say in unison, the word hanging in the air between us like a shared premonition.
I blink at the screen, the harsh light burning my still-sleepy eyes. Twenty-seven unread messages. Three missed calls. Cliff's name flashes at the top, my agent's urgency practically radiating through the glass screen. My stomach drops to somewhere around my knees.
Devan's already reading aloud, his voice rough with sleep and tension. "Tor: You and Groves. Arena. Now. Coach wants to see you both." The captain's tone translates even through text, serious, no-nonsense, trouble brewing.
Lia gasps, her blue eyes widening behind her glasses she's just shoved onto her face. "Ridley: Why didn't you tell me? We need to talk. Now." Her brother's protective instincts clearly on full display.
I swipe open Cliff's message with a sinking feeling in my gut, the kind that comes from years of waiting for the other shoe to drop, for happiness to be snatched away.
I told you to keep your head down. I don't know if I can clean this up. Call me ASAP.
I scrub a hand over my face, feeling the stubble I didn't bother to shave yesterday. "Cliff's already panicking."
"I think everyone is," Devan mutters, already climbing out of bed, his muscular frame silhouetted against the morning light filtering through Lia's curtains.
It's a blur after that. We move fast, brushing teeth, dressing with military speed, grabbing half-cold coffee while Lia scoops up Chloe who, thankfully, seems content this morning.
Glitzy weaves around our feet like she knows something's up and isn't pleased about it, her white tail flicking with disapproval as we scramble.
We get out the door like we're trying to outrun the internet, but we can't. Not this time. The weight of exposure settles over us like a physical thing as we pile into Devan's SUV. I check my phone again, more messages, more alerts, more evidence that our private world has become public fodder.
The moment we step into the arena, the air feels heavy.
Not with anticipation, like before a game, but with dread.
The security guard gives us a knowing look that makes my skin crawl.
We're ushered straight to the second-floor conference room, the one with the long table and the coldest air-conditioning in the building, the room reserved for serious business and uncomfortable conversations.
Waiting for us are Coach Lennox, his face already set in stern lines, Marla from PR looking professionally concerned, Tor with his captain's face on, and Ridley, who looks like he's already been pacing with a waiting scowl just for us.
Lia's told to wait outside. She nods and gives Devan a quick squeeze to the arm before slipping out, Chloe balanced on her hip. The look she gives us both is part apology, part determination.
The door shuts behind her with a finality that makes my heart skip. Coach Lennox wastes no time, standing at the head of the table like he's about to deliver a particularly brutal pre-game speech.
"What the hell were you two thinking?" His voice isn't raised, which somehow makes it worse. Disappointment cuts deeper than anger.
Devan stiffens beside me, his shoulder brushing mine in silent solidarity, but I keep my eyes on the coach. Lennox's face is purpling by the second, the vein in his forehead becoming more prominent.
"I told you to keep your heads down, not form a goddamn love triangle with a teammate's sister! Do you know what kind of circus this is going to be? The media will be all over this like vultures on roadkill!" His hands slam down on the table, making the water glasses jump.
I open my mouth, feeling the familiar defensive anger rising, the same one that got me in trouble in Las Vegas, but Marla cuts in smoothly, her PR-polished voice a stark contrast to Lennox's growl.
"What we need is clarity. Is this a serious relationship? Because when I asked you two months ago if there was anything the PR team needed to prepare for, you said no. And now this." She slides her tablet across the table, showing us the viral photo of us last night.
Devan speaks before I can, his voice steady despite everything. "It is serious. I love them. Both of them." His hand finds mine under the table, squeezing once, hard.
The words hit me between the solar plexus. They're surprising, they're real, spoken out loud in a room full of people. Not whispered in the dark between sheets or implied in touches and glances. Official. Declared.
Marla exhales through her nose, her professional mask slipping just enough to show genuine surprise. "So it's a committed triad."
"Yes," I say, voice firm despite the nerves twisting in my gut. "It's not a fling. It's not an experiment. It's three people caring and loving each other. It's real." The words come out stronger than I feel, carrying the weight of everything I've lost before, everything I stand to lose now.
Coach Lennox looks like he's going to combust, running a hand over his thinning hair. "Do you have any idea how much trouble this puts the franchise in? The GM is already breathing down my neck. The board members are calling. The sponsors are nervous."
Marla adds, her voice clipped, "We have Lia's launch in three weeks. This kind of attention could damage her brand, the team's reputation?—"
Ridley growls at that, finally breaking his silence. "She worked her ass off to be here. This isn't some handout or publicity stunt. Don't spin this like its favoritism or scandal. She's earned her place." His protective instinct for his sister is palpable, filling the room with tension.
Tor finally speaks, his captain's voice carrying the weight of authority that makes everyone listen.
"Look, we've been through worse as a team.
We're winning. We're focused. If anything, this proves how well they work together on and off the ice.
And yeah, okay, it's a little unconventional, but so what?
They're adults. They're happy. We've seen it.
" He looks between Devan and me, his eyes steady and supportive.
Devan blinks at him, surprise evident in his expression. "You. . .knew?"
Tor smirks, some of his usual humor returning. "Christmas was a dead giveaway. You three were already a unit. The way you moved around each other, the inside jokes, how you kept gravitating together. We just didn't say anything because it was obvious how much it meant."
Ridley exhales, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I noticed too. I just. . .figured if it was serious, Lia would tell me herself. I didn’t want to come crashing in like I always do.”
Coach Lennox sighs and shuffles his notes, clearly weighing his options. "I'm going to speak to the GM. Groves, I can't guarantee your job is safe. Scott's got a no-trade clause. You don't." His eyes meet mine, not unkind but realistic.
The words sink into my chest like a stone.
It's everything I've feared since I arrived in Seattle.
That I'd finally find a home, a place where I belong, only to have it ripped away because I dared to love again.
The familiar panic rises, the same one I felt when my mother passed, when my father turned his back, when Devan and I fell apart years ago.
Coach and Marla leave the room, tension trailing behind them like a toxic cloud. The door barely closes before it opens again.
Lia peeks her head around the door, her face pale, Chloe now asleep against her shoulder. Ridley growls, but then motions for her to come in, his brotherly exasperation evident.
"Sit," Ridley says pointing to a chair, his tone brooking no argument.
She rolls her eyes, shooting daggers at her brother before settling beside Devan and me, her small frame somehow making us both feel stronger. Her free hand finds mine under the table, her fingers cold but grip firm.
Tor leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "We told you to come to us so we could help. That's what the team is for."
Devan nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You just did. And thank you. But yeah, we should've said something earlier."
"If we'd known sooner," Ridley mutters, still clearly annoyed, "we could've got ahead of this. We could've briefed PR, briefed Lennox. This could've been nothing but a controlled announcement instead of a social media feeding frenzy."
"I was scared," Lia says softly, her voice small but not apologetic. "I didn't want to screw things up for anyone. Especially not the team." She looks between Devan and me, her blue eyes sincere behind her glasses.
"We already knew how you felt about Devan," Ridley says, some softness returning to his voice. "Groves, though unconfirmed, complicates things. But it's obvious how he feels about you. We've all seen it." His gaze meets mine, understanding despite his protectiveness.
"I guess we didn't hide it well enough?" I say, shaking my head at our lack of stealth, a hint of wry humor breaking through my anxiety.
Tor chuckles, the sound easing some of the tension in the room.
"We're not blind. You guys have been mooning over each other in the locker room for months.
The way you look at each other during practice, how you always save seats for each other, the inside jokes.
It's been pretty obvious to anyone paying attention. "
A beat of awkward laughter softens the tension, and I feel some of the tightness in my chest ease.
"What if I get traded?" I whisper, voicing my deepest fear, the words barely audible. The thought of being ripped away from Seattle, from this team that's become family, from Devan and Lia and Chloe, it's almost unbearable.
"You won't," Tor says firmly, his captain's authority in full force. "Not without a fight. We've got your back. Just. . .lay low for now. Let it blow over. You're too valuable to the team."
Devan sighs, rubbing his temples where I know he gets tension headaches. "So, we wait."
"Exactly," Ridley agrees, his protective energy now encompassing all of us. "No games today. Just let social media do its thing. Maybe by tomorrow, someone else will do something stupid and it'll have moved on."
"Hopefully Derrick and Sebastian's kiss stole the front page,” Tor adds, his expression lightening. “Yours just ran second. Two hockey love stories in one night might actually work in our favor, too much for the media to focus on just one."
I nod, fingers crossed under the table, Lia's hand still in mine. The mention of Derrick's and Bast's relationship gives me a flicker of hope, strength in numbers, perhaps.
All I can do is hope.
Hope this team, this family, doesn't slip through my fingers because we were reckless last night and took a moment for ourselves. Hope that for once in my life, I get to keep something good, something real. Hope that the universe finally decides I've paid enough dues and lets me have this—them.