Page 236 of Pucking Around

“No. No fucking way,” I snap. “We are not going backwards. Look at me right now and tell me that we’renotgoing backwards.”

Both guys look at me but say nothing.

“Alright, listen,” I say, lowering my voice. “We have a chance here. Arealchance. This trip to LA could be the perfect timing. Let’s get her safely out of the way, and then it’s grand gesture time.”

Mars raises a brow at me. “Grand gesture time?”

“Yeah, I think we can deal with both pieces of this at once,” I explain. “We can get Rachel her job backandwe can come out to the public as the Fearsome Foursome, official name TBD.”

Caleb just huffs. “You think in five days we can get Rachel her job back and coordinate an entire public relations campaign? Not to mention we have jobs. You both have to play hockey, remember?”

“Of course, I do,” I reply. “Which is why we’re gonna need some help. We’re gonna call in every favor we collectively have. That’s the point of a grand gesture, right? It takes a group effort. The press will be expecting a spectacle with this, so let’s give it to them. Go big or go fucking home. Are you both with me?”

Caleb sighs. “Tell me your idea first before I say yes.”

I grin at him. “Oh, you’re gonna fucking love it.”

102

Four days without my guys and I’m a mess. Not that I’ve gone cold turkey. That’s not possible when you’re unofficially married to Jake Compton. He texts me as much as ever. The time change makes it fun, since he’s typically up at 6:00am east coast time, and now I’m on the west coast.

I’ve been trying to just lie low, spending quality time with my mom, relaxing by her pool. She’s enforcing a strict media ban. Dad’s team is still dealing with the smattering of press requests, keeping me out of it, and the Price houses are a no TV, no news, no gossip safe haven. We listen to music, cook, and ignore the outside world. It’s perfect. An emotional battery recharge.

It turns out that my fear of coming out to my parents as polyamorous was wholly unnecessary…because Harrison came out for me. He did a great job of coaching them into acting natural, but I saw through their weird, forced smiles in a second. The little fink ratted me out.

“Don’t be mad at Harri, Lem,” Daddy said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and giving me a squeeze. “He was just playing the overprotective twin card. If we didn’t swear on our lives that we’d be cool when you told us, he threatened to withhold grandchildren.”

So that was it. That was the big reveal. As far as daddy is concerned, if I’m happy, he’s happy for me. He wants them to come over for dinner after their game to officially meet them.

Mom has been the harder sell, but then she asks the harder questions. She wants details, backstories, dates. She wants to know things like ‘If you have children, who will be the father? Or do none of you care?’ You know, casual poolside chats.

Is it strange to say I’m not worried? I’m not worried about the big unanswered questions in our relationship. The essential things are there. I love them and they love me. We want a life together. We’re willing to fight for it. The rest is just details.

At this point, I’m more concerned about my suspension. My career aspirations have never been about needing money. I know that’s an incredibly privileged thing to say, but it’s true. I’ve never had to work. I choose to work. I wanted to go to med school and become a doctor. I wanted the long hours in the lab, thankless night shifts at the clinic. And I love the sweat and stress of game day. I love feeling like part of the team. I may not be a player, but I earn a little piece of every win too.

This suspension is my fault. I’ll accept it if they choose to terminate me. But damn will it hurt. It doesn’t matter if I think I did the right thing by Ilmari. I broke the rules. We’re not supposed to let emotion cloud our judgement.

I understand…but I also disagree. Humans are complicated. We’re emotional. Our stories are so rarely linear, our health journeys dynamic. If I didn’t have the emotion of Ilmari’s story fueling me, I might have made different choices regarding his care. Maybe I would have chosen the path of Avery and dismissed him out of hand.

I just wish I could do more to fight for my job. I want to stand before Doctor Tyler and the General Manager and state my case. But in four long days, the only thing Tyler has asked for are the scans from Cincinnati. Other than that, it’s been radio silence on all fronts.

It’s been almost eerily quiet. Nothing from Poppy. Nothing from dad’s PR team. Just peace…and quiet…and text updates from Jake regarding pelican watch.

The guys say they don’t have any updates, but I’ve been part of the team for months now. The Rays all gossip worse than a ladies’ knitting circle. They know something. They’re just keeping it from me. Which is stressing me the fuck out.

Their plane touched down super early this morning. Since I’m on suspension, I don’t have pass privileges to see them at the arena or the hotel. Not that I would try. I’m not doing anything to risk my suspension getting worse. I don’t even want to go to the game tonight. Though Jake has made it crystal clear they expect to see me there. Last night, he forwarded me four tickets. Rays family area, right on the ice.

I’m trying not to think about it. We’re all meeting for a quick lunch in an hour. Everything will look brighter once I’m back in their arms.

“Areyou sure this is the place?” I say, peering through the dark glass of the SUV.

Daddy keeps a few drivers on staff, and he assigned Carl to me for the week. He’s a great guy. I’ve known him since I was fourteen. “That’s the name you gave me, honey,” he says from the front seat. “GPS says it’s right here.”

I peer out the window again. When Jake sent me the name of the café, I just forwarded it to Carl and finished getting ready. I was expecting it to be a little hole in the wall. Caleb likes finding quirky places with sandwiches named after celebrities. Otherwise, Jake drags us out for expensive sushi.

This is neither. It looks like the restaurant of a swanky hotel.

“You staying, or going, honey?” says Carl. “I gotta move this beast.”