Sincerely, The Puck Bunny (Totally Pucked #2)(96)

When people say, “do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life,” it’s true. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that I get to wake up and play hockey for a living, but at the same time, I busted my ass to be here. I worked from sun up to sun down to be the player I am today.

To celebrate another great practice, we decided to come out tonight for a night of bunnies and booze. Except, as of late, things have been… less exciting, since Briggs is walking the straight and narrow or he’s off the team. He’s been in more fights the past six months than I have in my entire hockey career.

So, to make sure that he stays out of trouble, that he doesn’t find himself in front of a pap’s camera, or worse, stuck in a jail cell for another night, I’m stuck babysitting until further notice.

Hockey player or hockey-player nanny? That is the real question.

The rest of the night passes uneventfully, thanks to Briggs’s sour mood. Asher, Hudson and Graham each found a puck bunny for the night and dipped out before midnight, leaving me and Briggs alone, so I decide to cut out as well.

“I’m headed out, you want a ride?” I ask Briggs, who’s rapid-fire typing on his phone.

He doesn’t answer me, so I punch him in the shoulder to get his attention.

“Fuck, what was that for?”

“Dude, you’re in a bar and have been glued to your phone all night. I’m out, you need a ride?”

He shakes his head no. “I’ll call an Uber later.”

“Stay out of shit, dude, seriously. I’m not bailing you out of jail, and please, for God’s sake, wrap it up. We don’t need miniature versions of you skating around.” I grin, teasing him.

The dick nods, barely acknowledging me, eyes still focused on his phone. Asshole. I down the rest of my beer and leave the bottle on the table, with a few bills I pull from my wallet, and then make my way out of the bar. Thankfully, we frequent this place often, and the owner lets us use the back door, so we can avoid fans and the media. As much as I love having my picture taken, I’m not a fan of the paps.

I open the back door of the building and step outside into the cool night air, inhaling a deep breath before I begin walking across the pavement to find my truck in the sea of vehicles. Just as I’m about to unlock it, my phone rings in my pocket. I fish it out and see it’s Holland, my sister’s best friend.

Weird. Why would she be calling me after midnight?

I swipe and answer, “You know that they say any calls after ten are booty calls, right?”

“Reed?” She all but yells into the phone. The music in the background is so damn loud I can hardly hear her.

“Holland? What’s up? You realize it’s after midnight?”

I unlock my truck and jump inside, starting the engine.

“Uh, well, something happened.” Her words are muffled. The connection sounds like shit, and I can barely hear what she’s saying. “Can you come get us, please? We’re at Sorority Row.”

I’ve known Holland since we were kids and never once has she asked me to pick her or Emery up anywhere, since they generally Uber everywhere. It makes me worried that something happened.

“Are you and Emery safe?”

“Yes. Emery just… had a tiny bit too much tonight,” she mutters.

“I’ll be there in ten. Where are you?”

“Upstairs bathroom.” A second later, I hear the sound of heaving. Great, Emery’s drunk as shit. I make a mental note to grab a bucket at the sorority house.

I slam my truck into drive and pull out of the parking lot opposite the club. Thank fuck I’m downtown, and not at home, because this drive would’ve taken twice as long. Sorority Row is only ten minutes from the bar.

My tires ramp up the curb when I come to a stop then park, not bothering to even shut the truck off before I hop out and stalk up the steps of the house. By the looks of it, there’s a massive party happening, and it makes my blood boil. I hate my sister going here. I know this is where entitled, rich douchebags party, and I want Emery nowhere near them. Especially since I can’t have eyes on her.

I’m a big brother, sue me. I’ve always protected her and it’s not any different now that she’s an adult.

Once I’m inside the house, there’s people everywhere dressed in togas and skimpy lingerie. I’ve spent many nights here, pre-NHL days, and I know exactly what tonight’s about. It’s rush week. The craziest week of the entire year, where everyone is doing whatever they can to be selected to pledge. There’s fighting, hazing, a bunch of shit they shouldn’t be doing. Meaning, my little sister shouldn’t fucking be here.

I push through a crowd of people, trying to make my way to the stairwell.

A guy, wearing a toga, steps in front of me as I’m about to climb the stairs, and I run smack into him.

Damnit.

“Holy shit! You’re Reed Davidson, can I have a photo, man?”

“Sorry, dude, I’m looking for someone.” I sidestep him then take the stairs two at a time and make my way down the hallway until I find the bathroom. When I swing the last door to the right open, I find my sister sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mascara streaking down her cheeks and a drunken grin.

“Oh, it’s my brother, lovely,” she slurs. “What the hell are you doing here?”