Irresponsible Puckboy (Puckboys, #2)

by Eden Finley

“You’ll always have me. I don’t even need the piece of paper.” That makes me warm inside. “What about a ring?” “The only ring I need is the one that says Stanley Cup Champions on it.” “A-fucking-men.”

“And the water wings?” “I thought you’d never ask.” He looks proud of himself. “They’re to stop me from drowning in all this commitment.”

The idea of choosing one person to spend my whole life with is scary. But as long as Tripp is always there, I know I can get through anything.

From the moment I walked into the Vegas locker room, Dex was my best friend. He was the first to welcome me, the first to offer to hang out, and he’s been constantly by my side ever since. Somewhere along the way, my feelings just happened. One day we were on the ice for our warm-up skate before a game, and after I did my usual stretching and talking to my crossbar asking for cooperation, Dex skated up to me and held out his fist for me to bump. It was our own pregame ritual, just between us. Fist bump, chest bump, hug, then a fake-out high five. In that order. Juvenile maybe, but the crowd who’s there early enough for warm-ups love it. It wasn’t supposed to become a thing, but it did. And it was in that moment, doing something we had done together thousands of times, that I realized I was in love with him.

“I always cry at weddings.” “Because they’re so beautiful?” “No, because every time a couple gets married, a manwhore fairy dies. We just killed someone, and you don’t even care.” I finally risk looking at his face, because I know he’ll be smiling and not so concerned that my eyes are involuntarily leaking. “A … manwhore fairy.” His brow furrows. “Umm, what exactly is a manwhore fairy?” “Whenever you have a random hookup, a gay manwhore fairy gets its wings. It’s legend, passed on to all of the baby gays.”

“Wow. What a great … vacation. Where’s the fun in hiking if you don’t get orgasms out of it?” “I think I’ve been hiking wrong,” I mumble.

Hmm, how to tell my fake husband that I have a fake boyfriend … I’m starting to regret going on this trip.

“Are you done yet?” I ask. “Just what every guy wants to hear during sex,” Oskar says. He jumps higher, the bed creaking with every move. “Come help me. Bang your head against the wall.”

“It’s why you love me.” “I can say with no uncertainty that is not true. It might be your worst trait.” He continues to jump, and the bedsprings protest under his weight. “You’re wrong. My worst trait is my penis.” I cock my head at him. “Which is damn near perfect. Just like the rest of me.” “Careful, you’re sounding a hell of a lot like Ezra right now.” Finally, he stops, but then he looks at me like I said the worst thing I could ever say. “Take that back.”

“I’m not possessive!” “Who do I belong to?” “Me, but—” He grins. “Shut up.”

“Have you guys ever gotten the impression Dex is in love with Tripp as much as Tripp is in love with him, but he just doesn’t realize?”

Ezra leans in closer to Anton and mutters, “Just so you know, I love you, I will love you forever, but if Henry Cavill comes knocking, you’re on your own. Apparently, I don’t love you as much as Tripp loves Dex.” “Hey, if Henry Cavill comes knocking, I’ll ask him to join us.”

“At least you got your dream man after all?” Sienna says. I can’t tell if she’s being helpful or a smartass. “Yes,” I deadpan. “I’m so happy we’ve been married for three weeks, only been aware of it for a few days, and he already wants a divorce. You’re so right. It’s all my dreams come true.”

I’m his best friend. He’s my heart and soul. And nothing will ever change that. Not even his inability to love me back.

Us. Dex and Tripp. The Mitchell brothers. Best friends. Husbands. Fuck buddies? Then again, can you really be fuck buddies with your husband?

This is what’s best for him. A divorce. Then he can move on. Meanwhile, I’ll remain pathetically in love with my best friend. Holy shit … I’m in love with Tripp.

“I’m dumb a lot of the time, but the best dumb decision I ever made was marrying you. Because now I know why I could spend forever with you, and only you. I know we’re supposed to stand up here and announce some bogus divorce, but I don’t want that. I want us.” My voice breaks. “Always. Forever. Because I am so fucking in love with you, I don’t know myself without you.”

“Did you mean it?” Tripp asks. “Or was it another lie to try to keep us both here?” “That I’m in love with you? One hundred percent.” Tripp’s eyes flutter closed. “You have no idea how long I’ve craved to hear you say that.” “I tell you I love you all the time.” “Yeah, that you love me like a brother.” “After all the orgasms we’ve given each other, I hope it’s not brotherly.”

“Oh, no,” I mock. “My husband loves me.” “I swear, any excuse for you to use the H word.” “I know how much you like hearing it.” “I prefer the L word myself.” “Loser?” “Fuck you.”