The afternoon consists of Spencer and I making rounds with the team. We pose for pictures, sign autographs, talk with fans and kids, and staff. After a bit, we grab food from the booth Johnson mans before heading into the main adoption center.

Out here, the noise and hoopla of the event is only a dull thrum. Cats and dogs, kittens and puppies roam around sectioned off areas of one large room, bumping against the walls of their pens, squealing for attention, and just generally making me wish I could have a fuzzy critter of my own.

Really, I probably could. Moving a dog or cat around with me all over the US and Canada would be easier than dragging a girl along.

I remind myself of that as Spencer, and I take up seats in a pen opposite Reece and Kaila.

My life is good. I'm doing what I love, get to travel, hang out with some solid guys, and party to my heart's content. Outside my team, I like not having commitments. I can go wherever I want, drink however much I want, and sleep with whoever I want.

Still, I can't help the protective urges I feel for Reece. Seeing her today, the return of that haunted look in her eyes, made something inside me boil. Not for the first time, I fantasize about maiming the dickless little shit who did that to her. So help me, I'll stuff him in my trunk and help people look for his body.

I hate the thought of her alone and scared. I hate what he did to her, that she has to mark her skin to keep him out of her mind.

Parents and their kids come and go, couples of all ages wander through, elderly women in need of companionship search for the perfect addition. Kaila and Reece cuddle the little furballs, nuzzling their soft bodies and cooing at their sweet expressions and adorable yawns. My heart soars seeing her smile so huge, her expression so carefree.

A dense momma Pitbull plops herself in my lap, whiplike tail thudding against the floor while I scrub the sweet spot around her neck and jowls. Spencer is occupied with a little Chihuahua mix, hilarious considering it practically fits in one of his massive palms.

"So," Spencer starts, holding the little dog like a teacup. "You and Reece."

"I told you," I wrench my gaze away from her. "We're just friends."

"Bullshit. You haven't taken your eyes off her since she got into the car."

"Well, of course," I snark. "Prettier alternative to having your ugly mug to look at in the passenger seat."

"Deflect with humor all you want, Killfucker," Spencer chuckles. "You like her."

"Friends." I declare again.

"Ask her out."

"Ha!" I bark. "Absolutely not."

"Aww." Spencer jeers. "Little Bas caught feelings and how he's runnin' scared."

"I'm about to give you a feeling you don't want, so can it." I cast a glance at Reece and Kaila, make sure they're still occupied with their cuddle buddies and not paying attention to us. "Besides, I don't date."

"Oh yeah," Spencer drawls. "Because you're an idiot and keep switching cities. Something like that?"

"Exactament." I scrub momma pitty's swollen pregnant belly. "Wouldn't be fair to anyone who got involved with me."

Spencer treadmills the tiny dog on his palms, eyes fixed on Kaila across the way. "You could always, y'know, stay put."

"On what team?" I scoff. "I'm good, but I have no tenure."

He rolls his massive shoulders. "The Cyclones have an opening for alternate captain."

The bark of laughter is out before I can rightfully shove it back down my throat. It's enough to startle Spencer's little Chihuahua out of his hands. Momma pitty doesn't budge, so he starts scrubbing her ears.

"Captain?" I echo stupidly.

"Why not?" Spencer chuckles. "You have all those summers coaching for Elites. You know your shit, even if you pretend not to. I think you'd be a good fit for the role."

I shake my head, look back out toward Kaila and Reece.

Spencer claps my shoulder. "C'mon. I need someone I can rely on if I get injured or something."

"Well, don't get hurt," I counter.

Spencer heaves a sigh, thankfully electing not to argue further. Instead, his attention wavers, traveling back to Kaila and softening into a look I don't think he realizes he's making.

"Not your typical flavor of the week." I caution him.

He smiles, but it lacks the usual crass edge. "I know. She's cool people."

"She is." I nod, eyes trickling over Reece. "But what about Anneliese and Brixton?"

That makes him grimace. "I don't know."

"I want to take a puppy home." Reece sighs, clutching at the baby Australian Shephard in her arms. My heart does a weird summersault when it licks her cheek and makes her nose wrinkle.

"I know! Me too!" Kaila cries, engulfing a protesting cat in a hug. It squirms, but Kaila holds on tighter. "Look at this little—ow!" She drops the cat with a yelp, hand going to her forearm where four ugly scratches start to bubble up with blood.

"Shit," Spencer mutters, crossing to her in two huge strides. "You okay?"

"It's just a scratch," Kaila heaves breathlessly, staring up at him like he's a knight ridden in on a white horse. "I'm fine."

Spencer pulls her to her feet. "Let's get it cleaned up, at least."

They leave together, offering words of parting and a promise to meet up later. I take the opportunity to scoot closer to Reece. Momma pitty dozes contentedly where I left her, a shaggy puppy clumsily padding forward to occupy vacated lap space.

"Okay," I say, smiling when it presses in for pets. "I speak English pretty well, right?"

She stares at me in dubious confusion. "Um, yes?"

"So," I shift closer, bump her knee with mine. "I'll teach you the only word you'll ever need in French."

She scoffs, cocks a disbelieving brow, and rubs her puppy's belly. "Really? You can sum up an entire language with one word?"

"Of course." I work my tongue ring where I smirk.

"Anyone ever tell you that you're awfully pretentious?" She teases.

"Oh, all the time," I declare with an air of regality, "they use other words too. Amazing, amicable, alluring—those are just the A's."

"How about humble?"

"Oh God, no, never that," I grimace. She kicks out and lands a solid blow to my shin. I feign pain. "Hey now, if you want to learn French, you can't abuse your teacher."

She sobers slightly, and I realize my mistake in using the word 'abuse' so casually.

"Fine then." She takes in a tight breath, plays with her puppy's ears, "Teach me something."

I lean forward, enunciate, "Putain."

"Putain?" she echoes, face wrinkling.

I smile and tap my finger against her nose, just over the piercing. "More through your nose, but yes. Putain."

"And what does that mean?" She prompts, doubtful yet curious.

I give a mischievous grin before I deadpan, "Literally? It means 'whore.'"

She blinks, seems to debate whether I'm messing with her or not. Then her face cracks, and her shoulders quiver with laughter so hard she has to bury her face in the puppy's fur to suppress the snickers.

"Not-literally, it means everything else." I continue, expression serious.

She peeks at me around puffs of fur. I'm struck with the very real urge to reach out, touch her cheek and admire the softness of her skin.

"Really?" She giggles, settles the puppy in her lap again, and flicks her hair over her shoulder. "How about 'where's the bathroom?'"

I grab my fluffy puppy around the belly and get to my feet in one languid movement. Then I cover my crotch, twist my face in an expression of panic, and start hopping from one foot to the other, puppy in my free hand. "Putain!"

She can't stop the laughter this time, nearly smothers the puppy as she leans forward over it, body shaking with glee. I plop back down beside her, elated at the sound of her giggles and smiling so hard I'm sure my face will crack. Then Reece plucks up a dog toy and hurls it at my face.

I deflect, which prompts a puppy pile as four little creatures descend on the toy with high-pitched barks and yips.

Reece bats those pretty browns at me. "What about 'I'm lost?'"

I mime holding a map, squint, and start peering around, "Putain?"

Her giggles escalate to hysteria.

Grinning, I retrieve another dog toy, tossing it at her like she did me. "It can even mean 'stop throwing dog toys at me, or I'll start throwing them back.'"

Gasping, she clutches the toy closest to her and lashes out with it. "Putain!"

I guffaw, falling back and instantly getting buried under furry bodies. "Whoo-hoo!" I yell, peering at her over my self-inflicted puppy pile. "You've got it! Mastered French! Tres bien."

Reece fist-bumps the air. "Putain!"

"Such language!" Spencer chides, stepping back toward our playpen. Kaila is tucked under his arm, cat scratch covered with an adhesive bandage. "This is a family-friendly event. Killfeather. You corrupting Reagan?"

"I'm pure as the driven snow, Haart," I clutch a hand to my chest from under my pile of wriggling puppy bodies. "Reece was corrupting me."

Spencer does a sweep over the immediate area before leaning over and whispering, "Bullshit."

For whatever reason, that makes Reece and I collapse into a further rash of giggles and guffaws. Of course, that leaves Spencer and Kaila standing and looking bewildered, but we can't be brought to care. Slowly, I extract myself from my puppy pile, give a final jowl-scrub to momma pitty, and we head out from the event.

Reece looks forlorn, leaving her Aussie pup, brown eyes big with regret. Kaila falls back beside her friend, touches her elbow. "You should bring him home; your psychiatrist said an emotional support animal would be good for you."

A short, dark laugh. "I wish, Kay, but we can't pay for a puppy. Maybe someday." Reece smiles, but it doesn't touch her eyes.

They join us as we exit the adoption center, Kaila looking contemplative and Reece staring at her feet. I ignore the pull in my chest, the one that says I should go back and get the Aussie pup. Just friends.

"Sure you don't want one more try at getting dunked?" Spencer teases as we cross in front of the tank.

The crowds have mostly dispersed. But, like the gigantic children we all are, the hockey players are standing around in their underwear and paying to keep dunking one another. I feel bad for the janitorial crew with all the standing water.

"What, Haart?" I start doing a striptease, rolling my hips while I slowly pull the jersey up. "Can't get enough of this body in the locker room?"

"Alright, never mind!" When I don't stop and pull the jersey all the way off, he gives me a hard shove in the chest. "Put your shirt back on! Before you poke someone's eye out."

I cackle, glance at Reece to see if she's as amused as I am.

Instead of laughter, I'm met with delicately parted lips and flushed cheeks. Her gaze does a slow, heated sweep of my bare skin. I feel it like tendrils of flame, flooding into my chest and pooling low in my belly.

Interesting.

I pull my jersey back over my head, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the sly smile off my face. Friends, asshole.

"You ladies ready?" I prompt.

The afternoon came and went while we played with the critters. Spencer gives me a hard punch in the gut when I open the door for him and call him ma'am. Wheezing with laughter and pain, I climb into the Audi, and we head back toward the Anarchy Café.

Of course, Spencer and I are starving by the time we arrive. Thankfully, Lukas doesn't seem at all perturbed to be fixing up enough sandwiches to feed a small army, including Reece and Kaila.

The café isn't super busy, though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised for a Sunday evening. We take seats in plush leather chairs around a central table covered in paperback books and magazines. Lukas brings out mountains of food and snacks moments later, and everyone tucks into their late dinner.

Well, everyone but Reece, that is.

She's turned in her chair, glowering at the Wall of Expression. I follow her gaze, glad I'm too busy chewing for her to notice my smile. My retort to her phrase remains.

Safer isn't better ;)

Kaila notices the direction of her gaze, too. "C'mon, Reecie. Eat a bit of something before you get your fingers covered in Sharpie."

I finish stuffing the last of the ham and swiss in my mouth and chase it with water. "More butchering?"

"No," Reece mutters. "This time, they just wrote back."

"So less douche-baggy?" I ask hopefully.

She leers at me. "No! Just as douchey."

"Mind filling me in, here?" Spencer finishes his sandwiches and moves onto chips.

"Someone's been messing with Reece's phrases on the Wall," Kaila provides. "Turning her frown upside down."

Reece glowers at her friend. "It's my form of self-expression, and they are ruining it."

"Oh, come on!" Kaila pouts. "They're pretty!"

I like her.

Reece huffs and stands up from the leather chair she occupied. While Kaila rolls her eyes and goes back to chatting up Spencer, I follow the path of her war march with my gaze. With her back to me, I can't see what she's writing. Instead, I fixate on the graceful slope of her neck, the slight crease in her brow as she concentrates.

She runs her fingers through her hair, and I find myself suddenly jealous of those fingers. Especially as they slide down, caress her neck and throat in thought. I want to replace them with my lips, my tongue. I want to hold her to me, steal the hurt from her eyes, the pain from her soul. I want to carry her burden, if just for a bit.

"Sounds great, right Bas?"

I start, realize I have no idea what's going on. "What?"

Kaila gives me a knowing smile. Over her shoulder, Spencer fixes me with a glower that reads—Dude, you're a really shitty wingman right now.

"I was just telling Kaila," Spencer tries again, "That we have a home game Saturday, and it would be awesome if they could come. Help cheer us on against the Walleye."

I perk up at that. "That would be terrific."

Kaila claps her hands together. "Yay!"

"Haart's a real force of nature on the ice."

"There!" Reece caps her sharpie and plops down on the chair. At Kaila's sharp look, she picks up her sandwich and takes a bite. "He can stick that in his pipe and smoke it."

I resist the urge to turn and see the new phrase. Barely.

"How do you know it's a guy?" I defend, smirking when Reece scoffs, bites into the sandwich, and flips me the middle finger.

"Because that's what guys do," she retorts, glancing back at the Wall, "they ruin shit."

A moment of awkward silence shifts between the four of us, Kaila scowling in Reece's direction, the latter returning the glare with equal venom, a silent conversation passing between the two. Spencer stares quizzically at me; I return it with a carefully neutral expression, aware that it's not my place to share Reece's secrets.

Kaila clears her throat. "Guess what, Reecie?" She beams, practically vibrating out of her seat with excitement and effectively breaking the tension. "We're going to a hockey game!"

Reece blinks for a moment, then laughs. "I'm sorry. For a second, I thought you said 'we.'"

"Yes, 'we.'" Kaila props her hands on her hips. "You and me. These two will be in the rink.

Reece starts to curl up on herself, no doubt remembering the crowd from earlier this afternoon. "I don't know..."

"You'll be sitting behind the home team," I reassure her. "Everyone is there for the same reason you are—cheer for us when we do well and boo us when we fuck up."

My stomach does that weird flop again when she manages a smile at that. "We'll see." She concedes. "I'm not sure; I may have homework."

"Oh, bullshit—"

"Of course," I cut Kaila off.