Irresponsible Puckboy (Puckboys #2)

Last year, time flew so fast. Winning nearly every game does that though. It’s still too early to tell, but I’m worried about our chances of even making the playoffs this season.

The schedule is always so busy with back-to-back games, road trips, and constant training that for the last three nights away, Dex and I haven’t even wanted to make each other come, and when we got home last night, we went straight to bed and slept through until our alarms went off to tell us to get to the practice rink.

I don’t have any insecurity about the lack of sex, because I’ve been more than happy to climb into bed next to him and fall asleep like we always did as friends.

That part of our relationship hasn’t changed, and there’s something promising in that. It gives me hope that when the year is up, we can go back to how it was between us. Maybe.

I will always love Dex and always want more from him, but it’s not like I can force him to stay married to me. I can’t chain him to my bed and not let him leave.

Although the image of Dex tied to my bed does have its appeal.

When we get home from this morning’s practice skate, we drop our gear bags at the door, and Dex stalks toward the couch, but I chase after him and wrap my arm around his waist before he can throw himself down on it and stay there for the rest of the day.

“Let’s go to bed,” I murmur in his ear.

“And I’m suddenly not so exhausted.”

We don’t even bother undressing before collapsing on my bed.

We lie side by side, our legs intertwined, our mouths tasting and nipping at each other playfully.

While our hands wander, it’s gentle and exploring. There’s no need to hurry this up. It’s only been a few days since we were intimate, but the need to cherish Dex is more powerful than the need to maul him just to get off.

I roll us over so I’m on top, my hardening cock grinding against him. He tries to lift his hips, but I’m in a torturous mood where I’m going to draw out every moan. I’m going to take my time and—

My phone starts ringing.

“Noooo,” Dex complains.

“I’m turning it off.” By the time I wrestle it out of my pocket, the call’s gone to voicemail, but then Dex’s starts. I climb off him so he can get his phone.

“That can’t be good,” I say as I see the team PR number on my missed calls list. “Is that Graham?”

“Yep.” Dex hits Answer. “Hey, you’re on speaker.”

“We have a problem,” Graham says. “You need to come in.”

“What kind of problem?”

“There’s an article. Somehow it’s gotten out that you were married before officially breaking up with Jessica.”

“What? How?” I ask.

Color drains from Dex’s face.

“That’s unclear,” Graham says. “But we need to discuss our options.”

“We’ll be right there.” Dex ends the call and stands.

I flop onto my back. “He couldn’t have caught us while we were there?”

“It must’ve only been posted, or maybe he just missed us. We need to go.” Dex turns. “Wait, where did I put my phone?” It’s still in his hand, but he pats his pockets anyway. “Where’s my wallet? We need to go. We need to—”

“Dex,” I say and slowly get up. I approach him like he’s a fretting animal. “It’s going to be okay.” I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I have to hold on to that.

“Nope.” Dex paces halfway to the door and back again. “Everything I was worried about happening is happening, and if it was only my career on the line, I’d say fuck it because you’re more important to me than hockey could ever be, but this involves you too, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you stay with the team. I’ll ask for the trade, I’ll—”

I wrap him in my arms. “We don’t even know what it is yet. What site, what article. It could be anything. Graham might be overreacting. Let’s go and figure it out. Okay? No offering to be traded before we hear what our options are.”

Dex lets out a long exhale. “Okay.”

“I’ll drive because you’re in no state to be on the road.”

We leave right away and go back down to the parking garage to get my car. The whole way, Dex is tense, his shoulders hunched, and I hate that the happiest person I know could be this stressed.

Dex doesn’t stress about anything, not until this marriage fiasco anyway. He always goes with the flow, he’s up for fun, and he doesn’t have to think too hard. He’s not a problem solver because he’s never had any problems.

I hate seeing him go through this. As soon as we get on the road, I feel like I need to reassure him. But how? My brain can only come up with one solution, and I have to say, I’m not a fan of it.

“Maybe …” Ugh. I can’t believe I’m about to say this. “Maybe we should think about getting a divorce earlier than planned.”

Dex turns in his seat, his eyes wide. I glance at him, hating that he looks so hurt and lost. I want to take that away.

“You want a divorce?”

“This marriage has done nothing but stress you out. The logical thing to do to stop it is to just … end it.”

“You don’t want to be married to me anymore,” Dex says. He turns away and looks out the window. “I didn’t realize you were so unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy. You are. I didn’t know one piece of paper could strip away my best friend.”

“It’s not just a piece of paper though, is it?”

“Isn’t it? What’s changed between us after getting married other than the physical stuff? Nothing. We’re still best friends, we’re still each other’s number one priority. Nothing in our friendship has actually changed. The only difference apart from sex is how much stress it’s put you under. Taking that out of the equation, what do we have left? The same best friends we always were.”

Dex goes quiet for the rest of the drive, but we’re only a couple of minutes away. When I pull into the parking lot at the rink, he goes to get out, but I grip his arm to stop him.

“Are you okay?”

He glares, catching me off guard. “Sure, why wouldn’t I be okay? You have it all figured out.”

“No, I don’t have it figured out. That’s why we’re here. I’m trying to give us options.”

“And your immediate thought is divorce. Good to know where your head is at, then.” Dex pulls free of me and marches toward the building.

I can’t catch up to him in time before Graham meets us at the entrance. It must be bad for him to be out here waiting for us.

“We have press and media turning up within the hour. We need to get our story straight to make a statement when they get here.”

We follow him into his office, where Coach Roland and our GM, Walter Reid, are waiting.

I swallow hard. This is bigger than big.

The word trade flashes through my head over and over.

“What exactly did the article say?” I ask.

Graham looks at Dex. “When did you and Jessica break up exactly?”

“Like, what date?” Dex squeaks. “How am I supposed to remember?”

“Was it before or after you and Tripp got married?”

Dex looks at me, then back at Graham. His lips part, but no sound comes out.

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