Foolish Puckboy

FOOLISH PUCKBOY Puckboys Book 4 EDEN FINLEY SAXON JAMES Copyright © 2023 by Eden Finley & Saxon James Cover Illustration Copyright © Story Styling Cover Designs Photography by Wander Aguiar Model: Gabriel Edited by One Love Editing https://oneloveediting.com All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to: Eden Finley - permissions - [email protected] or Saxon James - permissions - [email protected] Disclaimer This series is about the PR Nightmares of the NHL. These characters are flawed on purpose. The objectification of firefighters in this book in no way reflect the opinions or actions of the authors. In the Queer Collective’s defense, they shouldn’t make the uniforms so sexy. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the authors’ imaginations or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Contents 1. ALEKS 2. GABE 3. ALEKS 4. GABE 5. ALEKS 6. GABE 7. ALEKS 8. GABE 9. ALEKS 10. GABE 11. ALEKS 12. GABE 13. ALEKS 14. GABE 15. ALEKS 16. GABE 17. ALEKS 18. GABE 19. ALEKS 20. GABE 21. ALEKS 22. GABE 23. ALEKS 24. GABE 25. ALEKS 26. GABE 27. ALEKS 28. GABE 29. ALEKS 30. GABE 31. ALEKS 32. GABE 33. ALEKS 34. GABE EPILOGUE Thank you About Eden Finley About Saxon James ONE ALEKS The word “divorce” is supposed to elicit an eruption of all-out screaming and anger. So when Rebecca first mentioned it with a defeated sigh, I was shocked. Not because I didn’t expect it but in the way the words were delivered. They might have been whispered, but they held finality, and with one simple sentence, my marriage was over. I had the opportunity to pack up and leave San Jose, so I jumped at it, signed with Seattle, and made the move north. It was the right decision. It’s a clean break. New city. New team. New me. Then why does sitting on the balcony of my new place, drinking scotch, looking out at the water, feel like the same ol’ shit? Coming out as pansexual was supposed to open me up to more possibilities than ever before, but my old PR manager was right. The announcement happening fresh off my divorce has made the public think that I’m actually gay and what Rebecca and I had for all those years was a ruse. Or that I got so over being with a woman I wanted to try dick. It’s one stereotype after the other. Lane did warn me, so I only have myself to blame. No, I have society to blame as a whole. I’m only thankful this PR nightmare happened during the off-season, but because of the backlash, I haven’t tried to date anyone. Of any gender. Technically, I’ve gone on PR dates with some models—female, of course—a Canadian actress who films her TV show in Vancouver, and a couple of women my new PR team set me up with, but none of them have been real. They’ve been photo ops. When Rebecca and I split up, I was excited to get back out there. Now, I’m too self-conscious to date anyone for real. I foolishly thought I’d be the next Ezra Palaszczuk or Oskar Voyjik, the two biggest slutbags of the league. Oskar even gave me the imaginary crown when he fell in love with our PR manager. It’s not sitting so pretty on my head right now. When my doorbell rings, I freeze because the only person who knows my new address is— Fuck. I’m gonna kill him. I stand and make my way to the side of my balcony and look down to the right near my front door. I’m doubly gonna kill him. Oskar Voyjik didn’t only show up unannounced, but he brought nearly the whole Queer Collective with him. Almost every queer man in the NHL is at my doorstep, trying to be quiet and snickering to themselves like a bunch of dumbasses. “No one’s home,” I call out, and all seven of them look up at me. “Don’t make us drag you out of there,” Ezra yells. Maybe the company will do me good. Real company. Not PR fakeness. I’ve been whining about things being too much of the same, and if there’s anything I can count on these guys for, it’s disrupting the normalcy. I head inside and down the glass stairs of my fancy-ass new house to let them in. Oskar smiles at me when I open the door. “Hey, fuckface. Miss me yet?” “Like a hole in the head.” I step aside. “Come on in.” “I dunno,” Oskar muses. “The hole in Lane’s head comes in very useful.” I pretend to groan at his comment. Not gonna lie though, I will miss being on the same team as Oskar. Even though he only recently found out about my sexuality, being on the same team as another queer player was comforting. As far as I’m aware, I’m the only queer dude with Seattle. Definitely the only out one. The guys file in, Oskar, Ezra, Ezra’s boyfriend and teammate Anton, Tripp and his husband Dex from the Vegas team, and trailing behind them are Ayri Quinn and Asher Dalton from Buffalo—the two other newest recruits to the Collective alongside me. Ayri’s been playing for a few seasons already, but Asher’s a rookie this upcoming season. I nod at them. “Asher. Ayri.” Asher wears a stoic scowl, and I can’t tell if it’s just his face or if he’s mad at something. “Call me Quinn,” Ayri says. Asher adds, “He hates being called Ayri because his name rhymes with fairy.” “And thanks for bringing that up,” Quinn says. “I’m an orphan. You should revel in your childhood trauma like meeeee.” Okay, I really don’t know how to take Asher. “Uh, come on in.” They’ve been here