“Two minutes, Butterson,” I call, and then Randy and I get back in the Hummer and wait.

My phone goes off, so I check it, thinking maybe it’s Poppy messaging me between appointments. It’s not, it’s unknown. “Fuckin’ell.”

Randy looks up from his own phone. “What’s up?”

“Tash.”

“Why don’t you just block her?”

“I did. She got a new phone. Or another one. I don’t fucking know.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. She won’t let up. It’s been pretty constant since all the pictures of me and Poppy showed up.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit is right. She wants to meet up and talk when we’re in LA, which is Tash-speak for fucking with my head. I told her no, but she always does what she wants.”

“You think she’ll show up anyway?”

“I don’t know. Probably. She’ll want to see the team, right? It’s like she wants to screw this up for me.”

“I don’t get it. Why is she still all over you like this?”

“That’s a good question, and I don’t have an answer, other than she gets a kick out of messing with me.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah. I just need to avoid her in LA, and then hopefully she’ll let up after that.” I don’t know how else to get rid of her.

“You think you can do that?”

“I’m gonna have to, aren’t I?”

“I guess. How’re things with Poppy anyway?”

I think about how I left her this morning: hair all tangled, lips swollen and cheeks pink from the see-you-soon orgasms I gave her.

“Good. She’s good. Things are good.” For now.

Randy strokes his beard. “Does she know about Tash?”

“That she’s still calling me? No. That she exists. Yeah.”

“Do you think you should tell her?”

“And say what? My ex, or whatever I’m supposed to call her, still fucks with my head? She already knows it was a complicated situation. I don’t plan to see Tash, so it shouldn’t be an issue anyway, right?”

“I guess not, but it’s probably a good idea to be honest with her, especially since you seem to be turning into something serious.”

Miller opens the rear passenger door and drops into the seat behind Randy. “Thanks for waiting, Romance.”

“No problem. I know they’re hard to leave behind.”

He meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. “I really hope this gets easier.”

I finally understand his worry.

We had it out last week about why he’s been so shitty with me. Poppy was the issue. He thought I was going to treat her like she’s just another bunny.

It turns out when Poppy was performing her dick removal last year, she happened to tell him I was her first kiss. He’d known the entire time and said nothing.

Obviously I was pissed about that in return, because if he’d just said something, we could’ve avoided all the fucking tension in the first place. But she’d asked him not to tell me, and he figured if I couldn’t remember I didn’t deserve to know. He had a point, even though I didn’t like it.

And now that I know the how and the why and the where of our beginning, I’m glad he didn’t tell me, because getting that memory back is probably one of the best things to happen to me in a long time.

I put the Hummer in gear, and we head for the airport.

We win the first two games in the series. It’s a good high we’re riding, especially with the way last season ended. I talk to Poppy every day and avoid the bar scene after the games, having learned from Randy and Miller’s past mistakes.

Before we landed in LA, I blocked Tash’s number again. Not that it stops her from finding other ways to contact me. Today she used someone else’s phone to leave me a message.

Poppy has clients all day, so I don’t get in even a short phone conversation with her before I have to get on the ice. Tomorrow night I’ll be back in Chicago, and she and I have plans. I just have to get through this game and the rest of the night, and everything will be fine.

I’m not on the ball, though. I’m distracted. And having lost the last game they played on home ice, LA is chippy. I end up in the penalty box more than once.

After the game, Randy and Miller decide they want to hit the bar for a beer before calling it a night. I don’t go because I know Tash will show up like she does every time we have a game in LA, and this is the first one this season. The majority of the team still likes her because they have no idea what she’s really about.

It’s pretty late by the time I get to my room. I hope Rookie takes whatever bunny he’s picked up tonight back to her place, or gets his own damn hotel room. I’m tired of having to sleep on Miller and Randy’s couch.

I call Poppy, but I get her voicemail. I assume she’s sleeping since it’s even later in Chicago, and she told me she’s been making up for all the hours she’s missed since we started seeing each other.

I pack my bag so it’s ready for tomorrow morning and in case I have to vacate when Rookie comes back with his hands full of bunny. I can understand now, in a way I never did before, why Miller and Randy used to get pissed off about all the bunny shit when I’d have parties.

At twelve thirty, Rookie still hasn’t come up and I’m bagged. I haven’t heard anything from Tash, which should be a relief. But for some reason it isn’t. I send Poppy one last message about how I can’t wait to see her tomorrow, turn off the lights, and attempt to get some sleep.