Page 57 of Puck Your Bunny

Chapter 19

Isettle across Simon's thighs. His arms lock around my waist. He buries his face in my neck and takes a long breath. Wally sits on the sofa right beside us. Kel drops onto the cushion on my other side. We group together, bracing for whatever fallout comes next.

Kel pulls his phone out of his jeans pocket. His thumb swipes across the screen, going straight for the comment section on social media.

I brace for the worst. The image of fans demanding the League expel the Canval Reapers burns in my mind. They love pristine athletes. They hate messy scandals.

"Holy shit." Kel stares at his screen. His jaw drops.

A flinch rocks my body. I squeeze my eyes shut and press closer into Simon's chest to hide from the mess.

Simon lifts his head. He shifts his weight beneath me, preparing for a fight. "Read it."

"It says, 'Sin Bin is trash. Leave the Reapers alone.'" Kel scrolls down the page. His thumb moves fast. "Here's another one from a verified fan account. 'Look at Simon defending his Omega. That is top-tier Alpha behavior. We stan a protective king.'"

Wally leans over me to peer at Kel's screen.

"Keep going." I open my eyes and stare at Kel. My heart pounds against my ribs.

"They're tearing the paparazzi apart." Kel barks a rough laugh. He scrolls through another page. "'Imagine harassing a disabled man in a wheelchair for a clickbait headline. Lock the so-called journalists up.' Another one says, 'The Reapers just secured the Cup. They've got the ultimate motivation now. Do it for the Omega.'"

Kel looks up from his screen. A massive grin spreads across his face. "They're with us." He tosses his phone onto the sofa next to him. "The whole fan base is rallying behind the video. They're treating you like team royalty."

The tight ache in my chest releases. The terrifying vision of destroyed careers and revoked contracts fades away. The fans embrace the truth. They see the protective instincts of their star players and applaud them. The scandal holds no power when the truth lives in plain sight.

Simon relaxes beneath me. He drops his chin back down to my shoulder and lets out a long breath. Over by the tray table, Brendan hums a low, rumbling note. The calm settling over the house suits him.

I lean my head back against Simon. The fans cheering for us does little to settle the guilt twisting in my stomach. Finding a second match is a miracle, but moving on still feels like a betrayal to my old Alphas. I spent the last four weeks terrified. Losing my Alphas gave me rejection sickness, and running awaynow that we shared my Heat means giving the sickness to them. Every nightmare scenario I imagined came true tonight. The media tracked us down. The chaos landed right on my front porch. But sitting here surrounded by them, I recognize the shift in our reality.

We crossed the point of no return during my last Heat. The panic in their eyes tonight proved they need me to survive. Seeing the devotion on their faces washes the old doubts away. I have to stay.

Wally shifts closer on the cushion. Kel leans in. The tension drains out of my limbs. Tomorrow brings the blood tests and the official League paperwork, but right now, safe with them, none of that matters.

An hour after dinner, the adrenaline fades. The guys insist on staying the night. They need to stay close to know that I'm okay.

Wally and Kel pass out within minutes. Wally sprawls on his stomach with his thick arm thrown over my waist. Kel curls on his side near the edge, his soft snores filling the dark room.

I lie flat on my back, staring at the ceiling fan. My pulse races. The afternoon and evening replays in my head. The banging on the windows, the flashing cameras, the guys claiming me on a live broadcast. My skin tingles with residual nervous energy, keeping me awake.

A shadow shifts on my right side. Simon rolls onto his back, his chest rising and falling in a waking rhythm. I turn my head. The faint moonlight coming through the window blinds catches his green eyes. He watches me in the dark.

I reach out across the sheets, wrapping my fingers around his thick wrist to tug his arm.

Simon takes the hint. He slides off his empty side of the mattress and stands beside the bed in a pair of gray boxer briefs.

I slide out from under Wally's arm and lead Simon out of the bedroom. My bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor of thehallway. The house is quiet except for the low hum of the kitchen refrigerator.

We reach the living room, and I guide him toward the sofa. I sit on the edge of the cushions. Simon drops onto the seat next to me, leaving a few inches of space between our legs.

"Trouble sleeping?" Simon rests his elbows on his knees.

"My brain keeps spinning." I pull my knees to my chest. "The shouting outside. The cameras. Everything happened fast."

"We handled it." Simon shifts closer, the scent of amber and sea breeze rolling off his skin. "The team supports us. The fans are rallying. We own the narrative now."

"It still feels reckless. You put a target on your back for me."

"We claimed our Omega." Simon turns his body toward me. His green eyes lock onto mine. "I'd do it again tomorrow."