Page 14 of Secret Pucking Unicorn

My bark of laughter slips out. “You and I both know Carter would pout if I wore anyone else’s number but his. I don’t want to end up homeless.”

“Carter?”

Shrugging, I scrunch up my face. “It’s weird, but I’m trying to get used to calling everyone by their last name or their nickname. I want to fit in.”

“So, Mac?”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t know if I can do that one. He’s been Declan since I could talk. His name was my first word.”

“Aw. That’s adorable.” Daphne holds her clasped hands to her heart. “Were your parents upset it wasn’t Mama or Dada?”

“Doubtful they even knew. They were off in Italy or Austria. Maybe Dubai.”

“Have you been in touch with them lately?” she asks.

I repack the duffle bag, happy to have something to focus on. “Nope. But I hope to be now that we’re all in New Jersey. I’m tired of being alone.”

Sniffling, Daphne grabs a tissue and wipes her eyes. Getting out of her chair, she comes around the desk and bends down to hug me. Her baby bump is pressing into my arm that’s trapped between us. “Randi, you’re not on your own. You have me. You have us. You’re not alone.”

I know she sincerely believes what she’s saying, and I love her for that. But once Birdie arrives, she’s going to be busy building her family with Logan, and I will be an afterthought. The focus will be on the baby, as it should be. Every baby deserves to be the center of their parents’ world. I know that’s how it will be, if I’m ever fortunate enough to have a family of my own. If I can create some stability here, then maybe I can take the steps to make that part of my dream come true.

After Daphne composes herself, she sits behind her desk again, and we chat some more about the travel plans. We go through the routine for game day when we are away. Of course, some aspects are unique because this is ice hockey and not rugby, but enough is similar despite being in the US and not New Zealand. Professional sports is a universal language to a certain extent. I’m not fluent yet, but I’m certainly conversant. Kinda like I am with German. Why my parents enrolled me in a German school in Portugal still doesn’t make sense to me. But I was eleven then and realizing very little my parents did when it came to me was based on logic. I assume it was the only school willing to accept me as a boarder on short notice. For the term I was there, I picked up enough of both German and Portuguese to get by. Of course, most of it was slang words not appropriate for an eleven-year-old girl, but you do what’s necessary to fit in.

Grabbing my coat and duffle bag, I go to my office. Entering through the doorway from the dining room door, I gasp when I see the furniture rearranged how Declan suggested it yesterday. It’s perfect. There is a thermos on my desk with a note propped on it. Sitting down, I take a moment to appreciate the view of the beach and the ocean. When I grab the note, I recognize Dec’s handwriting.

“Let me know if you don’t like the furniture. I’ll move it back. I was going to ask, but you weren’t around. Tea in the thermos. Why did you drink the coffee?????”

He signed it with a “D,” like there was any doubt who had done this for me. He even put a mug from the dining room next to the thermos. Talk about service. Taking the hint, I unscrew the lid and close my eyes to enjoy the soothing fragrance of the tea carried on the rising steam. Pouring my mug, I cup it in both hands and lean back in my desk chair with a sigh. My first sip is what it must have been like for any lucky mortal to get their first taste of ambrosia. It is a heavenly experience. First a cheese toastie and now a thermos full of tea. I will end up completely spoiled if this keeps up. He’d do this for anyone, I’m sure. He’s a kind man. He’s doing it to be nice and because we’re old friends. I’m not special. I need to remember that.

But I can break the pattern. I’m in charge of my life now. I’m an adult who gets to choose where I live and it’s up to me when I leave. If I leave at all. I can make connections and if they don’t grow, I can make new connections. It is going to be okay. I am going to make friends. I will figure out how to make sure they like me. My life is going to look like the old sitcom where everyone would sit around the coffee shop and talk and be best friends. Sure, it was a made-up TV show, but it doesn’t mean I can’t have it too.

9

DECLAN

I do everything I can to focus on practice and not let my mind wander to Miranda. Does she like that I moved her furniture, or did I overstep? Is leaving her tea creepy? I can’t help it. Every instinct I have is to take care of her. To protect her. To make her happy. It has been since I was a boy and hated to see her lonely or unhappy, and it’s gotten stronger through the years. Shifters throw around the term fated mate to explain how they feel about their partner, but true fated-in-the-stars meant-to-be mates are extremely rare.

That’s not to take away from the deep feelings of love people have for each other. It’s a wonderful thing. But having a fated mate goes beyond love. You are destined to be together and if you ignore the dictates of fate, there are consequences. It is wonderful when you are together and torturous when you are apart. That’s how it has been for me in the years we’ve been thousands of miles away from each other. I knew she was more than the girl I had a crush on when I was eighteen and she was sixteen when we saw each other in person again. She was my fated mate. That was it. My heart started pounding. I couldn’t form coherent sentences. My wolf was all, She’s cute, we like her! I agreed wholeheartedly. Then my unicorn cleared his throat, tapped me on the shoulder, and informed me, She’s your mate. She’s the one you are fated to be with. There is no one else. There will be no one else for you. If you are not with her, you will be alone. Forever.

Not everyone has a fated mate. People throw the term around like they do saying someone is a friend when all they are is an acquaintance. But it’s a real thing that means something. I will never have what I feel for Miranda for someone else. Now that we are finally in the same place, I need to get Miranda to have the same feelings for me as I do for her. Without freaking her out and scaring her away.

Non-shifters don’t feel the same sense of fate shifters do. At least, I don’t think they do. I’ve never discussed it with Miranda. I’ve been afraid of pushing her too hard, too fast, and losing her altogether. I dream of her, and it feels like we’re together. I’m always in my unicorn form, never as a man or as my wolf. We’re in the field near the gazebo where we spent much of our time together as children. The daisies and forget-me-nots are blooming. The sun is warm on our skin. As time has passed, we’ve gotten older in my dreams and it’s like being together in real time. We never get to touch or speak but just being together brings me peace. That’s our fate bond at work. I don’t know if she has the dreams. But the glimpse of what our future could be is what keeps me going.

Since it is a travel day and we aren’t playing, we dress in our team-branded gear for our bus ride to the local airport. It’s nice not to be flying in a suit. We had a light practice and now we are all showered and dressed, and we are getting on the bus parked across from the pier. I can easily see over the crowd and am looking for Miranda. I’m hoping we can sit together on the bus and on the plane.

Did something happen, and she’s not traveling with us after all? My wolf stirs. If I were shifted, he’d be pacing. But I’m me and I need to keep my cool. This is her second day here. I don’t want to make her the center of attention because I can’t control myself. Yes, I’m a shifter and I have that side to me, but above all, I am a man and in control of myself at all times. No longer am I the boy in the throes of puberty learning how to deal with changes, not only to my human body, but also to the two other creatures who are part of and growing with me. Sometimes arguing with each other and making me be the swing vote like a chaotic tribal council on Survivor. I’m past that.

I don’t see Daphne either. Maybe that’s a good thing? They are together and we wouldn’t leave Daphne behind.

“They’re already on the bus,” a voice says from over my shoulder. Glancing back, I see Logan.

My cheeks heat. I didn’t realize I had been so obvious.

“Dude, I’m an eagle shifter. I’m observant,” he murmurs.

I follow my teammates onto the bus, ducking my head out of habit. My eyes automatically find Miranda sitting with Daphne in the third row behind the driver. The seat across the row from her is open. It’s next to Colby Alvarez, a capybara shifter from Texas and our fourth-string left wing. I like Colby. He’s quiet, but he always has cookies or cupcakes from the Half-Cocked Bake Shop. It’s hard not to like a guy with a bakery box. It’s Carter and Brick between me and my goal. They’d understand getting mowed down. If there was enough room, I’d climb from seat to seat and avoid the aisle completely, but the seats are full and I’m too tall to maneuver like that.

Miranda looks up and the smile breaking across her face when she sees me has my hand uncontrollably reaching up to rub my chest over the heart that has kicked up in rhythm. When he sees Miranda’s smile, Carter looks back at me with a smirk and prepares to sit down next to Alvarez. He never sits with Alvarez. Carter is always in the back of the bus, never up front. In a flash, Miranda tosses her purse in the seat, startling Alvarez into choking on cookie crumbs.

---