Page 24 of Secret Pucking Unicorn

We get home right before dawn. The overtime loss to the Colorado Cryptids was gutting. We don’t have any games scheduled until after New Year’s, so we have a few days off. Since we have a rink downstairs, we’ll still skate. Our teammates drop in a lot to use the rink downstairs too. It’s easier to come out here if they live on the mainland than drive out to Atlantic City to practice on the ice at The Nest. The rink here is a synthetic surface Carter’s chemical engineer mother invented years ago—not actual ice, but it’s great.

Carter is sitting at the kitchen counter when I leave my bedroom mid-morning.

“Good morning,” I mumble.

He raises his coffee mug in salute and continues watching a video on his laptop. A glance shows it’s a cheerleading video. He helps Kendall with her cheer team that uses the gym space downstairs. Maybe he’s researching a new stunt.

Brick pokes her head through our open apartment door. “Hey guys. I’m making banana bread. Any you want to contribute to the cause?”

I pull our fruit bowl down from the top of the fridge and hand her two ripe candidates. I leave the bowl on the counter. We will have to find a new place for it. Miranda isn’t over six feet tall like Carter and I are. She shouldn’t have to climb a step stool to get an apple.

“And Stone is making French toast,” Brick says. “Do you want some?”

“He forgot to put the bread in the freezer?” Carter asks.

If one of us forgets to put a loaf of bread in the freezer before we leave for a road trip, our tradition is to make a giant batch of French toast to use it up. Knowing how much Stone loves French toast, I bet he left the bread out on purpose to have the excuse and the slightly stale bread to make a batch.

“Yep.”

“We have bacon,” I say as I open the refrigerator to pull out a pack.

“Does Randi like French toast?” Brick asks.

“Yeah, with cinnamon on top.” I fill the electric kettle to start my tea.

Carter’s narrowed eyes follow me as I put the kettle on the base I keep on the counter and flip the switch to start it heating.

“How do you know?” he asks.

My eyebrows inch toward my hairline. “I’ve known Miranda her entire life. We’ve had hundreds of breakfasts together. What aren’t you understanding about this?”

“As kids. Maybe she doesn’t like it now.”

“It’s what she cooks us for breakfast,” I say. What is his problem?

“When has she cooked you breakfast? She hates cooking.”

Brick is watching us avidly. She probably wishes she had a bag of popcorn to snack on.

Stone walks in. “Are you guys having breakfast with us?”

Brick slaps him in the chest with the pack of bacon. “They are. Here’s some bacon.”

“What’s going on?” he asks in a whisper.

“They’re getting territorial,” she whispers back, but Brick is not a soft-spoken woman. What she thinks is whispering is a normal speaking voice for anyone else.

“Over Randi?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it a wolf thing?” Stone asks.

I look over at them.

Brick rolls her eyes. “No, it’s a man thing.”

Miranda wanders out from her bedroom looking adorably sleep rumpled. She yawns and rubs her eye.

---