Bad Boys Don't Stay (Bad Boys Don't Die Book 2) by BB Easton

Author:BB Easton [Easton, BB]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance
Publisher: Art by Easton
Published: 2023-10-04T16:00:00+00:00

It turns out that hockey is just soccer with sticks, and I played church-league soccer until middle school—when I realized that church-league soccer wasn’t cool. Of course, when I played, we used an actual ball and goals with nets, not a jagged piece of broken plate and sticks fashioned from wooden pallets, but otherwise, it’s not really that different. Plus, Brangelina and I kinda make a perfect team. I hang back and play goalie while they run around Carter like tornadoes with ADHD. Poor guy is pretty much on his own out there. Tiny Tim’s approach to goalkeeping consists of talking shit while moving as little as possible, and Loudmouth’s main priority is strictly defense. As in, defending himself against having to interact with the puck by all means necessary.

Carter pulls his signature basketball spin move to evade Not Brad, but I block his breakaway shot with the side of my foot. I have to use the side of my foot because the stick I’m using is just two splintery pieces of pallet nailed together, and it wouldn’t stop a marble. When nobody calls me on it, I raise my worthless stick in the air triumphantly.

“Boom!” I shout at Carter, but my gloating is cut short when the top half of my homemade stick swings down and practically chops my fingers off. “Ahh!” I drop my stick and grab my hand, holding it as I bounce in place and hiss through my teeth.

“High-sticking!” Tiny Tim shouts, pointing at me like a suspect in a police lineup. “High-sticking!”

“What the hell is high-sticking?”

“High-sticking is when a player is struck by a stick that has been raised above waist-level,” Loudmouth quietly recites to himself while staring at the ground.

“But I hurt myself!”

Carter smirks. “Sorry, babe. Rules are rules. You gotta go to the penalty box.”

“Penalty box?” I swing my head from side to side. “What penalty box?”

Tiny Tim points to the mildewed cardboard box I noticed when we first walked in and grins through his grimy beard.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Go on, princess.” He chuckles, waving me off. “Two minutes for high-sticking. Do your time like a man.”

I stick my tongue out at him as I stomp over to the soggy cube of cardboard. Loudmouth follows me with his head down, and once I’m sitting inside with my knees pulled to my chest, he adds the final touch.

He picks up the toilet seat lying on the ground next to the box, and just before the quiet little accordion player slips it over my head like a statement necklace, I notice that someone has scrawled the word PENULTEE on it in black permanent marker.

I glare at him, but it’s pointless. His eyes are on the floor, and he’s already halfway back to his safe little corner of the store.

The guys howl with laughter, and my pout lasts all of five seconds before I’m laughing right along with them.

“What’s so funny?” a feline voice purrs from the entryway.

My head swivels to the left

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