Page 33 of Pucking Never

Carson blinks at that, looking taken aback.

“Yeah, but still…” My brother trails off, still visibly befuddled.

Jensen chuckles and claps Carson on the shoulder. "Don’t overthink it, my guy. I was just trying to be nice.”

Carson shoots me a look, which I deflect with an innocent shrug.

“All right,” he murmurs with a slow nod. He seems more confused than suspicious. “Cool. I’m gonna go shower.”

Once he’s gone, Jensen turns back to me, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“That was fun,” he says nonchalantly, but I can hear the undercurrent of excitement in his voice. “So, will you wear it?”

I give him a pointed look. “Are you kidding? After that performance? I would be crazy not to.” It would only make Carson more suspicious if I showed up not wearing the jersey and I’d have to come up with some sort of excuse, and it would just get unnecessarily complicated from there.

His eyes light up at that and he smiles broadly. “I thought you might say that.”

I roll my eyes. “Aren’t you playing it a little fast and loose? Carson’s going to get suspicious if you keep doing this kind of thing.”

Jensen just shrugs, his grin not wavering in the slightest.

“He’s bound to eventually find out how crazy about you I am, anyway. Might as well have fun with it in the meantime.”

I blink and stare at him for a long moment before I finally manage to squeak out, “Oh, well… we, uh, still need to be careful. If he finds out before we have a chance to tell him, he’ll be so angry.”

“Don’t worry,” he assures me, his expression softening. “I know we need to be careful. It’s just a jersey.”

I sigh and shake my head, but before I can say anything in response, he reaches out and tugs gently at the bag slung over my shoulder. "Besides," he adds in a softer tone, "you look good in my colors."

"Don’t you mean my brother’s colors?" I tease.

"Doesn't matter." His eyes sparkle with mischief. "I know you'll rock it."

As much as I hate to admit it, I feel a little flutter in my stomach at his words. "All right, well..." I say, adjusting the bag on my shoulder and making a move towards the exit. "I'll see you tomorrow. At the game."

I don’t tell him that I’ll be staying in the same hotel as the team. Carson insisted, not wanting me to travel home by myself after the game. He’s arranged the entire trip for me as part of his entourage, and while I technically can’t actually go with the team, my protective brother wants to keep me close.

Jensen blinks at that and then smiles broadly again. "Looking forward to it," he replies.

I turn to leave, but he reaches out and wraps his hand around my wrist, tugging me back to him. Before I realize what is happening, he cups the side of my face and pulls me in for a deep kiss. I gasp, my lips parting and he takes the opportunity to sweep his tongue inside to tangle with mine. Just as I begin to melt against him, he pulls back and gazes down at me with a grin.

“If I didn’t have to be ready so early in the morning, I’d drag you home right now and fuck you senseless,” he murmurs before letting me go.

Breathless, I stare up at him a moment before turning and hurrying down the hall. As I walk away, I can feel his gaze on me but I don't look back. I never expected things to go this far. I never expected Jensen to try so hard to prove to me that he was different from the other hockey guys I knew growing up. This wasn’t supposed to be so serious or so intense, but it now is all starting to feel dangerously real.

As the teams skate out onto the ice, I’m acutely aware of the fact that I’m wearing Jensen’s jersey. I feel self-conscious, especially when a group of girls in the stands below me wearing Night Hawk jerseys start screaming and losing their minds when Jensen’s name is announced. My stomach twists and I feel a pang deep in my belly thinking of all the women that must throw themselves at him. Regardless of the irrational jealousy running through me, Jensen has never given me a reason to doubt his intentions. Wearing his jersey only helps solidify this new feeling that I’m completely not used to — the feeling of being his. Shaking my head, I force the thoughts aside and try to focus as the game begins.

Sadly, the game is a disaster. I’m not sure how it happens. One moment, the Night Hawks are cutting across the ice, in absolute control of the game, and the next, it becomes utter chaos. From the first whistle onward, the battle between both teams is painful to watch. The Night Hawks fight tooth and nail for possession, bodies crashing against the boards in pursuit of the puck. Every inch of ice is contested fiercely, neither side willing to give an inch.

Despite their efforts, the Night Hawks find themselves trailing by a goal early on. The opposing team's offense is relentless, firing shots at the Night Hawks' net with precision, and Carson is struggling to keep up. He makes some incredible saves, but the pressure is relentless.

As the game wears on, tensions boil over, and the physicality escalates. Checks become more aggressive, and players exchange heated words as they jostle for position. The referees struggle to maintain control as penalties pile up on both sides. I can tell that Jensen is growing increasingly frustrated as the game goes on, and it seems like only a matter of time before things boil over.

Eventually, that’s exactly what happens. It starts with a shove, after a particularly aggressive check along the boards between Jensen and an opposing player. Words are exchanged, and tempers flare as they begin pushing each other. The crowd erupts, sensing the impending clash.

They’re soon dropping their gloves and clenching their fists. Jensen and his opponent circle each other, then, in a blur of motion, they collide, fists flying in a flurry of punches. Each blow seems to echo through the arena and are met with a chorus of cheers and gasps from the crowd.

The referees rush in, trying to separate the two players, but the men seem determined to kill each other. Both teams join in to try and pull the two apart. It takes several moments of frantic struggle before they’re finally separated, both players breathing heavily, faces streaked with sweat and blood.

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