Page 91 of Three Pucking Wedding Dates

“What if she never forgives me?” I choke out, the words barely comprehensible through my tears. “What if I lose everything?”

“Oakley, look at me.” Theo gently lifts my chin so that our eyes meet, his piercing blue gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that takes my breath away. “You are strong, and you will get through this. We both will. You’re not alone.”

His reassurance is a balm to my frayed nerves, and I allow myself to take solace in the warmth of his embrace. For several minutes, we stand there in silence, my sobs gradually subsiding as I lean into Theo’s comforting presence.

49

GRAY

The cold air of the rink bites at my cheeks as I skate alongside Reid, both of us pushing ourselves to our limits during this intense hockey practice. The sound of skates cutting through ice, the sharp crack of pucks against sticks, and the shouts of our coaches echo throughout the arena. Sweat drips down my face, but I’m more focused on perfecting our drills and plays than worrying about discomfort.

“Gray, pass it over!” Reid calls out, his green eyes shining with determination. I flick the puck toward him with practiced ease, watching as he expertly maneuvers around a mock opponent before taking a shot at the goal.

“Nice one!” I shout, giving him a nod of approval. He grins back at me, but just as we’re about to get back into position for the next drill, the heavy doors to the arena slam open with enough force to capture everyone’s attention.

“Are you kidding me?!” Iris’s voice rings out, her curly red hair a wild, fiery halo framing her angry face. The entire rink seems to hold its breath as she storms in, completely ignoring the coaches’ attempts to calm her down.

I can practically feel the heat radiating off Iris as she marches toward Reid and me, her hazel eyes ablaze with fury. Her voice cuts through the air like a knife, sharp and biting. “How could you guys go behind my back with my best friend? My own brothers…and you kept something like this from me?”

My heart drops into my stomach as I blink at her in shock, completely blindsided by her accusations. How did she find out? And how much, exactly, does she know? Confusion swirls within me, but before I can form a coherent question or response, Reid jumps in defensively.

“Whoa, hold on, Iris. What are you even talking about?” His voice is laced with confusion and concern, reflecting my own emotions.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Iris snaps, her hands on her hips as she glares at us. “You both know exactly what I’m talking about! And where’s Theo? I need to yell at him too.”

Reid and I exchange looks, knowing that it’s probably best not to mention that Theo is back in our hometown taking a dance class with Oakley right now. That wouldn’t exactly help this situation. I struggle to come up with an answer as the anger in Iris’s eyes only seems to intensify.

“Gray…” Reid mutters under his breath, a note of warning in his tone. It takes me a moment to realize what he’s trying to tell me—I’ve become so distracted by Iris’s unexpected confrontation that I’ve failed to notice the puck speeding toward me. But by the time I register his warning, it’s already too late.

The puck grazes my arm, and I wince at the sharp sting of pain. Luckily, it didn’t hit me full force, but it’s enough to remind methat we’re still on the ice, in the middle of practice, and not in any position to continue this argument.

“Gray, Reid,” Iris seethes, “I’ve already told Oakley she’s out of my life, and now I’m telling you. I don’t let people who supposedly care about me lie to me like this. How could you?”

“Look, Iris,” I begin, trying to steady my voice despite the lingering ache, “it’s not what you think?—”

“Save your excuses,” she snaps, cutting me off. “You’ve done enough damage.”

Reid, ever the peacemaker, shoots me a sideways glance before addressing Iris. “C’mon now, Iris, let’s not blow things out of proportion. It’s not like we were the ones who popped Oakley’s cherry,” he jokes, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of tension. The words leave a sour taste in my mouth—he went too far.

Iris’s eyes narrow dangerously, her anger reaching new heights. “You two disgust me,” she spits. I watch Iris’s face contort with fury. With one final glare in our direction, she raises her hand and flips us off, her gesture as clear as the ice beneath our feet. “I’m done with both of you,” she snarls, turning on her heel and storming toward the exit. The heavy doors slam shut behind her, leaving a resounding echo in their wake.

“Man, that was intense,” one of our teammates calls out, breaking the silence that has engulfed the rink. A few others chuckle, and suddenly, the tension that was suffocating me begins to dissipate as the team shifts into a lighter, teasing mode. They skate closer to Reid and me, their grins wide and eyes shining with mischief.

“Looks like someone needs to work on their lady skills!” another player teases us both, nudging me playfully with his shoulder. I force a small smile, trying not to let the sting of Iris’s words still lingering in my mind show on my face.

“Better luck next time, boys,” another chimes in, wagging his eyebrows suggestively at Reid before skating away, leaving us to nurse our bruised egos in peace.

The rink echoes with laughter and jeers, making it nearly impossible to ignore the relentless teasing from my teammates. They skate around us in circles, throwing playful jabs our way as Reid and I try to shake off the emotional turmoil caused by Iris’s confrontation.

“Hey, Archer brothers!” one player calls, smirking as he skates past. “Better watch out for flying pucks and angry women, huh?”

“Maybe they should start their own reality show,” another suggests, chuckling at his own joke. The snickers and taunts keep coming, each one a reminder of how exposed and vulnerable we are in this moment.

Reid rolls his eyes, but I can tell he’s trying not to let it get to him. He shoots me a glance, and I see the weight of Iris’s anger reflected in his green eyes. The teasing might be lighthearted, but its impact is far from trivial.

“Alright, enough!” Coach bellows, cutting through the laughter like a foghorn. We all snap to attention, turning to face him as he strides toward us. His expression is stern, disappointment etched into the lines of his face.

“Listen up, team,” he starts, hands on his hips. “We have a championship game coming up, and I expect all of you to focus on that instead of indulging in petty gossip.”

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