Page 48 of Pucking my Enemy Boss

With a quick signal, one of the staff heads off to fetch Ethan, who, moments later, arrives with his usual cool expression inplace. He steps up, looking like he’s got ice in his veins and not a single care in the world.

“Everything good here?” Ethan’s voice cuts through the tension, and for a moment, I’m relieved. He’s here, ready to back me up. Until I remember that we’re dealing with Raymond Blue, who’s never just asking for an innocent interview.

“Mr. Carter! Good to see you,” Raymond Blue greets him with that overly-friendly tone that sets my teeth on edge. “Just wanted to confirm that you’re participating today. Fans are curious, since you don’t typically attend events like these.”

Ethan shrugs, hands in his pockets, looking as nonchalant as ever. “Yeah, I’m here. It’s been fun. Great to connect with the community.” His words are smooth, but there’s an edge to his tone that tells me he’s not thrilled about this little interrogation.

“So, you’re saying you enjoy these events?” Raymond presses on, like a bloodhound who’s just caught a scent. “Even though, traditionally, you’ve stayed away from them?”

Ethan’s jaw tightens, and I can practically feel the tension rolling off him in waves. “Yeah. It’s good for the team. For the fans.”

Mr. Blue smiles in a creepyI’ve got you where I want you,way. “Interesting. Because there’s been some speculation that you’re not the biggest fan of the holiday season. In fact, there are rumors that you ...hate Christmas.”

And there it is. The bomb, dropped right in the middle of our Christmas tree wonderland.

My eyes fly to Ethan. He freezes. There’s a tightness to his jaw, the kind that saysget me out of here.

The air around us seems to thicken, and for a split second, I can see the cool mask slipping. His eyes darken, and I know—this is not a question he wants to answer.

Before he can even think about responding, I step forward, cutting in. “That’s enough,” my voice sharp, leaving no room fordebate. “Ethan’s here, and he’s been fully involved in today’s event. Whatever rumors you’ve heard are just that, rumors, and we’re not here for that today.”

Raymond Blue’s eyes flick between me and Ethan, clearly enjoying the tension he’s just created. “Well, it’s good to hear Ethan’s in the holiday spirit. I’m sure the fans will appreciate knowing that.”

“We’re done here,” I announce, making it crystal clear that this interview is over.

Ethan doesn’t stick around for the aftermath. He walks away, shoulders stiff, and I can practically feel the anger radiating off him. Watching him leave, a pit forms in my stomach. This was supposed to be a good day. Now it feels like everything’s unraveling.

As the reporters disperse, I turn to head back to the rink, hoping to catch up with Ethan and maybe—just maybe—try to fix this. But before I can make my escape, Raymond steps up next to me, his voice low, accompanied by a slow, smug grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Always good to see players getting into the holiday spirit. But, Miss Bennett, do you really know the man you’re defending?”

There’s something in his tone that sends a shiver down my spine. I cross my arms, standing my ground. “I know him more than some reporter looking for clickbait.”

Mr. Blue chuckles, that same oily laugh that makes skin crawl. “We’ll see about that.” He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a manila folder like some cartoon villain unveiling his evil plan. “You might want to read these.”

He hands over a heavy folder and his smile widens as if he’s just delivered a death blow.

“You might find it ... enlightening,” he says, stepping closer, voice lowering. “People aren’t always who they seem.”

For a moment, the world feels off-balance, like the ground is shifting beneath my feet. But there’s no way I’m letting him see that. The folder gets clutched tighter, but the response is calm. “I trust Ethan a hell of a lot more than I trust someone like you.”

Blue’s smile wavers, just for a second, but it’s back in place by the time he turns to leave. “Enjoy your event, Miss Bennett. I’m sure it’ll be ... memorable.”

As he saunters off, I stand frozen, the folder clutched in my hands. The stadium around is still buzzing with laughter, Christmas cheer, and fan excitement, but it feels far away now. Ethan’s already disappeared into the chaos, and a gnawing sense of unease settles in the pit of my stomach.

The folder remains unopened. There’s no rush to read it. Not yet.

Whatever’s in there, it can wait. Because right now? The only thing that matters is getting through the rest of this event with my head held high. And, more importantly, figuring out what the hell to do about Ethan.

15

ETHAN

Back at the house,everything feels off. The air’s too thick, like the walls themselves are waiting to cave in, and the quiet hum of the fridge in the kitchen is suddenly the loudest thing in the world. The tree decorating event plays on repeat in my head, especially the part where I bolted like some rookie afraid of a penalty shot. Smooth, Carter. Real smooth.

Ryan and Liam’s texts pop up on the phone, in a group chat for us trio—both practically vibrating with concern.

Ryan: Dude, you good?

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