Page 48 of Snowed In With the PUCK

Jason stands, straightening his jacket before glancing back at me. “I know you don’t like it, Jess. But it’s part of the job. Do what you have to do. Keep your emotions out of it.”

He turns and walks away before I can say anything else, leaving me sitting there, feeling like the floor has been ripped out from under me. I hate this. I hate the position I’m in. I hate that Kip and Jason have put me in this impossible situation, forcing me to choose between my career and my relationship with Eric.

I swallow hard, trying to push down the guilt that’s rising up in my throat. When I agreed to go along with this whole fake relationship idea, I never thought it would come to this. I never thought I’d be sitting here, torn between doing my job and protecting someone I care about.

But I know one thing. I’m not spying on Eric. Jason’s wrong. They can’t force me to do that. So, I won’t.

Eric finishes with the last of the kids and skates toward me, a grin still on his face as he pulls off his helmet. “Hey, you ready to go?”

I force a smile, nodding as I stand up. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

Minutes later, as we walk out of the arena and head back to the car, I can feel the weight of what Jason said pressing down on me. I should tell Eric. I should come clean and tell him everything—that Kip and Jason have been pressuring me to spy on him, that they don’t trust him to stay with the Avalanche, that they’re using me to keep tabs on him.

But I can’t. Not right now. Things are good between us, and the last thing I want to do is ruin that. I don’t want him to feel betrayed. I don’t want him to think I’ve been using him.

So, instead, I stay quiet. I shove the guilt down as far as it will go and pretend like everything’s fine.

In the car, the silence between us is comfortable, but my thoughts are anything but. I glance over at Eric, watching as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel, humming along to the Christmas music playing softly on the radio. He looks so relaxed, so happy, and it only makes the guilt weigh heavier on me.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks suddenly, his eyes flicking over to me.

I blink, startled. “Oh, nothing. Just… today was nice.”

He nods, smiling. “Yeah, it was. Those kids were great, weren’t they?”

“They were,” I agree, my voice softer than I intend. I watch him for a moment, taking in the way his face softens when he talks about the kids, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. He’s so much more than I ever expected him to be. He’s kind and funny and genuine, and the thought of betraying him in any way makes me feel sick.

When we pull into the driveway of the house, the familiar warmth of the Stanton home greets us, the Christmas lights twinkling in the early evening light. Eric parks the car, and we head inside, the cozy smell of pine and cookies wrapping around us like a blanket.

For a moment, I allow myself to forget about Jason, Kip, and everything else weighing on my mind. I let myself get lost in the warmth of the house, in the companionship that Eric and I share.

We settle onto the couch together, and Eric flips on a Christmas movie, his arm draped casually around my shoulders. I lean into him, letting myself relax into his warmth, trying to push all the doubts and guilt aside.

But even as we sit there, laughing at the cheesy jokes on the screen, I can’t shake the nagging feeling in the back of my mind. What if Eric knew? What if he knew that Jason and Kip were pressuring me to spy on him? Would he feel betrayed? Or would he understand that I never wanted to be put in this position?

I close my eyes, trying to will the thoughts away, but they cling to me like a shadow I can’t escape. For now, I’ll keep the truth to myself. I don’t want to ruin what we have.

But I know, deep down, that this secret won’t stay buried forever. And when the time comes to tell him, I just hope it won’t be too late.

Chapter twenty-three

Eric

The moment I stepoff the plane, I can feel the weight of the last two days settling into my bones. Two back-to-back away games right after Christmas, a brutal schedule, and now I’m barely back in Denver before heading straight to the arena for practice. Every muscle in my body screams for rest, but there’s no time for that. Not when the team needs me out on the ice, and not when I have to keep up appearances, both for my career and the public image I’ve suddenly found myself tangled in.

Jessica’s been amazing through all of this. More than I deserve, probably. I think about her constantly, and maybe that’s part of the problem—my head’s been in the clouds, split between the pressure of being the Avalanche’s star forward and trying to keep our relationship from feeling like a show for everyone else. It's getting more and more real and I can't help the excitement I feel in the pit of my stomach. I think they call these butterflies.

As soon as I walk into the arena’s locker room, the tension hits me. The other guys are already suiting up, and I can tell from the tired looks on their faces that I’m not the only one feeling the drain. Nobody wants to be here. But we’re professionals, and we don’t get days off just because we’re worn down.

I drop my bag on the floor and start changing into my gear, zoning out to the familiar sounds of lockers clanging and blades being sharpened. It’s mindless work at this point, like muscle memory. I barely register Ivan walking by until I hear his voice sharp with humor.

“Hey Gator,” Ivan says, smirking as he laces up his skates. “How’s it feel knowing Jessica’s waiting for you at home? Is it a queen bed or a king, dude? Must be hard to focus, huh?”

I pause, the words sinking in before I even look up. It’s a joke, I know it’s a joke, but it grates on me in a way it shouldn’t. Ivan doesn’t mean anything by it—he’s just being Ivan—but something about it pisses me off. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the constant pressure of everything that’s been happening. Or maybe I’m just tired of everyone acting like Jessica’s some trophy I get to take home after a game.

“Shut up, Ivan,” I mutter, not even looking at him.

He laughs, loud enough that a couple of the other guys glance our way. “Come on, man. You know I’m just messing with you. Must be nice, though. Pretty girl like that, waiting on you after a long day.”

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