Page 12 of Pucking Secret

I shoot a glare at Gerald before saying, “She is, Mom. She really is.”

I’m not going to have this argument with Gerald in front of her. It will only upset her, and she’s already on edge because of my upcoming move. It doesn’t surprise me that she believes the engagement is real because she believes everything Gerald tells her. Some days, I simply don’t understand how she can just go along with every little thing Gerald dictates. I think she’s afraid of losing this comfortable life and going back to struggling day-to-day to survive like we were doing after dad died. Even when he was alive, we were far from wealthy, but we were happy.

When was the last time she was genuinely happy? When was the last time I was happy, for that matter?

A little voice inside my head says it truthfully.When you were with Stacey.

I try to ignore the voice and the way it makes my heart clench with instant longing.

Faced with both Gerald and my mom, I know I’m not going to succeed at changing their minds about this. Whether they like it or not, this marriage is not happening, but I need to be more tactful with how I handle this.

Shoving my phone into my pocket, I let out a frustrated breath, “I need to go. I’ll talk to you later, Mom.”

Turning, I storm toward the front door.

“Owen!” my mom exclaims. “Hold on?—”

Guilt hits me at the sounds of her voice and I nearly stop, but Gerald cuts her off in a firm tone.

“Let him go, darling. You know how busy he is.”

Clenching my hands into fists at my sides, I continue out of the house and toward my car, which is parked in the circle driveway in front of the house. Gerald is such a condescending prick. He thinks he can control my entire future? He’s got another thing coming.

What neither of them know is that I’m not planning on staying in Denver for only a year. Once I leave Vancouver, I’m not coming back.

CHAPTER FIVE: HIGH SCHOOL REUNION

OWEN

ONE MONTH LATER

Strollingdown the corridor toward the locker room, my heart pumps with excitement and relief. I’ve been looking forward to this day ever since I signed with the Night Hawks. It’s a chance for a fresh start with a new team in a new city. Here in Denver, I won’t have to face the same pressures that I did back home. I’ll be able to play the game I love and focus on what matters to me… and no one else.

No Gerald. No Weston name weighing me down. No forced engagements to deal with.

Still, I’m nervous. I’m escaping my suffocating future as a Weston, but I inadvertently stumbled back into my past. When I found out that Carson Monroe was on the Night Hawks, I hesitated to accept their offer for the trade. It’s not that I don’t want to see Carson… I do. We were really good friends in high school, and I’ve genuinely missed him. It’s all the baggage that comes with him that I’m nervous about. After everything that happened, and how I had to leave, a part of me didn't want to revisit the past and those memories… while another part, amuch bigger part, has been pulling me back to those memories ever since I left.

Shaking my head, I push away the unwelcome thoughts dancing on the edge of my mind, trying to steal my focus. As I draw near the doors to the locker room, I hear voices inside and wince. I’d already missed morning conditioning because I had an appointment with my lawyer to make sure everything with my work visa is together. Even with dual citizenship, I have to jump through all these fucking hoops just to play the game I love. I hadn’t wanted to be late, but I underestimated how long my appointment would take. This is not the first impression I was hoping to make.

I walk inside and freeze as all eyes immediately turn to me.

Oh, shit.

Coach Sullivan turns and meets my gaze. I’ve only seen him in video calls so far as we worked through my trade details, and he’s much bigger in person. He’s a broad guy with dark eyes and stern features. Even though he’s in his sixties, he still looks like he could tear it up on the ice while hardly breaking a sweat. Definitely intimidating. He’s standing in front of the team, and I’ve clearly interrupted some talk he’s been giving.

I tense, half-expecting him to rip into me right here—my old coach was a real asshole when it came to being late—but to my surprise and relief, he nods.

“Perfect timing,” he declares, turning his gaze to the other guys gathered in front of him. “Boys, say hello to Owen Scott, your new teammate. He’s fresh from playing up in Canada, where he’s got quite the winning record under his belt. We’ve had to keep his identity a bit of a secret while we waited for him to be released from his former team, as he’s been under RFA. Now, he’s all ours, so make him feel welcome, got it?”

That sounded way more threatening than encouraging, but I appreciate Coach having my back right out of the gate.

Apparently, that’s the end of the meeting. Coach turns and walks out of the locker room. Once he’s gone, the guys disperse and finish getting their gear on to go out onto the ice.

“Owen Scott? Holy shit! Is that really you?” A familiar figure breaks away from the group and rushes toward me. It takes me a moment to recognize Carson. He’s much bigger now than he was in high school, but those bright blue eyes are hard to forget. Seeing Carson in the flesh after all these years is a shock.

“Carson!” I say, genuinely thrilled by his clear excitement. “Long time.”

We hug—and it’s a total bro hug, complete with back pounding.

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