Page 39 of Pucking Secret

Her eyelids are fluttering shut, but I can tell she’s fighting not to fall asleep yet.

“I really like him,” she mumbles. “I had a lot of fun skating with him. I think he’s my favorite player on the team. When do I get to see him again?”

My heart aches and guilt swirls through me as she speaks. Skyler and Grace are right. I need to talk to Owen.

“I don’t know, baby.” I hug her close. “Hopefully soon.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE CLUB

OWEN

The bar Jaycetakes me to is a far cry from The Night Hawk. It’s sleek and upscale, with polished wood accents and soft ambient lighting. A jazz trio plays in the corner, and the patrons are all dressed like they just stepped out of a fashion magazine.

Right away, I know this won’t be able to distract me from thoughts of Stacey. Not after our kiss. Walking through this place, I’m imagining bringing her here and kissing her again in one of the shadowy booths. Kissing her and letting my hands drift down the front of her dress, pulling up her skirt, and sliding my fingers between her legs.

Jayce leads me to a table near the back. He gestures for the server, ordering us each an old-fashioned without asking what I want.

I raise an eyebrow. “Confident choice.”

“You seem like an old-fashioned kinda guy,” he replies with a grin. “Call it a hunch.”

As we wait for our drinks, my phone buzzes. Dread twists in my stomach when I see it’s a message from Elise.

Elise: Owen! What’s going on? You haven’t talked to Gerald about the engagement yet? I thought you were going to convince him to call it off.

Sighing, I shoot her a quick reply. I’m not in the headspace to deal with this right now.

Owen: I’m taking care of it. Don’t worry.

Elise: All I can do is worry!

Owen: Just trust me!

I tuck my phone away with a huff and Jayce arches his brow at me.

“You good?” he asks.

I wave my hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Just…family stuff.”

He gives me a nod and a knowing look. “Gotcha. Say no more.”

The drinks arrive quickly, and we settle in. Jayce leans back in his chair, looking completely at ease, like this kind of place is second nature to him. It probably is.

We make small talk for a while—how Denver compares to other cities we’ve played in, the team’s dynamic, our season opener coming up next week, and so on—but I can tell Jayce has something else on his mind. Finally, he sets his glass down and leans forward, resting his forearms on the table.

“You know, we talked before about both of us coming from… let’s sayprivilegedbackgrounds.”

I nod, unsure where he’s going with this.

“So I get,” he continues, his tone more serious now, “how tricky it can be navigating what you want for yourself versus what your family expects.”

The statement catches me off guard.

“I’m not trying to pry,” he adds quickly, seeing my expression. “I just have a feeling the ‘good boy’ persona you put on for the public isn’t the whole story.”

I raise my glass to my lips, taking a long sip to buy time. He’s not wrong, but admitting that feels... vulnerable. I’m not entirely sure I’m ready to go there, even with someone who seems to understand.

“I guess you could say there’s a lot of pressure to present myself a certain way,” I say finally, choosing my words carefully. “My stepdad’s big on appearances. Everything I do has to reflect well on the family.”

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