Page 40 of Pucking Secret

The warmth of the old-fashioned burns my chest. I stare at the polished surface of the table. Jayce is waiting, patient and quiet, like he knows I need the silence to gather my thoughts.

“He’s got this way of making everything about himself,” I continue. “I’m a tool to him. A walking PR machine he can use to bolster his image and his influence over the family company. And I go along with it for my mom’s sake. She’s…” I pause and gaze off across the bar as I swallow back the frustration bubbling up within me. “Well, she’s stuck in the middle of it all, you know?”

Jayce nods, his brows furrowing. He appears thoughtful as he takes a drink.

Setting his glass back down, he says, “I get it. My family’s all about big deals, bigger egos. My parents are always putting pressure on me, one way or another. Whether it’s about making appearances at events or being the ‘good son’ who keeps the family legacy intact. And hockey…” He lets out a dry chuckle. “They think I’m wasting my potential chasing a puck.”

I shake my head, laughing under my breath. “My stepdad’s got opinions on everything I do. How I talk in interviews, whatI wear, even who I should be seen with. My life is just another extension of his brand.”

Jayce leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Yeah, that’s the thing, right? You work your ass off to build something for yourself, but they always find a way to make it about them. That’s why I’ve never gone for anything more than the basics when it comes to publicity. Some of the guys—like Carson—they’ve taken off in popularity, especially with Grace running the social media stuff, but I’ve got no interest in becoming a brand. The game’s enough for me. I value my privacy too much to give it all away for the sake of likes and clicks.”

“Exactly,” I say, meeting his gaze. “I don’t need the circus. I just try to stay neutral. My stepdad does enough spinning for both of us. The ice is where I can just… be. Everything else is noise.”

Jayce swirls the last of his drink in the glass as he studies me. The conversation has been easy so far. We really connect.

But when he shifts the topic, my defenses snap back into place.

“So,” Jayce says,“what’s with you and Stacey?”

I stiffen.“Huh?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Relax, man. I’m not trying to pry. It’s just obvious you two have something going on. You’ve got this way of looking at her. I saw it the other day at the rink.”

Fuck. I hadn’t realized I was that transparent.

“We went to school together,” I say finally, trying to sound nonchalant.

Jayce raises an eyebrow. “I knew that already, dude. Clearly there’s more to it than that.”

I take a slow sip of my drink, debating whether to say more, but for some reason, maybe because of the way he’s been real with me all night, I find myself talking.

“I loved her,” I admit quietly, staring at the amber liquid in my glass. “I wanted to spend my life with her. Back then, it was simple. I knew exactly what I wanted, and it was her. She was it. Sheisit.”

Jayce doesn’t interrupt, letting me keep going.

“But then my mom suddenly announced she got married again and my new stepdad decided we were moving to Canada, and I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye. One day I was with her, and the next, he had my entire life packed up and put on a plane. I fought him on it. But it didn’t matter. He always gets what he wants.”

I rub the back of my neck, the memory still sharp. “I tried to stay in touch. Wrote her a letter that she never responded to. Tried to call her, but she changed her number. I knew I’d fucked up, but when I couldn’t contact her… I guess I just gave up.”

Saying the words out loud makes my stomach churn with disgust. I should’ve tried harder to find her. I was so blindsided by the move and mom’s marriage… I didn’t feel like I had any say in my own life. No power to change things or resist what all was happening around and to me. As a result, I just let her go, and I’ve regretted it every day since.

Jayce shakes his head, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. “Family screws with your head, huh?”

I nod, glad for the empathy but still feeling raw after spilling my guts and realizing how much of a pussy I really was back then.

He finishes off his drink before continuing, “People think it’s all trust funds and luxury vacations, but coming from money is suffocating too. The traditions, the expectations, the constant need to keep up appearances…”

I glance at him, surprised by his candor. Jayce always comes off as so easygoing, the guy who doesn’t have a care in the world, but that’s not him on the inside. We really are scarily similar.

Jayce chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Sometimes I just want to blow the whole thing up, you know? Walk away and start over.”

I don’t say anything because, yeah, I do know.

The weight of the conversation lingers, but then Jayce grins, a mischievous glint slipping into his eyes. “But enough about family drama. How about a different kind of distraction?” He sets his glass down. “Follow me.”

He leads me through the bar and toward a set of unmarked doors. He pushes one open, revealing a hallway that’s dimly lit and lined with plush carpet. There are more doors along the corridor, each one numbered, with a low light hanging off the top of each doorframe. Some are turned on, but others are dark.

“What is this?” I ask.

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