Page 10 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

I glance over and catch what might be the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips, or maybe that’s wishful thinking. I turn to get a better look, but it's already vanished.

"What?" I dare to ask.

She stiffens slightly. "I’m not coming to any hockey games. You just shouldn't say things like that and act all casual about this. There will be nothing between us. I’ve literally never seen you before."

I let out a dry laugh, releasing the tension. She has no idea, does she? I lean over and say, "You fucked the wrong brother."

The words hang in the air between us. Her spine straightens as she fixes her gaze on the road ahead. I sense her withdrawal, like she's just realized I might be dangerous in ways she hasn't considered. And maybe I am, because even though it's been less than an hour since this nightmare began, when I look at her, I feel something shift inside me. She's not just striking and sexy—there's an authenticity to her that cuts through all my defenses. I'm tired of the petty, jealous, insecure girls who cycle through my bed, never leaving any lasting impression. Hannah, this girl right here, is different. I can feel it just being in her presence.

"You shouldn't say things like that," she whispers. "It's very—"

"It's honest, Hannah," I say, glancing at her again.

We drive the rest of the way in silence. When we reach her dorm, I pull into a parking space.

"What're you doing?" she asks, suspicion coloring her voice.

"Walking you up."

I get out before she can protest, but she's already climbing out of the car. "I don't need you to walk me up."

I lock my car. "You lead the way."

She scoffs, cutting across the parking lot. I walk beside her, watching for any signs of trouble. It's well past midnight, so the campus is empty.

She wraps her arms around herself against the cool night air. I pull off my jacket and drape it around her shoulders. She immediately shrugs it off, throwing it back at me.

"We're not doing this," she says firmly.

The challenge in her eyes makes something inside me stir, but I see the conviction there too. This is a woman who knows her own mind, who sets boundaries and means them. I need to respect that.

When we reach the entrance to her building, she turns to me. "You can't walk me to my door. They won't let you in this late."

I nod, understanding. "Okay then."

"Okay then," she echoes, a hint of mockery in her tone.

"Hannah," I call as she turns away, wishing she would hug me again. "239-5728."

She glares at me.

"239-5728," I repeat, committing my number to her memory whether she wants it or not.

She walks away without another word, and I watch until she disappears inside, the glass doors closing behind her.

I run my fingers through my hair and look up at the rows of windows, wondering which one is hers. I turn to leave, heading back to my car.

And now I wait to see if she’ll reach out.

I get the feeling she won’t be that easy.

Chapter 5

239-5728.

239-5728.

I pull out my phone and selectnew contactand enter in the phone number. As for his name? Well, I put a hockey puck and then the word head right after.

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