20. Jessica
Chapter twenty
Jessica
I t’s the afternoon of Christmas Eve, and the Avalanche law office is a strange blend of holiday cheer and underlying tension. There’s a Christmas tree in the corner, lights twinkling between professionally wrapped gifts that have clearly been sent in by clients. Cookies, some Christmas-themed sparkling juice, and other festive decor fill the space, making it look like any other office holiday party.
Except this one is different. This one feels like a weight sitting on my chest, suffocating the warmth out of the holidays.
I take a sip of the sparkling juice, holding the cup just long enough to avoid making eye contact with anyone. My boss, Jason, stands at the other side of the room, watching me with an expression that makes me feel like I’m one wrong move away from being called into a disciplinary meeting.
He finally makes his way over, a stiff smile on his face. “Jessica, I know this is not the best time, and I know you and Eric are going through… something.”
I look anywhere but at him. Obviously, Allison has revealed Eric’s little crisis from their private conversation that sent the media racing around with photos of the two of them. His crisis about our fake dating. Heck, it was my crisis too; I just didn’t go blabbing about it the way he did. I press my lips together. I’m not mad at him deep down. I’m hurt. I can’t let myself feel that so I go for anger instead.
“It’s the holidays and people will expect something from the two of you on social media. Unfortunately, we do need to talk about Eric.”
Here we go again.
I set my cup down, bracing myself for the conversation I’ve been avoiding. “What about him?”
Jason gives a short laugh, but there’s nothing funny about it. “What about him? The media is eating this up, Jess. The whole thing with Allison blew over fast, but the rumors about you two ending things? They’re swirling. You have to convince Eric to continue the facade.”
I stare at him, resisting the urge to narrow my eyes accusingly. “I told you before, Jason. I’m not sure that’s something I want to do or even could do, if I wanted.”
His smile fades, and his voice hardens. “It’s not about what you want, Jessica. This is your job. We both answer to the Avalanche. To Kip. You’re a part of this organization, and we need you to play your part. Eric is a huge asset to the Avalanche. His image matters, and so does this charade. He’s been performing well on the ice, and we don’t want him distracted.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to keep quiet while he continues.
“There’s even talk about a California team trying to poach him. Has he said anything?”
I shake my head, surprised to hear this.
“You know what that means for us, right? He hasn’t signed his trade deal yet, and we need to ensure his commitment to Colorado.” Jason’s eyes widen slightly. “We can’t afford to lose him. You need to keep him close, Jessica. Whatever it takes.”
My stomach clenches. Spying on Eric? Again? I’ve done enough of that to last a lifetime, and it’s not something I’m proud of. Thankfully, my version of “spying” was just listening to him and not uncovering anything of importance to the Avalanche.
“I’m not going to spy on him,” I say firmly, trying not to scowl.
Jason’s brows knit together in frustration. “Jessica, this isn’t a negotiation.”
“Yes, it is. And I’m not doing it.” My voice is calm, but inside I’m boiling. “I’ve done everything you asked of me so far, but this? It crosses a line. And I doubt very seriously that he’s going to leave Colorado to run off to the Cali team. Honestly, Jason.”
But still, my heart clenches. Would Eric abandon me, abandon the team, like that?
Jason stares at me, and I can see the anger rising behind his eyes. For a moment, I expect him to snap, but instead, he takes a step back, running a hand through his slicked-back hair. “Fine,” he says slowly. “But remember, Jessica, this is a team effort. We can’t afford to have you getting sentimental about this.”
“I’m not sentimental,” I lie, though even I can hear the weakness in my voice.
He gives me a cold, knowing smile. “Good. Then keep it that way.”
The conversation leaves a bitter taste in my mouth as I make my way out of the office, leaving the holiday party behind. I’m not in the mood to stick around and pretend like everything’s fine. I’ve been pretending for long enough.
It’s a relief to step outside into the crisp Denver air. The cold feels like a wake-up call, the kind that reminds you of what’s real and what’s not. I have bigger things to focus on, like the community center’s Christmas Eve event that I promised to attend. It’s become a tradition for the community. Kathy and Laura invited me to join them, and despite everything going on in my head, I’m glad for the distraction.
By the time I arrive, the service is just beginning. The community center is packed, with people filling every row of folding chairs. The smell of pine trees and candles fills the air, and the gentle hum of Christmas carols echoes through the space. Kathy and Laura wave me over to where they’re sitting, saving a seat for me.
I slip in next to them, grateful for the familiarity of their company. Kathy is beaming, probably still high on the holiday cheer and her recent trip to Italy, while Laura looks relaxed and happy. They’re both staying at another shared property the Stantons once invested in together when still married. It’s on the other side of Denver and, from what I hear, a modern home with all the tech advancements.
We exchange hugs before settling into the service, the soft holiday lighting illuminating the faces of those around us.
As I glance around, I notice some of the Avalanche players scattered throughout the room. Most are seated with their wives and kids, looking surprisingly at ease in this peaceful setting. It’s nice to see them in a different light, away from the intensity of the ice rink.
My gaze lands on Eric, who’s a few rows away from me. He’s sitting with a group of kids, all of them wearing Avalanche jerseys and wide-eyed with excitement. I watch as he leans down, talking to one of the boys, his expression kind and patient. The kid beams up at him, probably unable to believe he’s sitting next to his hockey hero on Christmas Eve.
There’s something about seeing Eric like this that tugs at my heart, even though I’ve been trying so hard to keep him at arm’s length. I just feel too much to let him close.
He’s been so hot and cold lately, but watching him interact with these kids… it’s like seeing a different side of him. A softer side. And damn it, it makes me like him even more.
After the service, people are milling around, chatting and exchanging holiday wishes. Eric is swarmed by fans, but he handles it with the same grace he always does. Smiling, taking photos, signing autographs. I admire how he’s so effortlessly good at this.
As I watch him, a wave of realization hits me, hard and fast. I like Eric. Like, really like him. And it’s not just the fake dating thing or the fact that we’ve been living together. It’s more than that. It’s the way he’s always willing to show up, the way he makes me laugh, the way he looks at me like he actually sees me. At least, that’s how it used to be between us.
I thought I could keep my distance. I thought I could stay detached, keep things professional, but now I’m not so sure I want to.
When we get back to the Stanton house, it’s late, but the house feels warm and festive. The Christmas tree is twinkling in the corner of the living room, and the smell of pine and fresh cookies fills the air.
Eric and I are alone in the kitchen. It’s quiet, the only sounds coming from the soft hum of Christmas music playing in the background. I start pulling out ingredients to bake some cookies, more as a distraction than anything else. I need something to focus on, something to keep my hands busy while my mind spins.
Eric leans against the counter, watching me as I sift flour into a bowl. “Need any help?” he asks.
I shake my head, but the truth is, I don’t know what I need anymore. “I’ve got it.”
We fall into silence again, and for the first time in a while, it’s not uncomfortable. It’s just… there. Like we’re both waiting for something to happen, even though neither of us knows what that something is.
Finally, I break the silence. “I’m sorry,” I say softly, not even sure where to begin. “About everything. About… your mom. And then pulling back from you, from… this strange relationship we have.”
Eric’s eyes soften, and for a moment, I think he’s going to say something kind. But then he just shrugs. “You were right about my mom. I’ve moved on. She made her choice to stay out of my life. Her reasons aren’t my business.” He pauses and adds. “Or yours.”
His words are like a punch to the gut, though I don’t think he means any harm. I can feel the distance between us growing again. I turn back to the cookies, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. “No problem on my part with that.”
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t mean it like that, Jessica. It’s just… complicated. I don’t know how to feel, so maybe it’s better to just not feel anything. You know?”
I nod, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. “I get it. And I’m sorry you felt that I was pushing.” I’m suddenly losing interest in the cookies. I want to go to my room and mope in peace and quiet. I haven’t heard from my dad today, and it’s just as well, but it’s also just… all wrong. Everything feels wrong.
He steps closer, and I can feel his presence behind me, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the coldness of his last words. “Hey, you’re good. I’m good,” he says quietly. “I just needed a little time to know how to deal with it.”
I melt into his presence and turn to face him, and for the first time in a while, I feel like we’re actually talking. Really talking. His eyes meet mine, and there’s something there—something raw and real. It makes my heart ache.
“You don’t have to deal with it alone,” I whisper out my words like an offer, an olive branch to rebuild a connection between us.
He takes a step closer, and suddenly, the space between us feels small and charged. “I don’t want to try to figure things out with my past alone,” he admits, his voice low. “But I don’t want to drag you into it either. It could get messy. Really messy.”
“That’s why you shouldn’t try to do anything like that alone,” I say softly, my eyes dropping to his full lips.
We stand there, staring at each other, the air thick with desire. And then, before I can think about it, before I can stop myself, I lean in to kiss him.
Our lips meet, and it’s like everything else fades away. The doubts, the fears, the confusion—they all melt into the background as I lose myself in him.
Eric’s hands slide around my waist, pulling me closer, and I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his.
We stumble back, bumping into the kitchen counter, but neither of us breaks the kiss. It’s like we’re both afraid to break the moment, afraid that if we stop, everything will go back to the way it was before. And I’m suddenly realizing that he doesn’t want that any more than I do.
I don’t want to go back. I want this—him.
“Jessica,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice deep with desire.
“Shh,” I whisper, tugging at his shirt. “Don’t talk. Just… don’t talk.”
And for once, he listens.
We move together, the kitchen forgotten, the cookies forgotten, everything forgotten except for this—this moment, this feeling, this need.
I feel him lift me up into his arms, carrying me to the bedroom. I let his hands slip under my shirt as he places me down, feeling my bare skin, the peaks of my nipples, the softness of my breasts. I shiver as he pulls my shirt off. My hands don’t hesitate when I find his belt and undo his pants. Soon we’re naked before each other.
His lips capture mine before he lifts me up and onto the bed, kissing his way down to my waist, and then my inner thighs. I throw my head back on the soft comforter as his tongue finds my wet folds, landing on my clit.
“Yes,” I moan out into the silent room, my fingers tangling in his hair. “Don’t stop.”
And he doesn’t. Two orgasms later, I am almost blind with pleasure, sending lightning bolts through my mind in the most delicious way. I feel him kiss me again, and then I feel his sheathed cock slide into me.
The last few times felt different. This feels very much like he’s making love to me. I can’t open my eyes, afraid I might be wrong, and all too willing to let myself go in the feelings of this moment.
But after, as I stare up at the ceiling, my heart still racing from what just happened, one thought keeps running through my mind.
What happens now?