Chapter 46
Hunter
The suspension comes down twenty-four hours later. Two games for conduct detrimental to the league. The same bullshit they always trot out when they want to make an example of someone.
“Fuck.” I am pissed, but I also know Patrick deserved what he got, which tempers my feeling. Plus, he’s benched for five games for flying to my city, laying in wait for us, and starting the fight.
I should be furious about being suspended. Six months ago, I would have been. I would’ve raged about the injustice of it, about how Patrick baited me into it, about how the league always punishes the reaction but never the provocation.
Instead, I just feel tired. And strangely… relieved. Patrick deserves to be punched.
“You okay?” Juliet asks from the kitchen. She’s making coffee with the focused attention that means she’s trying not to hover.
I peer over the back of the couch. “Yeah. I think I am.”
She brings me a mug and settles beside me. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t know. I keep waiting to be angry about it. The suspension, missing two games, Patrick getting exactly what he wanted.” I take a sip of coffee. “But I’m not.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Because for the first time in my life, I defended someone I love. I can’t regret that. Even knowing the consequences.” I look at her. “He said those things about you and I couldn’t let it stand. I’d do it again.”
“Hux.” She rolls her eyes. I love the way she huffs out my name.
“I know it was stupid. It plays right into the narrative that I’m still the same guy with anger management issues. But I’m not sorry.”
“Well…” She’s quiet for a moment, processing. “The league called just now.”
I frown. “And?”
Juliet bites her lip. “The clip of Patrick going after me is everywhere. Reporters, players, even fans from rival teams are saying you did what anyone else would’ve done. The narrative flipped overnight.”
I blink, not trusting what I’m hearing.
“They can’t keep you out,” she says. “If they suspend you, it looks like they’re siding with him. The league hates bad optics more than anything.”
For a moment, I can’t move. I’d braced for weeks of headlines calling me a monster, another punishment for losing control. Instead, people are calling me the man who defended his fiancée.
Juliet slides her hand into mine, steady and sure. “You’re going back sooner than they wanted. For once, everyone is looking at the real you.”
I blink. “What?”
“Someone recorded the whole thing. Patrick calling me a charity case, saying I weaponize my body, all of it. You are obviously defending me. It’s everywhere.
” She slides me her phone, open to Instagram.
“People are calling him a misogynistic piece of shit. His own team fined him and benched him indefinitely.”
I scroll through the responses. Thousands of comments supporting me, condemning Patrick, calling my punch justified. Whoa.
“They’re saying you’re a hero for defending me,” Juliet continues. “People say any decent man would have protected his fiancée like that.”
“Public sentiment is a hell of a thing,” I say, echoing her words from months ago. “I guess we can’t exactly drop the whole fiancée charade soon, though.”
“I suppose not.” Her lips tip up and she plays with her engagement ring. “I’m pretty attached to this ring now.”
I arch my eyebrows. “Are you saying you never want to take it off?”
Juliet wets her lips with her tongue, studying me, then looking down at her ring again.
“We aren’t there, Hux. We both deserve to date each other for a while.
Get dressed up, go out on the town, have long conversations late at night about where we want our lives to go.
When we agreed to have this fake engagement, we skipped all this incredibly important stuff that you normally start a relationship off with.
I don’t want to miss one second of that stuff with you.
” She glances up at me through her lashes. “I mean, if you want that.”
I’m genuinely touched that she gives a fuck about me. I’d do anything for this woman. Of course I’ll go back to the beginning and take it slow.
“I’m going to tell you the truth, Monroe. If you’d let me, I’d walk you down the aisle tomorrow. I have already decided about you.”
She touches my jaw, smiling softly.
“Don’t get it twisted. I love you, Hux. I just want us to have the luxury of getting to know each other again for at least a few months before we talk about… you know, getting engaged for real.”
“Baby, I love you. I’ve waited years for you. I’ll wait a lifetime if you insist on it. My position is crystal clear. My heart is yours.”
Her lips part. “Oh, Hux.”
There’s that nickname again, expelled so gently from her lips. I lean in to kiss her, smiling.
I’m in no rush. When my girl is ready, I’ll be waiting.
* * *
The next evening, I’m back on the ice for what should have been my second suspended game. The crowd gives me a standing ovation when I skate out for warm-ups. It’s not something I expect and I have to blink hard to keep my composure.
Then, I play the best game of my entire career.
After the game, which we win handily, the media wants to talk about everything except hockey. They want to know about my relationship with Juliet, about the personal growth, about whether I’m really changed or just better at controlling myself.
“Both, I guess,” I say honestly. “I’ve changed, but I’m also human. When someone attacks the woman I love, says vile things designed to hurt her, I’m going to react. Maybe not always perfect, but I’m going to react.”
I look at Juliet, who is blushing like a schoolgirl. I arch a brow, wondering whether she’s wearing one of those lacy little thongs that I love so much under that short navy dress.
“Do you regret hitting him?” a reporter asks.
Oh, yeah. For a second, I forgot that the cameras were here. Juliet has that effect on me, always dragging my mind away from the parts of life I don’t like.
“I regret that it came to that. But do I regret defending my fiancée? Never.”
The reporter leans forward. “Some people say this proves you haven’t really changed at all.”
“Some people said I’d never change to begin with.
” I shrug. “What people think is beyond my control. I can only control my actions going forward. And going forward, I’m going to keep working on myself, keep being the teammate and partner I want to be, and keep protecting the people I love when necessary. ”
“Even if it costs you?”
I bob my head. “Yeah, man. Especially then.”
Juliet smiles at me, her gorgeous chocolate eyes telling me every single thing she feels. God, I’m lucky that I get to take her home, real fiancée or not.
Later, back at the apartment, Juliet is curled up on the couch with her laptop when I find her.
“Working?” I ask, settling beside her.
“Reading coverage of your interview. You did well.”
“I told the truth.” I shrug my shoulders.
“That’s what made it good.” She hesitates, then closes her laptop and turns to face me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Always, baby.”
She smiles, then schools her expression. “Are you happy? Thrilled?”
The question catches me off guard. “Why do you ask?”
“Because a few months ago, you looked like you were angry at the world all the time. And tonight, even after everything with Patrick and the suspension, you looked like you belonged out there. It seems like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.”
I think about it for a moment. “Yeah. I think I am happy. For the first time in a long time.”
“Good. You deserve to be happy.”
“So do you.”
“I am happy. Scared sometimes, but happy.”
“What scares you?”
“This. Us. How much I want it to work.” She pauses. “What if we mess this up?”
“Then we mess it up together. But we won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because we’ve already been through the worst parts. We’ve seen each other at the messiest, most broken, most terrified. And we’re still here.”
I pull her closer until she’s curled against my side.
“We’re not perfect, Juliet. We’re never going to be perfect. But we’re real. We’re honest with each other. We fight for each other. That’s enough.”
“Is it?”
“For me, it is.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I know there is more that she wants to say. I can read it on her face.
“What?” I nudge her gently.
“This is the last time I’m going to ask, but…” She blows out a stream of air. “No more contracts? No more expiration dates? We’re done with all that, right?”
Ah. That old chestnut. I cover her hand reassuringly.
“We’re done, Monroe. No more pretending this is temporary. This is real. Permanent. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
* * *
Two Months Later
The phone vibrates against the kitchen counter. Unknown number. Normally I’d let it go, but something in the pit of my stomach twists and tells me to answer.
“Hello?”
There’s a pause, then a voice I haven’t heard in months. Raw. Thin. But unmistakable.
“Hunter.”
My chest tightens. Mom.
I glance toward the living room where Juliet is curled on the couch with her laptop, her feet tucked under her, hair spilling loose over her shoulder. Curious, she looks up, but I shake my head. She doesn’t press. She knows who it must be.
“Mom,” I say, the word sticking in my throat like glass.
“I only get ten minutes,” she rushes. Her voice is scratchy, like the cheap prison phone is chewing her words in half. “I—I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”
The words hang there, thin and brittle.
“You’re sorry,” I repeat flatly. “For what, exactly?”
She’s quiet for a beat. “For everything. The money, the contracts. For… for how I treated you. I wasn’t well.”
I rub a hand over my jaw, feeling the grind of my teeth. “You were well enough to sign my name on checks you cashed. Well enough to sell me out for interviews.”
“I thought I was protecting us.” Her breath shudders. “I thought if I could just keep you afloat, keep you visible—”
“That doesn’t even make sense, Mom.”
“Well.”
Silence crackles on the line. I almost hang up. Then she says it fast, like she’s been building to this the whole time.
“Well?” I prompt.
She sounds tearful. “I need your help, Hunter. Please. The appeal hearing is next month. If you testify, if you say I never meant harm. If you just speak for me, they might reduce my sentence. I could be out. I could see you again.”
And there it is. The real reason. Not because she misses me. Not because she loves me. Because she wants something.
I lean against the counter and let out a long, rough sigh. “I should’ve known. You only ever call when you need something.”
“No. That’s not true—”
“It’s exactly true. Every time. As a kid, when you needed me to cover for you with Silas.
When you wanted me to keep Jett quiet. When you needed someone to haul your ass home after you disappeared for three days.
Every time, you’ve wanted something. And I gave it, because I was too young and too stupid to know better. ”
Her breathing goes ragged on the other end. “I’m your mother.”
I laugh once. “You stopped being that a long time ago.”
“I can change.” Her voice breaks. “Just give me a chance. Don’t let them leave me here. It’s…it’s hell, Hunter. I can’t sleep. I can’t think. The women here… they look at me like I’m nothing. You don’t know what it’s like.”
She’s sobbing now, the sound scratchy and desperate. Once, it would have cut me in half. I would have scrambled to soothe her, to fix it, to believe her. But now all I feel is tired.
“I can’t get you out,” I say flatly. “It’s not up to me.”
“You could try.”
“Not anymore.” I look over at Juliet again. She catches my eye, her expression steady, grounding. My chest eases. “I have a wife now. A life you’re not part of. And that’s not changing.”
She goes quiet. Just the sound of breathing, wet and broken, echoing through the receiver.
Finally she whispers, “Do you hate me?”
The question slams into me. I think about all the years she shaped my anger, taught me that love was something you earned by bleeding for it. About the stolen money, the interviews, the humiliation. About the letters I wrote to her and never sent.
“No,” I say. “I don’t hate you.”
“Then why won’t you help me?”
“Because hating you would mean I still care enough to fight with you. What I feel now is worse for you. I feel sorry. Sorry that you don’t have what I have.”
“What’s that?” she snaps, defensive even in chains.
“Someone who loves me wanting nothing in return.”
I glance again at Juliet, who has set her laptop aside and is watching me carefully, her head tilted, her eyes soft. My throat loosens.
“I feel sorry for you, Mom,” I say. “Because you’ll never know what it’s like to be loved like that.”
She makes a strangled sound. “Hunter, wait—”
The line goes dead.
I stare at the phone in my hand.
Juliet crosses the room and slips her hand into mine.
She doesn’t ask questions or pressure me at all.
Just her touch, grounding me in the present.
She leans into me, her head resting against my chest. I breathe her in, citrus and warmth and the faint perfume she always wears, and my heartbeat steadies.
I wrap my arm around my wife and let the weight of the call fall away. For the first time in years, I don’t feel chained to anyone. I feel free.