Chapter 5
Jaxon
With three minutes left and the score tied, every muscle in my body burns, but the rush of adrenaline keeps me sharp.
This is it. Game seven of the semi-finals.
The winner goes to the cup finals. The arena is electric, the crowd a blur of noise and color, and I can feel every vibration of their excitement in my chest.
I glance behind me as the puck gets dumped into the corner. Noah’s already there, grinding it out against the boards. He wins the battle, flicks the puck to me, and instinct takes over. One smooth pass to Jesse, who tips it—just the faintest touch—and the red-light flashes.
Goal.
The buzzer wails, and the whole arena erupts. Fans are on their feet, pounding the glass, screaming like it’s Game 7 of the Cup finals. The guys swarm Jesse, helmets clashing, gloves flying, everyone shouting over each other. My face aches from grinning, my heart’s a wild drum in my chest.
Then, out of the chaos, I glance up to the box.
Rowyn’s there.
She’s jumping, cheering, arms thrown around Jaylynn, her hair a wild halo under the lights—and it does something stupid to me. Something I can’t shove down.
I’ve never had a girlfriend in the box before. Never had someone up there…for me.
Sure, Rowyn and I are faking it. But for one split second, it doesn’t feel fake. It feels right. Like maybe I want what my teammates have—what my parents have. That steady kind of love that doesn’t just cheer you on from the stands, but sticks around after the buzzer, too.
My folks have always been solid that way. Real role models. Which is probably why I tried to do the “right thing” with Ember when she said she was pregnant.
I shove the thought aside. Not tonight. Tonight, we’re conference champions, and I want to celebrate with the guys. And maybe a little bit with Rowyn.
Fuck.
Back in the locker room, the mood is electric as the coach comes to talk to us. Once he’s done, music begins pumping, towels flying, someone spraying champagne like we just won the Cup. I drop onto the bench beside Brady and start undressing, the victory buzz still humming in my veins.
“You hitting up Kilting Around?” he asks, grinning.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I say.
He shoots me a look. “So… who’s the girl?”
That gives me pause. Brady’s always been sharp. Probably comes from being married to Melanie the psychologist. Nothing gets past him, and I know I have to be honest.
“Rowyn and I go way back,” I say, trying for casual, and giving the most honest answer I can, without saying much at all. “Friends since childhood.”
“I thought you two were a thing,” Nicklas pipes up from across the room, towel slung around his neck. He smirks. “If you’re not, I wouldn’t mind taking her home.”
I give him a look sharp enough to cut through his ego, but it doesn’t faze him.
Not much does. “She’s not one of your bunnies, and you’re not taking her anywhere,” I grumble, feeling overly protective of her, and not just because we’re friends.
Though the truth is, she can go home with Nicklas if she wants, and deep down he’s a really good guy…
he just needs to see there’s more to life than partying.
He flexes his bicep like an idiot. “Arm wrestle you for her?”
I stare at him. “Are you twelve?”
He grins. “Twenty-four, but thanks for noticing.”
“One of these days, Nicklas…”
He’s already swaggering toward the showers, calling over his shoulder. “Not today. Not when I’ve got Chloe and Claudia waiting for me.”
“Spare me,” I say.
“Hey, just because you don’t know what to do with twins.”
Brady snorts. “The man’s going to need an ice bath for his ego.”
Before I can reply, Penn claps a hand on my back. “Hey, speaking of ‘one of these days’.” He juts his chin toward Nicklas. “Jaylynn’s got something brewing. Remember Sloane?”
I glance up. “Yeah, the one who was with that douche Dylan?”
He nods, a sly grin spreading. “That’s the one. Let’s just say Jaylynn sees something in Nicklas, and is scheming again.”
“Again?” I ask confused.
He checks over his shoulder before leaning into me. “Between us, Jay and I started out…” He pauses as if he’s trying to think of the right word. “Let’s just say, not everything was as it appeared.”
“Okay. Um…” I’m trying to figure out a way to ask exactly what he’s talking about without coming across as dense, but before I get a chance, he laughs.
“Let’s just say, Nicklas isn’t going to know what hit him.”
I groan. “Why do I feel like this is going to end with someone getting arrested?” I tease.
Penn just laughs. “I think he’ll be fine.”
I laugh and follow Penn toward the showers.
I turn the spray to hot, and the water pounds against my skin, washing away the sweat and tension from the game.
Once cleaned up and dressed, a few of us spend the next thirty minutes doing interviews, cameras flashing, questions flying.
Sure, I’m a bit preoccupied, remembering I never actually talked to Rowyn about celebrating after the game, and with the buzz we’re riding, it’s going to be one hell of a night.
Rowyn came with Jaylynn—the team’s PR manager—and now Jaylynn’s juggling us through interviews.
I start wondering if Rowyn took an Uber home or got a ride with one of the wives to Kilting Around.
My gut is hoping for the latter. I really want to see her, and I really don’t want to examine that too closely.
Once the last interview wraps, I hurry outside.
A crowd has formed—fans hunting autographs, hoping to get a word or a selfie—or a hook up with one of the single guys.
Technically…that’s me. The win has me buzzing, but a spark of disappointment flickers when I don’t immediately see Rowyn. Yeah, probably not a good sign.
I take a deep breath to shake it off. This is pretend. Christ, I’m the one who suggested it. I glance around to see if anyone needs a lift to Kilting Around, and then I see her.
Rowyn. Standing there, watching me with that tiny, knowing grin.
Fuck. The sight of her shouldn’t make my chest thump like this—but it does. And now? Now is as good a time as any to stoke the rumors. I can’t help but wonder if she fully realizes the chaos she’s stepping into with this ruse.
I stride straight to her. She nudges me with a playful smirk.
“Great game, Lumber-Jax,” she teases.
I laugh. And before my brain can catch up, I bend and press my lips to hers. Her initial stiffness melts in a heartbeat, though there’s still a hint of hesitation. Then—flash. A camera goes off nearby, squeals erupt from the crowd, and she leans into it. Perfect. The ruse is working.
I wrap my hands around her, pulling her against me. Did she just moan? Maybe, maybe not. But if she did, I’m betting it was very on cue. I break the kiss, keeping my arm around her shoulders.
“Sorry I left you out here stranded,” I say. “Jay had work, and I had an interview.”
“I’m a big girl,” she replies, voice teasing. “I can get myself home.”
“But you stayed?”
“Of course. I wanted to see you,” she says, eyes glinting.
“We’re all headed to Kilting Around for drinks and food. You want to come?”
“I do,” she answers.
I grin, and we head toward my car, the crisp night air buzzing with the energy from the game. Once we’re both inside, she drifts a hand onto my arm. I glance over at her, curious, my heart doing that stupid, unpredictable thump it started doing around her ever since she helped me out at Christmas.
“Jax,” she begins, her voice soft, almost shaky. “The WAGs…they’re all so nice.”
“Yeah, they are,” I agree, smiling. She nibbles her lower lip, hesitation in her gaze. “What’s wrong?” I ask gently, catching the subtle shift in her mood.
“I…sort of told Jaylynn what we were doing,” she admits, eyes darting to mine. “And I’m sure she’ll tell Penn. But I’m also confident our secret is safe with them. In fact…”
Her words trail off, a small crease forming in her forehead as she hesitates.
“In fact, what?” I press, unable to hide my curiosity.
She throws her hands up in the air. “She said…a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
I laugh, the tension breaking just a little. “So she thinks this is a solid plan?”
Rowyn bites her lip again, and then lowers her voice. “Actually…she confessed a little more to me. She told me that she and Penn were pretending at Christmas. Something to do with Dylan, and they ended up engaged.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “So that’s what he was talking about.”
“He told you?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Not exactly in words, but yeah.”
Then she shifts uncomfortably. “The WAGs also invited me to Vegas.” I catch the slight edge in her tone. “They just…automatically took me in as one of their own, even though I’m not.”
Her glance flicks away, and I don’t miss the unspoken weight in that statement. Was that a reminder to me—or to herself?
“You don’t want to go?” I ask, guessing at her hesitation. Before she can answer, I probe, “Work?”
“I could try to get the time off. Lord knows I don’t take enough vacation, and I really am burnt out. I just…don’t want to deceive anyone,” she admits, voice soft, eyes sincere.
I nod, understanding. “Let’s just take it one day at a time. A month is a long way off. If we play our cards right, you’ll be with hot coffee-shop guy by then.”
She smirks, teasing lightly. “You think we should call him Matt?”
I sense the joke is a shield, something she’s using to mask what she’s really feeling. Which is…what? I’m about to ask if she wants to abort this plan, but she gives my arm another squeeze. “We’d better get going. I don’t want to stay out too late tonight.”
“I’ll get you home early,” I promise, smiling down at her, feeling that quiet, electric pull between us that I really need to ignore.
She gives me a warm smile, and I merge into traffic, which is always crazy after a game.
The city is alive tonight, horns honking, people cheering, pedestrians darting in between.
Everyone’s caught up in the playoff frenzy, and now that we’re heading to the finals, the energy is electric. I’m here for it.
Once we clear the rink area, things loosen up a bit. I glance at Rowyn, and she still has that pensive look, like her mind’s running laps I can’t see. She must feel my gaze because she turns toward me.
Gina’s swamped at work,” she begins. “Changes in staff, hard to replace people. And she’s struggling to get a sitter for her kids on the weekend.”
Wait…is she saying what I think she’s saying?
“Are you thinking about helping her out? I thought you worked seven days a week,” I ask, eyebrows raised.
She exhales, and even though she’s stunning every second, the dashboard lights catch the faint weariness around her eyes.
“I’m just…getting a little burnt out, I think,” she admits.
I reach out, resting my hand over hers. “I’m sorry, Rowyn. That’s no fun.”
“No fun is right. Maybe that’s why I asked hot coffee shop guy out…”
“Matt,” I joke with a grin, though the thought of her with some guy I’ve never met makes my stomach twist in a way I’m not thrilled about.
“Matt,” she confirms, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “So…exactly how are we going to make him notice me?”
I hesitate, recalling that ridiculous rom-com plan. “We make him jealous…then stage a breakup.”
She laughs, light and melodic. “As long as none of this gets back to Snowberry.”
I glance at her, and she quickly drops her gaze. “My mother,” she murmurs, voice soft, almost hesitant. “She doesn’t want anything interfering with my career.” She huffs, brushing it off with a laugh that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
I let that sit with me for a moment, the words unsettling me more than I expected. “Rowyn…are you saying your mother doesn’t want you to have relationships?”
I’ve known Rowyn since we were kids, but this is new. A flash of guilt pricks me—maybe I should have been paying closer attention all these years. Hockey was my world growing up, but this…this feels important.
Her voice is quiet when she continues, soft enough that I have to lean in a little to catch it. “She gave up a lot.”
“To raise you?” My stomach tightens. She grew up with only her mother. Her father…was never in the picture. I never asked. Never thought it was my business. But now, hearing this, I realize maybe it is.
I glance over at her, her profile illuminated by passing streetlights, and something in me shifts. Protectiveness. Concern. The kind of feeling you don’t just brush off.
“I don’t think she ever really liked being a mom.”
My hand slides across the console and I take hers into mine. “Rowyn,” I begin, my throat tight. What the hell am I supposed to say? I’m not sure but I settle for, “I’m sorry.”
She shrugs, but this is important. “It’s just that she wants what’s best for me. She worries that if I get involved with someone, have kids, I’d have to give up this career that I worked so hard for if it didn’t work out. Like it didn’t for her. She just worries about me losing it all.”
Worries? I’m not exactly sure that’s the word I’d use. More like projecting her resentment onto her daughter—her own unhappiness—but hey, I’m no psychologist.
“You love your job and who’s to say you’re going to end up alone?
You are not your mother and there are plenty of successful marriages out there, where no one has to give up anything.
Besides, you have a good job and if something like that did happen, you could get a nanny.
You don’t have to give it all up and stay at home. ”
“I wouldn’t want a nanny. I’d want to be home, to see the first tooth, first steps, first everything, really. I’d want to be there for school mornings, PTA meetings, all the soccer practices,” she nudges me playfully. “Or hockey.”
My heart trips up in my chest when I hear the want in her voice, the deep longing, as she stares straight ahead and I can’t help but ask, “Do you want a family?”