Chapter 28 Rowyn #2
I’m about to close the closet door and pause, a grin tugging at my lips when I see the empty space Jaxon cleared just for me.
An actual section—my hangers, my things, nestled among his.
It’s such a small thing, but to me, it feels monumental.
Real. A shift I can’t pretend isn’t happening.
And for the first time, I don’t feel panicked by that. I feel…hopeful.
Jaxon, though…with him I’m not so sure. We avoid the topic like it’s a live wire. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s time we stop dancing around it.
But if I’m the only one in deep here? I don’t want to push too hard and risk unraveling everything before Vegas.
That trip is supposed to be fun—celebrations, bright lights, new memories.
Now that I know the guys are going too, I’m twice as excited.
Maybe the distance from home will make things easier.
Maybe the anonymity of a different city will give me the courage I never quite find here.
Maybe that’s when I finally tell him I’ve fallen for him.
That what I want from life has shifted—and he’s at the center of it.
Will he tell me he feels the same? That he wants the same future? Or will he look at me and gently remind me that this is all pretend?
I study my reflection and add a touch of blush to my pale cheeks.
I thought I was getting sick last week, but I’m not.
I’m healthy—just tired. Bone-deep tired from the long days juggling work and helping Gina.
Not that I mind. I actually love her kids.
Their laughter makes everything in life better.
I step back into the hallway, and that strange chill slithers over me again, like a prickle of awareness. I go perfectly still, scanning up and down the hall, listening. Something feels…off. Heavy. Unseen.
Then my phone pings.
I jump so hard I nearly launch out of my socks. Heart hammering, I snatch it from my pocket
It’s Jaxon. Texting. And just like that, the worry slips away, replaced by a sharp, undeniable thrill.
Jaxon: Have fun tonight at Gina’s.
Me: I can’t wait to watch you play. You guys got this.
Jaxon: Thanks, babe.
My heart tightens in that dangerous, fluttery way.
Babe. It’s such a simple word, but when he says it, or texts it, something inside me settles…
and simultaneously flips upside down. For a moment, I consider telling him about the weird feeling I had earlier, the chill that brushed past me like a whisper—but I don’t.
It feels too heavy for right now. I don’t want to worry him before the game.
Me: I’m heading to Gina’s now. Think we’ll be able to talk tonight after the game?
Jaxon: If we win, it’ll be an all-night party, but I’ll sneak away.
Me: No, I don’t want to take you away from the guys.
Jaxon: Babe, all the guys sneak away to talk to their wives and girlfriends. This is the first time I get to do it too.
I freeze. He said girlfriends. This is the first time I get to do it. He’s letting it settle between us—soft, understated, but real. Not pretend. Not part of the act we’ve been playing. Something more.
My breaths come shallow, little puffs like I’ve just sprinted. I force myself to walk down the hallway, pacing to steady my pulse. That’s when I spot something out of place in the spare room—the vacuum lines on the area rug are perfectly patterned, too neat.
Me: Uh, did you vacuum the area rug in the spare room?
Jaxon: LOL no. Oh, I forgot to mention the cleaner was in today. Once a month. Today was the day. Okay, gotta run. Talk soon.
I stop, exhale loudly. That explains the off feeling I got walking through the house. Something was different, and my senses caught it before my brain did. Just the cleaner—not ghosts, intruders, or a bad omen about tonight. Relief trickles in.
Me: No worries. Go do your thing. Can’t wait to cheer you on.
I stare at the screen for a heartbeat longer, hoping for one more message, one more small confirmation of everything unspoken. When nothing comes through, I head downstairs, scoop up the wine and the mushrooms, and step outside with a newfound spring in my step.
Gina’s place is close, so I decide to walk. The crisp evening air brushes my cheeks, each breath clearing away the last of the tension. Maybe it’ll even give me a little color.
I chuckle to myself, thinking about how, for a hot second, I wondered if Jaxon had a ghost. The idea reminds me of last Christmas, when Penn was convinced his aunt’s cat, Muffin, was the reincarnation of Earl—her dearly departed husband who apparently shared both attitude issues and a taste for smoked salmon.
Good to know tonight’s mystery was just the cleaner and not something supernatural. Although, if it were, it would make a great story in the paper…well, Billy’s kind of story. Mine? Not so much. Although there’s no universe in which I’d give Billy anything about Jaxon.
That’s one line I will never cross.
I reach Gina’s steps and the door flies open before I can even knock.
I’m dragged inside, and it’s chaos in the best possible way—laughter bouncing off the walls, clinking glasses, the savory smell of food, and that low hum of camaraderie that makes you feel instantly at home.
Wine glints in glasses, conversations overlap, and someone is telling a story that makes everyone laugh so hard their cheeks hurt.
Before I know it, the game is on. We huddle around the TV like a family, clinging to each other’s hands, reminding one another to breathe, inching closer with each pass, each play, each nerve-shredding moment, as our men leave everything on the ice.
When Brady stops that hard-hitting puck, we all leap to our feet.
When Jesse scores the first goal, we spin, dance, and whoop so loud it echoes through the room.
The score stays one-nothing through the third period, until Edmonton finally nets a goal.
The collective “boo” rolls out in unison, a mixture of frustration and fear.
Our hands grip each other like lifelines. Jesse passes to Conner, Conner tips it to Jaxon, and Jaxon shoots…and scores.
I erupt, screaming so loud I’m sure I’m going to fry my vocal cords for a week. I don’t care. The guys cheer, high-fives flying, and for a fleeting moment, the world narrows to this pure, electrifying joy.
But then, less than a minute remains. Edmonton pulls their goalie. My lungs freeze. My heart hammers so hard it’s almost painful. I can’t breathe.
“I can’t watch,” I squeak, curling into myself as Edmonton takes the puck down ice, weaving past Ash like he isn’t even there. The puck slides to their left winger—then a shot. My stomach knots, my hands shake. I wait. The buzzer. The light. Anything. But nothing.
Then, Brady comes up with the puck. The clock hits zero. And suddenly—we’re all on our feet again, hugging, dancing, laughing, crying. Triumph tastes sweet and sharp all at once.
Eventually, we settle, wiping tears, watching our guys pile on each other, celebrating their hard-earned victory.
Soon enough the cup is presented to the Bucks and then Conner wins the Conn Smythe trophy.
After a few victory laps and impromptu on ice interviews with the media the players disappear down the tunnel.
And just like clockwork, the phone frenzy begins.
Josie’s phone rings, then Brighton’s, then Gina’s and Taylor’s.
My stomach tightens, and the second I glance at my own phone lying on the table…
it rings. My heart jumps straight into my throat.
I snatch it up, quickly stepping into a quiet corner, desperate for a private moment.
“Jaxon, oh my God, you guys did it! Your goal! You won!”
“We did it,” he says. His voice carries the exhilaration of victory, but beneath it—exhaustion. Fatigue that comes from giving everything you’ve got.
I press the phone closer, leaning into him through the line, the background noise fading into static. “You need to go celebrate. I don’t want to keep you.”
“I know, babe. I just really wanted to talk to you.”
I cradle the phone like it’s a fragile piece of him, feeling closer with every word. “I’m so glad. I wanted to talk to you too. I can’t wait to celebrate.”
“Yeah… me too.”
“I loved watching you tonight.”
“I love…” His voice falters, then trails off. One of the guys yells in the background, the pop of a champagne bottle punctuating the moment. My chest tightens. I’m desperate to hear what he was going to say next.
“Jaxon…” I whisper, almost breathless.
“I, uh… love that you love watching.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. I can’t tell if that’s exactly what he meant to say, or if there’s something more hiding in that pause, tucked between the words. But either way… it’s enough. For now.