38. THE ONE WITH THE WRONG PUCKING PLAYER
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
THE ONE WITH THE WRONG PUCKING PLAYER
HexedHeroine: I heard you spooky lil freaks were looking for dark & smutty hockey romance recs?
Comment: In Hex we trust!!!!
Comment: Just porn in word form
HexedHeroine comment reply: I love when women take charge of their sexuality. Almost as much as I love exposing gross men on the internet. Is this you in my DMs, Gregory? What do you think your wife would say about this? Let’s find out!
Comment reply: Hex is so back, y’all
A Baltimore based comedy podcast reaches out to Enzo, hoping to have West as a guest on Wednesday before his long weekend of shows starts.
Monday night after Frankie left, I get an email from a five-star hotel, hoping to treat West and his team to a stay in their penthouse for the weekend while he’s performing in the area.
All they ask is that they’re tagged in a post or two after our stay…
Which gives Hex and West Parker the perfect opportunity to collab for the first time.
We check in Tuesday night, using the few hours before we go to bed early catching up on work that got ignored for binge watching movies on the townhouse couch.
The podcast said they’d film for social media and would share files with me to post, which means I don’t have to go if I don’t want to.
I decide to lounge before getting some more admin work done when the boys leave and it’s quiet. I’m kicked back on the couch, enjoying our penthouse view of downtown Baltimore, reading my second book in a genre I’m not typically drawn to, but I’ve taken a sudden interest in hockey recently.
West comes out of the master suite after a shower, the scent of his freshly sprayed cologne assaulting me—not in a he’s wearing too much way—in a stop fucking smelling so goddamn good way!
His scent dulls my senses, slowing down my reaction time. I sit up, gasping when I come face to face with him leaning over the back of the couch.
“Hi,” he says, glancing over his shoulder to scan the room before hopping the backrest and straddling my lap.
My Kindle goes tumbling, but West catches it before it hits the floor, gently placing it on the coffee table. He’s got the reflexes of an athlete still, along with the mass and weight.
I wiggle under him. “West, get off me,” I hiss quietly, my heart racing from his close proximity and at the possibility of getting caught.
He ignores my demand, taking it as a request. “Do you know what I’d give to stay here with you today?” His stare stops the fight in me, my hands falling to his legs.
The rippling muscles underneath his pants are exactly what I’d expect from a hockey player’s quads. “What position did you play?” I ask, seemingly out of nowhere.
He cocks a brow. “Center. Why?”
I nod, envisioning him in his uniform. It’s a delicious image, especially when West’s on top of me, smelling good and looking stupid hot like always. “Do you have any pictures?” I reach for my phone. “Better yet, let me Google some.”
West stops me, cupping my cheek in his hand sweetly. It’s contradicting the devious smile he wears. “What, or should I say, who’s got you so curious about hockey?”
I forget I’m supposed to be worried about someone walking in on us. I lick my lips, watching his eyes fall to them like I knew they would. “Mmm, no one in particular—”
He catches the end of my sentence in his mouth, the surprise of his kiss erasing every thought from my mind. It’s fast and hot, his hand sliding from my cheek to my neck, applying not nearly enough pressure before I feel like the wind’s ripped from my lungs.
West is off me in under a second. I tumble back to reality, holding my breath so I’m not panting when I hear the reason West is now on the other side of the room, casually looking through the fridge for a drink.
“Is Kell meeting us there?” Enzo asks.
I’m white-knuckling the blanket in my lap, trying to process what the fuck just happened.
We almost got caught, that’s what.
West looks over his shoulder, not a hair out of place. “As far as I know.” He grabs his favorite energy drink. “Anyone want anything?” He turns to me, and I stop breathing. “You look pale. Do you need a juice?”
The sound of his can opening encourages air to reenter my lungs, and I try to talk at the same time.
“Nope, all good.” My voice makes me sound definitely not-good.
I clear my throat and smile, grabbing my Kindle from the table.
I pretend to read while West and Enzo talk about the guys who run the podcast.
It’s a big deal. A couple million streams a month.
Part of me wants to go, to be there to support West… but his social media team isn’t needed today. And sure, I’m his friend, but I’m not his girlfriend—not really. I can support from here. Like a friend would.
For the record, I’ve never kissed a friend the way we just did.
“You sure you don’t wanna come along?” Enzo invites me for the fourth time, slipping into his jacket.
I dip my chin in a single nod, keeping my eyes off West while I regain control of my breathing. “I’m going to use the peace and quiet to get some work done.” I wink at Enzo, knowing he’s going to be jealous.
“I’ll be living vicariously through you.” He opens the front door leading to the private top floor elevator and steps out, giving West space to enter my line of vision.
I can’t fight it. I fix my gaze on him.
The look in his eyes warns me he knows something, but I’m not prepared for what comes out of his mouth. “Enjoy your peace and quiet with the wrong pucking player, Joey baby.”
It feels like all the blood rushes to my feet, draining my face of any color. The door closes behind him, and I take my first real breath since he walked into the room.
West saw the title of the book I’m reading: The Right Pucking Player.
I can hear his laugh even after the door clicks shut, and about the time they should be getting on the elevator, my phone vibrates with a text.
I know better than to open it, but my finger slides over the screen anyway.
West
So you don’t come across the one where I’m still missing two teeth!
Attached is a picture of him, dressed in his college uniform, holding up a trophy with the year before his career ended engraved on it.
His hair is stuck to his sweaty forehead, and he’s got the most gigantic goofy West smile I’ve ever seen.
There are a few teammates surrounding him, looking just as happy.
Me
You have two fake teeth?
I know he expects me to say something about the picture, but instead I focus on the new bit of information he’s given me.
West
3 in total
Got a little 2-for-1 special when I called Ohio State’s goalie’s mom a ho (it was spicier than this, but I feel bad about it now, so I’ll paraphrase) and got hit with the butt end of another player’s stick during the next play.
Me
You broke two cardinal rules? Don’t talk about a boy’s mama AND it was directed at the goalie?
West
You’re paying attention
Anyway, I have some R-rated hockey pics if the scene gets really spicy… Or if you need to add to your spank bank.
I leave him on Read, unable to go back to reading about another hockey player when all I can picture is West.
After eating a light lunch, I pull my laptop out and set myself up at the desk by the window. I tackle important emails for West first, using it as a reminder that while we might be crossing into unknown territory, I still have a job to do.
It’s just sex, anyway. We’re just friends who have really great sex.
Maybe if I keep reminding myself I’ll start to believe it! I roll my eyes… at myself.
I switch to content scheduling when I catch up on the most pressing emails, scattering a few plans for Hex and West into what I already have set in place. We’ll post one this week, see how it goes, and then decide what the plan is for the rest of the tour.
After this weekend, we’ll have five more weekends of shows, closing the tour out near West’s hometown in Traverse City, Michigan the night before Thanksgiving.
Frankie brought up Thanksgiving at her parent’s last week, reminding me to book a flight before they get too expensive.
I distract myself from thinking about the end by scrolling on social media for a while. I stumble across a sick transition by a small bookish creator who tagged Hex as their inspiration.
Before being doxxed, I used to spend a lot of time engaging with my followers, happy to build a community around the things I love.
Dark books, witty banter, and spooky vibes.
I haven’t replied to much since I returned to social media, doing enough to let people see I’m still around and not just posting and ghosting. Part of me misses it, wishing I could go back to before when I became Hex to escape.
Now I almost feel like I’m trying to escape Hex, even though that’s the last thing I want, but I also don’t think I want to go back to before either… because West wouldn’t get to come with me.
This is all so fucked.
I run a hand down my face, groan, and hit send on the comment before I can overthink it.
HexedHeroine: HOT
People take notice immediately, replies to my comment piling up quickly.
Comment reply: OMG HEX HEY GURL HOW U DOIN
Comment reply: Hex, please!!!! Are you and West Parker dating? Just tell us!
I heart a few of the nice replies, save the video to my favorites, reshare it, and return to my computer to check my own business email.
West’s stuff has taken precedence over the last few days, putting me behind on replies to my own brand deals, new and old.
There are about a hundred spam emails that somehow make it through the blocker I pay for. I scan through the AI-generated bullshit, making sure there’s nothing important getting mixed in.
Bob White. Delete.
Mary Davis. Delete.
Steve Smith. Delete.
They could at least pick cooler names if they’re going to drain Earth of water!
Lilly Hollow. Del—Lilly Hollow? I know that name.
She’s an icon in the business world, making Forbes 30 under 30 at twenty-three for starting her first publishing company from scratch.
She’s got to be in her forties now, and Hell & Hollow is her latest venture—a woman owned and operated Boston based publishing company specializing in the dark romance genre.
I’ve gotten lots of PR from them. I’m a huge fan.
The email’s from Lilly@, and it’s definitely not spam.
Hi Jo,
My name’s Lilly Hollow. I’m the owner and CEO of Hell & Hollow publishing in Boston, Massachusetts.
I’m so sorry to send this to your Hex email, but I didn’t have any luck getting through to you on your personal, and I’m hoping I can chat with you!
I’ve been following HexedHeroine since the very beginning, before Hell & Hollow became what it is now. Your brand is fierce, sexy, and my favorite kind of naughty, but most importantly, it’s empowering.
A few months ago, a friend of mine in the marketing world sent me a networking profile of a woman she thought would be the perfect fit for a position I’m looking to fill.
I know it’s not necessary to tell you how impressive your resume is, but I have to—I love seeing a fellow alternative chick kick ass and take names in the male-dominated Corporate America.
You can imagine my shock, as a fan of Hex, to find out with the rest of the world that this girl I’d emailed about a job weeks prior, is the woman behind the mask of the internet’s favorite book influencer.
Before I ramble forever and scare you off, I want you to know that whatever you decide to do next, I’ll be following as a fan.
But I think Hell & Hollow needs someone like you.
I look forward to hearing back!
Have a great week,
Lilly Hollow
Owner/CEO
Hell & Hollow Publishing
The email was sent nearly three weeks ago.
I haven’t gone on my personal email in weeks, finding nothing but coupons and payment confirmations for my various subscriptions. Anything important should get rerouted to my HexedHeroine account.
I search Lilly, her name popping up in my spam folder from the first week of September. Two and a half weeks before I lost my job, before I got doxxed, before I met West…
This one’s much shorter with the same greeting, but there’s a piece of information Lilly left out in her email to Hex.
Hell & Hollow is looking to fill the role of Chief Marketing Officer.
After I got accepted into Harvard, I didn’t know what I wanted with my life. I’d done the crazy big thing I’d said I would, and then found myself thinking, okay? Now what?
I studied mathematics during undergrad because I was good at it, and it wouldn’t push me too far out of my comfort zone. I’d never wanted to be a mathematician or professor of any kind, so I stayed behind to get my MBA because I needed more time to figure it out.
I eventually realized I liked the strategy side of marketing, getting to put plans into place based on numbers and metrics. It lets me use logic while always having some kind of new challenge with how quickly digital marketing evolves.
I accepted my first job through a successful internship with a decades old marketing firm, specializing in talent management.
The year I left to accept the job with Vyce, I was making over six figures as the Creative Director, but I wanted more.
I wanted to feel like I’d helped build something new.
So, I took less money for a higher position at the up-and-coming Vyce Talents. It was great… until it wasn’t.
If I would have seen this email before being let go, I wouldn’t be here right now.
I sit in silence for a while before responding to Lilly’s email, closing my laptop, and clocking out for the day.