Chapter 9 Jaylynn
Jaylynn
“Looks like the party’s already in full swing.” I glance at Penn as we crunch up the front walk, my fingers curling tighter around the neck of the wine bottle. As we approach, the sound of music and laughter seeps through the cracks in the old front door, spilling onto the quiet street.
“Is it like this every Christmas?” he asks, voice pitched low, as if he’s trying to brace himself for chaos.
I pause, my hand brushing his sleeve, before taking hold of his arm. His coat is cold beneath my touch, but the muscle underneath is warm and solid. “It is.”
His steps slow. “Your dad’s not going to toss me out, is he?”
“No.” I laugh. Like I said, he’s not your coach anymore, and I’m a grown adult.”
“Right.”
He scrubs at his face. Is something else bothering him? Like the fact that one day, somewhere in the near future, my dad could once again be his coach? “Are you sure you’re okay? Honestly Penn, if this is going to be hard, you don’t have to—”
“One,” he says, eyes glinting, “I do have to, considering we’re trying to pull off a fake engagement. And two, no way am I letting you walk in there after he wrangled himself an invitation.”
A deep line cuts into Penn’s forehead. Yeah, I get it.
I’m not exactly thrilled either. I couldn’t freaking believe it when Dylan called earlier—smug as ever—asking what kind of wine he should bring.
As if this was some kind of game. As if he’d belonged at my family’s table tonight.
He lost that privilege ages ago. What the hell is he up to?
My stomach knots. Does he want to be here for our announcement? Does he already know we’re faking?
Unease weaves through me. “I have no idea why he’d even want to come.”
“Maybe he wants you back,” Penn says, and the muscle in his jaw jumps.
I huff a laugh, though it’s hollow. “Doubtful.”
“People want what they can’t have, Jay.”
The way he says it, the way his gaze hooks mine in the cold, sends shivers through me. My breath puffs white in the air. “So, you’re saying he sees me with a guy like you—”
“A guy like me?” His tone dips, softer now, and there’s something raw in the way he’s studying me, as if my answer matters more than it should.
“You know.” My voice thins a little. “Big. Scary. Bucks enforcer. A guy with a great career who’s going places.”
“That’s how you see me?”
“It’s how everyone sees you.” The words are out before I can reel them back.
It is how everyone sees him—or at least how he wants them to.
Tough. Untouchable. Built for impact. But there’s something else I’ve seen, something he doesn’t parade for the cameras.
And I can’t stop my mind from drifting back to that day I’d watched him play for the Grizzlies.
It wasn’t about the game—it was after the game, when the ice was empty and the roar of the crowd had faded.
It was that moment. That brief, unguarded space when his shoulders dropped and his stick moved in ways most people would miss—deceptive skill, quiet brilliance.
The kind of magic you only spot if you’ve been raised on hockey tapes and post-game analysis.
And I had been. I’m my father’s daughter, and my father is an AHL coach.
For just a second, something shadows his face, small enough that if I hadn’t been watching him so closely, I’d have missed it.
“Penn?”
He blinks, the moment shuttering. “I’m just saying… he might want you back. Guys like him will do whatever it takes to get what they want.”
But his voice is lower now, threaded with something that feels like a warning.
I shove away the strange, uneasy current snaking through my blood.
“Even if he did, the North Pole would have to melt before that ever happened.” My steps slow on the icy walk.
“Do you think he’s on to us? Maybe he just wants to watch me squirm again.
Maybe he’s a sadist who gets off on hurting me. ”
“The only one who will be watching you squirm is me, and that will be in our bed,” Penn says, low and deliberate, “And if he dares try to hurt you again, he’ll have me to deal with.”
I open my mouth, ready to remind him that punching people is not the way to fix his image, but he barrels on. “If he thinks he’s on to us, then we’ll just have to give the performance of a lifetime.”
“I’m not that great of an actress,” I warn. Sure, I did a summer play at the country club, and a play in high school.
“I watched you in Macbeth back in high school. You were great.”
That stops me. “You…watched me?”
He shrugs like it’s nothing, but I can hear the truth in his voice, how casual he wants it to sound. “Yeah, sure.”
It takes me a second to regroup. Going to that play wasn’t mandatory. It was optional. He didn’t have to be there.
“Aunt Elaine wanted to see it.”
“Right.” How silly of me to briefly think it meant something. He might have kept to himself during high school, but he wasn’t into me. He was the damn star on the hockey team, the guy all the girls wanted. Funny thing is, I can’t actually remember him with any of them.
“What about you?” I ask, tilting my head. “How’s your acting? Any secret plays I should know about?”
He lets out a short, surprised laugh, but there’s a hitch in it—like I just brushed against something private.
He sobers quickly. “Secret plays? Uh…no.”
I narrow my eyes. “Then what?” His reaction was too strong for that simple answer. We might be pretending now, but I suddenly want to know—when else has he put those acting skills to use? What’s he hiding?
He shakes his head. “Nothing. Let’s just say…I can handle this.”
“If only Mom had said no to Dylan.” I shake my head. “She’s still friends with his parents and her motto is, it’s just one more potato.”
“More like one more douche bag.”
As I chuckle, he takes my hand, warm and steady, his fingers sliding between mine like it’s second nature. My pulse stutters. We step up to the door together. He glances at me, like he’s waiting for me to knock, but when I push it open instead, he just nods.
And then, thunder down the hallway. “Aunt Lynny,” Jesse barrels toward me like a pint-sized missile.
I drop the wine on the side table and throw my arms wide. “Jesse. Look at you. You’re getting so big!”
“I’m seven and a half,” he says proudly. Then his gaze shifts to Penn. His eyes go saucer-wide, his body locking up like he just spotted Bigfoot—or, more accurately, his sports idol.
“You know Penn?” I tease.
“Penn Radford,” he whispers. “I…I…”
“Nice to meet you, Jesse.” Penn dips down onto one knee so they’re eye level. “Are you a Bucks fan?”
Jesse can only nod, still star struck.
“Want me to sign something?”
Another nod, and then he’s gone in a blur, yelling, “Mom! Dad! Penn Radford is here!” as he disappears down the hall.
Penn chuckles, straightening, and I give him a nudge. “Well, that was quite the welcome. I knew you had that effect on women. Just didn’t know it extended to grade-schoolers.”
“Women, huh? That include you?”
The question hits like a body check—half joke, half something else—and before I can figure out what to say, my sister-in-law Bella and my brother Oliver appear with Jesse in tow.
“Hey, sis,” Oliver greets, without actually looking at me. His attention is all for Penn. “Penn, I didn’t know you’d be joining us. Welcome home. Congrats on getting called up to the Bucks.”
“Thanks.” Penn shakes my brother’s hand, but I catch the shift in him, the faint stiffening, the less-certain posture.
“Mom said you were bringing a plus-one,” Oliver adds, “We had no idea it was Penn.”
Which means Dylan isn’t here yet. Or worse, he is here, lurking somewhere inside, waiting to make his move and turn this night into exactly the kind of spectacle he wants.
The other two kids—Gillian and Liam—come tearing down the hall, voices shrill with excitement. They’re younger than Jesse and, judging by the way they dive straight into my arms, they have no idea who Penn is.
After a round of hugs and exaggerated squeezes, I make the introductions. Gillian gives Penn a shy wave. Liam just grins at him like he’s trying to figure out whether this giant in a Bucks jacket is friend or foe.
We follow the stampede into the living room, where a game of cards is in full swing. Conversation halts mid-sentence. Every head lifts—first toward me, then locking on Penn like he just stepped out of the TV and into their Christmas.
“Look who’s here,” Oliver says, pointing at Penn.
“Excuse me? What am I, the lump of coal no one asked for?”
He laughs, catching me in a brotherly headlock, his knuckles dragging across my scalp in an ancient sibling move I’d hoped he’d outgrown. I squeal, squirm, and pinch his side hard enough to make him yelp and let go.
“Jaylynn, darling.” Mom sweeps in, pulling me into a hug before turning her attention to Penn. “I didn’t know you were bringing Penn home.”
“You said plus one,” I remind her.
She smiles warmly at Penn. “It’s so good to have you here. Will Elaine be joining us?”
“No, not tonight.” His smile is polite, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that makes me want to press my palm to his chest and keep the world from getting at him. “It’s National Gingerbread Decorating Day, and she’s busy with that.”
“Well, she’s always welcome if she changes her mind.”
Something in his expression makes my heart pinch—a subtle shift, gone as quickly as it comes.
But I recognize it. It’s the look of someone who hasn’t always been welcomed, who’s learned to brace for indifference or worse.
I replay my own history with him in my mind.
No, I don’t think I was ever unkind. But I also didn’t go out of my way.
And now that feels like a missed chance.
“Thank you, Mrs. Quinn.”
“It’s Judy,” she says with a warm smile. A faint blush rises in Mom’s cheeks. “I heard rumors…I didn’t know if they were true or not.”
Of course, she heard rumors. This is Snowberry Falls and news travels faster than snowplows in a blizzard.