Page 23 of Pucks, Lies, and Sticktape

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely holding steady. “I guess I’m just tired.”

“I can understand that.”

“It’s been a lot...”

“I get that too—but you’re home now. You’re safe and can rest unbothered,” he murmured, his touch light as he took her elbow and led her down the hall. “Here’s your room. I took the liberty of setting it up so you could get some sleep when you got home. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

“Well, I guess this is good night.”

“I guess so,” she replied, her heart clenching as she tried to push down those feelings of inadequacy deep down inside.

“Jeannie?”

“Yeah?” she answered automatically, turning and looking up at him, trying to control that sudden surge of hope within herchest. Her eyes met his, saw him searching her gaze, waiting, and then seemed to visibly deflate before her eyes.

“Nothing. Sweet dreams – and I’m glad you are here.”

Matthieu’s words hung in the air, an invisible wall falling into place between them. Jeannie watched, her breath caught in her throat, as he turned without hesitation, walking away from her. His broad shoulders disappeared through the doorway at the far end of the house, his steps steady, unhurried—so unlike the chaos roaring inside her chest. She wanted to call out, to stop him before he vanished completely, before the last shred of hope slipped through her fingers like sand.

But no sound came.

She stood frozen in place, her body stiff with rejection, her mind reeling from the quiet devastation of his retreat. A hollow ache spread through her, deep and cavernous, like something inside her had cracked wide open. Was it truly that awful? Was she so repellent to him that he couldn’t even spare her a second glance? The thought sent a shiver through her, raw and unbearable.

For a fleeting moment, desperation clawed at her insides. She wanted to run after him, to grab his face between her trembling hands and force him to see her—toreallysee her. To kiss him with all the longing that grew exponentially within her each time she saw him, thought of him, or talked to him. To make him feel what she felt, to shatter the distance between them.

But her feet refused to move.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms as she struggled to hold herself together. It was useless. He didn’t want her. He had made that painfully, devastatingly clear.

Slowly, her limbs like lead, she turned back to the bedroom, the weight of unspoken words pressing against her ribs. Herfingers trembled as she shut the door, the soft click sounding so much louder in the suffocating silence. The bed stood before her, pristine, untouched—just like her.

With a strangled breath, she sank onto the mattress, her body folding in on itself. The first sob tore through her, sharp and uncontrollable, and then another, until she was shaking beneath the crushing weight of sorrow. Tears spilled down her cheeks, hot and relentless, soaking into the pillow as she buried her face against it.

She wept like her heart was breaking—because it was.

Because she was playing the part of a beloved wife, married to some celebrity hockey star, and he looked at her like she was nothing; like she was again a disappointment to someone who should have accepted her unconditionally. She had felt like a reject by wanting to be her own person growing up – and now she was an adult – andstillrejected.

Matthieu didn’t even try to broach the space between them. No kiss good night, no hug, and no effort made to cross those lines. They were going to be friends, roommates, and nothing more – just as he originally planned – and had just walked away as if she were nothing at all.

What is wrong with me?

6

MATTHIEU

Matthieu saton the edge of his bed, his hands clenched so tightly between his knees that his knuckles ached, but he barely noticed. His eyes locked onto the bedroom door, unblinking, listening—waiting. The silence of his room pressed against his ribs like a vice, squeezing out the air, leaving him hollow, but he heard her.

How could he not?

Jeannie was crying – not just little tears, either. She was sobbing like her heart was breaking; like her entire universe had crumpled around her, and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to fix this.

The one person he had chosen to be by his side, the one person he had let in past every carefully built wall, the one person he had wanted to share this chaotic, thrilling, uncertain adventure with… was utterly miserable.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath from his lungs.

He had been so happy to see her at the airport. Jeannie looked so beautiful, so whole, so easy-going that his stomach didflip-flops as he watched her unsuspecting profile as she made her way to baggage claim and when her eyes met his?

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