Page 38 of Pucks, Lies, and Sticktape

Jeannie felt something shift inside her. It wasn’t just the words; it was everything behind them. He was saying it aloud for himself – and for her. He wasn’t just asking her to stay.

He waschoosingher.

Her throat tightened as she stared up at him, drinking in every detail—the way his lashes cast shadows over his cheekbones, the tension in his jaw, the raw vulnerability in his eyes. He wasn’t saying everything she longed to hear, but in hisown way, he was laying down the foundation for something she never thought she’d have.

A future.

A chance…

With him.

“You’re not leaving me,” Matthieu breathed against her lips, his voice low, intense, searing.

Her breath hitched, her body arching toward him as her eyes fluttered shut.

“Never leave me…”

“Never,” she vowed, clutching him as though letting go would mean losing him forever.

Matthieu’s lips ghosted over hers, teasing, barely there, and then?—

“Mine,” he whispered, the word reverberating through her like a promise, a claim, a prayer.

Then he kissed her.

Fiercely.

Desperately.

Her knees buckled under the weight of it, but he was there, holding her up, and anchoring her to him. His mouth moved over hers with aching intensity, pouring every ounce of fear, love, and longing into this moment.

Jeannie melted against him, her own need rising to meet his as her hands fisted into his shirt, tugging him closer, needing more, needing everything.

Matthieu wrapped his arms around her, enclosing her in a warmth she never wanted to leave. A breathless chuckle escaped between them as they pulled apart, only to come together again, their laughter tangled with the taste of shared relief, of unspoken promises.

She was his.

8

JEANNIE

Jeannie woketo the soft glow of dawn seeping through the curtains, a warmth curling through her chest that had nothing to do with the blankets wrapped around her. Something had changed between her and Matthieu last night, something profound and unspoken but undeniably real. He had kissed her, held her, and together, they had unraveled their hearts in whispers that stretched long into the night. There had been no pretense, no hesitation—just hands clasped together, laughter shared, and secrets laid bare.

It had been beautiful.

As she dressed, a familiar, rich scent drifted through the air—coffee. A smile tugged at her lips. Matthieu was already up. She reached for the door, about to step out and join him when the sound of his voice gave her pause. It carried from the kitchen, low and urgent, laced with a determination that sent a shiver through her.

“I need this to be a big thing, and that’s why I’m calling so early, Salas,” Matthieu was saying. “I need Jamie’s help to pull this off, and I don’t want the coach to flip—but this has to happen during our next game.”

Jeannie’s breath caught. She hesitated, fingers tightening on the doorframe as she listened.

“I want everything—and I want it on television so anyone can see it.” His voice was steady, resolute.

Her heart pounded as she stared at his back, taking in the way his damp hair had been finger-combed into place, still tousled from his shower. The bright blue T-shirt stretched taut across his shoulders, the stark white slash of the Wolverines logo standing out against the fabric.

Was he… arranging their ‘renewal’ to make sure her parents saw it? A public wedding?

She barely had time to process the thought before the door swung open abruptly, and there he was, leaning in with a mischievous grin that made her heart skip.

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