Page 3 of Pucks, Lies, and Sticktape

“I’m scared.”

“Take my keys and get in the car,” he whispered firmly, his bright blue eyes holding hers – almost like he was trying to communicate something to her… and to her disbelief, his eyes softened slightly as he looked at her. “Please, Jeannie. Get in the car and call Katie.”

What?

He wanted her to call his sister from his car?

Who was this guy, this stranger?

His eyes were holding hers, soft yet unyielding, and he was holding Jim’s wrist with a grip of iron, the muscles and tendons in his forearms flexing slightly. She nodded distractedly, stuck her hand in his pocket trying not to swoon at how warm the fabric was or how intimate this felt, and took the keys. She stared in disbelief at the emblem on the key in her hand.

The dude drove a Bentley?

Why was he here of all places?

“Go,” he said simply, giving her a curt nod, and struggled slightly as Jim was shoving back the table trying to stand up… and her angel blocked him. His stance widened, feet apart, as he leaned over the other man preventing him from reaching her.“I’ve got you,” he said quietly. “Call Katie from the car, and I’ll be there in a few.”

“Mary! Call the police!” Jim squawked. “This guy is…”

“This guy is gonna teach you some manners,” her angel answered, turning back and focusing on the other man – and Jeannie turned in what felt like slow motion.

Her eyes met Rex’s worried ones filled with pity, and Mary’s cool gaze, steady gaze. The woman was not happy about the disturbance in her diner, which made Jeannie feel almost violently sick as it clicked in her head. How many people had been in her shoes? How many other girls had this happened to? The pity in Rex’s eyes told her that she wasn’t the first to deal with this, and she wouldn’t be the last.

She yanked off her apron, unable to say a word, and took the chance that this stranger was offering her. Tossing it on the counter, she started out the door, and sure enough, there was a Bentley parked off to the side. Clicking the remote, she slid into the driver’s seat, refusing to be a captive, and started the car.

The idea of driving off was almost overwhelming – but instead – she opened up the phone listings on the radio, realizing the guy must be close enough for his phone to pick up. Seeing ‘Katie’ on the display, she punched it. She had no clue who this girl was, no clue who this guy was. All she knew was at this moment, she needed someone, anyone, she could trust and was scared.

Jeannie’s hands trembled as she gripped the steering wheel, her breath shallow and ragged. The weight of everything that had just happened pressed heavily on her chest. She could see him through the window, his posture stiff, his hands moving in sharp, deliberate gestures as he confronted someone inside.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. What was he saying? Who was he talking to? And why had he left her out here like a lost child clutching a lifeline she barely understood?

She swallowed hard. The line rang once before a cheerful voice answered, oblivious to the chaos unraveling on Jeannie’s end.

“Two times this week?” The young girl on the other end teased, her voice light and teasing. “Stop it, nerd, or I might think that all those times you called me a dork were pretend, Matthieu.”

Jeannie’s breath hitched, and when she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and broken. “Hello?”

A pause.

Then confusion.

“Hello?” The girl—Katie—repeated before a sharp intake of breath. “MOOOMMMM!” Her scream pierced the silence of the car, making Jeannie wince. “Momma, c’mere! MOM! OH MY GOSH, MOMMMM—MATTHIEU’S BEEN IN A WRECK AND SOME GIRL IS CALLING FROM HIS PHONE…!”

“No!” Jeannie gasped, panic tightening around her throat. “He’s not—he’s not in a wreck. He’s helping me—I think—and I don’t know what’s going on or…” Her voice cracked, the fear pressing down on her chest like a crushing weight. She looked back toward the diner window just in time to see Matthieu’s expression twist with fury as he pointed a finger at someone unseen. Was it Jim? Her boss? Someone worse?

“What? Where’s the big hockey nerd ?” Katie demanded, her voice laced with worry.

“Inside my job…” Jeannie whispered.

“Hold on. Momma? Momma, come here and hurry - I’m in over my head,” Katie muttered before a shuffle sounded over the speakers, a brief rustling before another voice entered the call—older, more measured, but no less alarmed.

“What’s going on, Katie…?”

“Some girl is on Matthieu’s phone and?—”

“What? Put it on speaker, honey… Hello? Hello? I’m Donna—who’s this, and where is my son?”

Jeannie’s throat tightened as a fresh wave of emotion slammed into her. A mother’s voice. Concerned, frantic, filled with an urgency Jeannie had never heard in her own parents’ words. A sob tore from her throat as she clutched the steering wheel tighter, blinking furiously against the burning in her eyes.

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