Page 83 of The Hockey Contract

"What is this?" I demanded, holding up the papers.

He turned, expression calm but cautious. "Exactly what it looks like. Your loan is cleared as agreed. The development fund is... additional."

"We didn't discuss a development fund." My voice wavered between gratitude and indignation. "This is way beyond our arrangement, Jax."

"I know."

"Then why?" I stepped closer, needing to understand. "Is this a way to ease your conscience about the divorce? A parting gift to the fake wife?"

His expression hardened slightly. "Is that what you think of me? That I'd use money to manipulate emotions?"

"I don't know what to think anymore!" The words burst out louder than intended. "You're sending mixed signals. The extravagant gifts, the surprise trips, the way you look at me sometimes... then you bring up the contract and the arrangement like you're counting down the days until it's over."

"That's not—"

"We kiss, Jax," I interrupted, tears threatening despite my best efforts. "We kiss, and then we never talk about it. We pretend for the cameras, but then you hold my hand when no one's watching. What am I supposed to think?"

He took a step toward me, his expression intense. "What do you want to think, Sienna? What do you want this to be?"

The direct question caught me off guard. What did I want? The answer was both simple and terrifying.

"I don't know how to separate the performance from reality anymore," I admitted, my voice breaking. "I don't know if what I'm feeling is real or just... a product of proximity and pretending."

Tears spilled over, tracking down my cheeks as weeks of confusion and suppressed emotion finally broke through my careful control. Jax moved forward instantly, his hands coming up to cradle my face, thumbs gently wiping away the moisture.

"This is real," he said softly, his eyes holding mine with unwavering intensity. "This—us—it stopped being pretend for me weeks ago."

Before I could process his confession, his lips were on mine, the kiss different from our others—raw, honest, born of genuine emotion rather than calculated performance. I melted into him, arms wrapping around his neck as his encircled my waist, pulling me flush against his solid warmth.

The kiss deepened, his tongue seeking entrance I willingly granted, the taste of him familiar yet thrilling. One of his hands tangled in my hair while the other splayed across my lower back, holding me as if afraid I might disappear.

When we finally broke apart, both breathless, he rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed as if gathering courage.

"I love you," he whispered, the words hanging between us like a fragile, precious thing. "I didn't expect it. Didn't want it. But it happened anyway."

I opened my mouth to respond—to echo his declaration, to confirm the feelings that had been growing inside me for weeks—when his phone rang with Coach Miller's distinctive ringtone. The sound shattered our bubble of intimacy, reality intruding with cruel timing.

"You need to take that," I said, reluctantly stepping back from his embrace. "It could be important with playoffs."

Conflict played across his features—duty warring with desire—before he nodded reluctantly and answered the call. His expression shifted immediately to concern.

"When did it happen?... How bad?... Yes, I'll be there in twenty." He hung up, frustration evident in the tense line of his shoulders. "Emergency team meeting. Nichols took a bad hit in training. They think his playoffs might be over."

The news was serious—Nichols was a key forward, essential to their power play. As much as I wanted to continue our conversation, to explore the confession he'd just made, I understood the reality of playoff hockey.

"Go," I said, managing a small smile. "We'll talk when you get back."

He stepped forward to kiss me once more—brief but full of promise—before grabbing his keys and heading for the door. The look he gave me before leaving conveyed everything words couldn't in that moment.

I stood in the suddenly quiet living room, heart racing, lips still tingling from his kiss, his declaration echoing in my mind.

I love you. I didn't expect it. Didn't want it. But it happened anyway.

My fingers traced the necklace he'd given me weeks ago—the gift I'd questioned but never returned, the symbol of something evolving between us long before either of us was brave enough to name it.

Chapter 29: Jax

The emergency team meeting confirmed our worst fears. Nichols had torn his ACL and MCL in a freak training accident, ending his season. The mood in the conference room was somber—we were two games into the conference finals, and losing our top-scoring winger created a massive hole in our lineup.

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