Page 20 of Decked, Wrecked and Pucked
I wanted to live it all. I thought I would, but I didn’t, and there’s no real reason why.I just… didn’t move.
Eternal Chapter is my baby. My quiet little slice of heaven, tucked between a coffee shop that never quite gets my order right and a vintage clothing store that always smells like lavender.
Every morning, when I unlock the front door and the old brass bell chimes its familiar welcome, I feel that slight flutter in my chest because there they are—all my literary loves lined up on wooden shelves I stained myself.
In here, between these walls that hold more stories than I’ll ever live, this life doesn’t feel small at all. It feels like exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Imagine a bookstore bathed in every shade of pink and purple you can think of. Soft-blush walls, dusty-rose cushions slumped lovingly into the corner of a cream couch, and a faded lilac rug worn in by customers who caught their boots on the corners. Now imagine those shelves lined with books full of men who don’t just blur the line between right and wrong—they set it on fire. Morally gray men who’d take their time ruining you, then make you crawl back and beg for more with your legs still shaking. And all of them, stacked neatly against pastel-pink shelving like filth disguised as fairy tales.
My phone sits on the desk, practically taunting me, daring me to do something I never have before and break the one promise Imade to myself when Jasper, Roman, and Zeke left: no looking them up online.
Cold turkey worked until now, but with the ceremony looming, the temptation to learn everything about them claws at my throat. I need to be prepared. I need to know if they’re married, engaged, or happy without me in their life.
My finger lingers over the purple social media icon when the doorbell chimes, making me jump like I’ve been caught watching porn in church.
Maybe it’s divine intervention or the universe saving me from myself. Either way, I focus on Bing Crosby’s voice drifting through the speakers instead of my racing heart.
I take a breath, flatten down my sweater, and when I finally lift my head, I find three sets of eyes focused on me.
The world grinds to a halt around me, and all I can think is how badly I wish I looked hotter, because this bookstore gremlin situation is definitely not how I imagined my hockey boys seeing me for the first time after all these years.
Zeke’s eyes hit me first—deep emerald green that are still so soft it guts me. There’s no resentment there, no distance, just that same devastating gentleness that always made me want to fall apart in his arms.
Jasper’s gaze follows—dark brown and burning, sharp enough to slice through me, yet somehow he still feels like the safest place I’ve ever known. He stands with that same confidence he’s always had, like he knows exactly what he does to me.
And then there’s Roman.
Roman, whose amber eyes have darkened into something almost molten now, rich gold catching the wall lights like fire. His black T-shirt clings to his chest beneath the open coat, and I catch glimpses of tattoos I don’t recognize crawling up his neck and disappearing beneath his collar.He stares at me as if five yearsaway from each other didn’t dent the hunger he once had for me, but that hurt… I still see it in his eyes.
They aren’t boys anymore.
They’re men now.
Men who didn’t just survive without me, they thrived. It’s there in the set of their shoulders and how they own every inch of space they occupy without even trying. Meanwhile, I’m standing behind the counter of a pink bookstore, clutching a half-cold cup of cocoa, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to survive this.
As Jasper steps forward, the smallest smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and my heart stutters in my chest.
“Hey, angel,” he says, his voice so heartbreakingly familiar it knocks the ground right out from under me. “It’s been a while.”
CHAPTER
SEVEN
ZEKE
Once we were backin Colorado, it took us less than five minutes to figure out where to find Addison. Not that we needed to dig too deep—we’ve all kept tabs on her over the years.
Waiting until the award ceremony to see her was never going to happen. The three of us were wound too tight. We knew it’d be better to break the ice now, on our terms, than to play out our reunion in front of half the town on her father’s night.
Of course, there was always the very real possibility that Addison wouldn’t give a flying shit that we were here. She’s married now and supposedly happy with the kind of simple, uncomplicated life her father always wanted for her.
The good daughter who fell in line.
But I know better the moment those navy eyes collide with mine.
Addison was always an open book to those who knew how to read her, and five years haven’t changed that. Every emotion plays across her face like a movie I can’t look away from.
Lost.
