Page 32 of One Pucking Secret
Just as I’m about to dive back into work, my phone buzzes against the wooden surface of my desk, and Wyatt’s name flashes on the screen. A surge of warmth floods through me as I unlock my phone to find a series of texts from him.
Wyatt: Connecticut isn’t so bad. Look what I found.
Attached is a photo of a fancy latte from a local coffee shop, foam art perfectly swirled on top.
Wyatt: And, of course, we stay sharp on the ice.
Another text follows with a goofy selfie of him and his teammates during practice, their helmets tilted at odd angles.
I can’t help but smile. Maybe I’ve been overthinking things. Before I can respond, another message pops up.
Wyatt: I made a few posts.
Chloe: Glad that you’re keeping up with the posts.
Wyatt: I’ve gotta listen to my PR expert. So, I think it’s time for some answers. What’s your favorite ice cream?
I giggle, typing back quickly, feeling a bit of tension melt away.
Chloe: Oh, it’s like that, huh? Okay, chocolate.
Wyatt: Beach vacation or mountain getaway?
Chloe: Beach, all the way. Sand between my toes.
Wyatt: Knew it. Sweet or salty snacks?
Chloe: Sweet. Your turn now—favorite movie?
His response comes through almost immediately:
Wyatt: Good choice! Favorite movie? Easy. The Mighty Ducks, obviously.
Chloe: Predictable.
Another buzz. This time, it’s a selfie of him, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. The sight of him makes me smile, a much-needed reprieve from the chaos of the day.
Wyatt: That one’s just for you.
Chloe: Thank you.
For a moment, I let myself enjoy it—the playfulness, the connection. But beneath the surface, the reality of what I haven’t told him looms large. One truth withheld, and all of this could come crashing down.
Wyatt: Anytime. Catch you later, Chloe.
Chloe: Looking forward to it.
As I set my phone down, my heart still buzzing from our exchange, I finish my workday in a flurry, surprisingly without any more mishaps. It’s funny how just a few texts from Wyatt can turn my entire day around. The weight of everything that went wrong earlier seems to lift, leaving only the warmth of his words behind.
A few hours pass as I wrap up my tasks, double-check some emails, and finish organizing for the next work day. The office finally quiets down, allowing me to clear my head. I gather my things and leave work, excited at the prospect of an evening to myself.
When I step through my front door, I kick off my shoes and head straight for my bedroom to change into my most comfortable oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants—a matching pair in lilac that Lainey had gifted me for my birthday last year. I pull my hair up into a messy high ponytail and make my way to the kitchen to treat myself to some chocolate ice cream while I figure out my dinner plans.
Grabbing the tub of ice cream from the freezer, I pop off the lid and scoop a spoonful. Jasper would definitely give me a lecture if he saw me eating straight from the container, but some indulgences are worth keeping to myself. Just as I’m savoring the sweetness, the gentle tap of my spoon against the counter is interrupted by a knock at the door.
I shuffle across the cool tile floor in my socks and pull the door open. My heart leaps into my throat when I see who’s standing there. Wyatt. Holding a takeout bag. The corners of my mouth lift before I even realize it, but panic quickly takes over.
Without thinking, I slam the door shut.
