Page 70 of One Pucking Secret
My phone lights upwith Sonia’s message, the words almost vibrating with impatience.
Sonia: Downstairs.
I thumb the response quickly, adrenaline sharpening each tap on the screen.
Wyatt: I’ll buzz you in.
“She’s in,” I announce to Zach, who’s perched on the edge of the couch like some kind of guardian. His sharp green eyes meet mine, reading the tension that I’m sure is etched into every line of my face. I rake a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly as I try to steady the thunderous beat of my heart.
“Chloe got Alec’s recording,” I add, gripping onto that news like a lifeline. That’s one score for us, but now it’s my turn to take the shot.
Zach rises, his muscles tensed, concern shadowing his expression. “You sure you can do this?” The captain stepping up, even off the ice.
I give him a nod that’s more determination than confidence. “I have no other choice. This isn’t just to clear my name. I’m doing this for Chloe and Jasper.” For the life that we could have—one without lies and manipulations.
“Alright.” Zach claps a hand on my shoulder, a silent pact between brothers-in-arms. “I’ll head into the bedroom and watch the security feed from there. If something happens, I’ll come out.”
“Thanks, man.” A sense of relief flickers through me, knowing Zach has my back.
I let out a small breath, feeling the weight of my earlier suspicions lift. I’m so glad I didn’t accuse him. A pang of regret nudging at me. Deep down, I knew Zach wouldn’t betray me. I was a fool to even doubt it.
Zach gives me a firm nod, his lips pulling into a reassuring smile. “You got this,” he says, clapping my shoulder again before heading toward the bedroom.
The sound of the doorbell slices through the quiet apartment, pulling me toward the inevitable confrontation.
Showtime.
The door swings open, and there she is, Sonia Drake in the flesh—blond curls bouncing with every calculated step, her caramel eyesscanning the room like she’s making sure we’re alone. She’s wearing that practiced look of concern one might mistake for genuine if they didn’t know any better.
“Hey,” I say, my voice rough around the edges, a testament to the sleepless nights that have taken their toll. I feel the weight of this masquerade pressing down on me as I usher her into the living room.
“Is Chloe not here?” Sonia’s voice is smooth, honey-dipped curiosity laced with an edge I know too well.
I let out a sigh, raking a hand through my hair before collapsing onto the couch—a gesture of defeat I’m not accustomed to displaying. “No, she… she left.” The words taste bitter, but I swallow the lie smoothly. “For good.”
Sonia takes a seat beside me, close enough for me to catch the faint scent of her perfume, a mixture of citrus and determination. “I saw your game last week,” she says, tilting her head. “And everything in the press…”
It’s like I can see the script behind her eyes, the one she’s been writing since she first set her sights on me. “Yeah,” I murmur, playing my part. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.” She seems pleased by this, so I continue.
I let out a dramatic exhale. “With everything going on, it’s got me thinking a lot about who should be in my corner. You may have said some things about me online, but I know it’s because you care, and I hurt you.”
“Really?” She adjusts herself to face me.
I nod. “You were just being real when no one else around me was, especially Chloe. It made me realize you’re the one person who understands me the most. I’m sorry for what I put you through.” The lie tastes like ash on my tongue.
Her smile widens, but there’s a predatory gleam in her gaze. “I always knew you’d come back to me,” she coos, placing a hand over mine. It’s warm, soft, and entirely unwelcome.
I shrug off her touch, feigning a shudder of despair. “There’s something else, though.” My voice drops, a leaden whisper as I lean in. “The drug test… The public scrutiny has become too much. I’m thinking about quitting hockey.”
“What?” The word escapes her lips like steam from a pressure valve. “You can’t be serious. Hockey is your dream!”
“Was my dream.” I shake my head, eyes fixed on some unseen point in the distance.
“But now?”
“I’ve been considering that. I think it might be best if I retire while I’m still ahead.”
Panic flickers across her face, a crack in the facade she’s worked so hard to maintain. “Wyatt, you can’t. Think about your career, your fans—”
