Page 53 of One Pucking Secret
“Thank you, Wyatt.” Her gratitude is a soft whisper followed by the press of her lips to mine, a thank you note written in the language of touch.
“Anytime,” I murmur against her mouth. And I mean it. Anytime, anything, for her.
Chloe retreats to the bedroom to get dressed in her own clothes, so I take out my phone and secure a ride for her on the app. Her ride will be here in only a few minutes. Perfect.
When Chloe returns, it appears she’s tamed the wild strands of hair and freshened up with a swipe of coral lipstick. My heart melts at the sight of her. Suddenly, all the hesitancy and doubt I’ve been clinging to dissipates.
“Well, if you look like that, then I can’t let you leave,” I tease, bringing my lips to hers.
Her playful smirk says it all as she glances at me, not even bothering to respond. Instead, she adjusts her bag on her shoulder, ready to go.
“Your ride will be downstairs any minute.”
She nods, turning toward the door, but before she makes it, I catch her wrist, pulling her back for one more kiss. It’s deep and lingering, wiping away the lipstick as it seals the unspoken promise between us.
I’m falling, not just for Chloe, but for the possibility—the hope—of us, a makeshift family unit with Jasper at its heart.
“See you later,” she whispers, her voice carrying the weight of uncharted futures.
“Later,” I echo, watching her silhouette blend with the light as she steps out, leaving me alone with the ghost of her presence and a heart full of intentions.
Just then, my phone buzzes again in my pocket, and I pull it out to see Mark’s name flashing on the screen. I swipe to answer, my voice taut. “You’re going to want to take a look at social media right now,” he says, his tone curt and foreboding.
“What now?” I reply, pressing the speaker button and scroll through the feeds.
“Sonia’s latest stunt,” Mark says, voice edged with frustration. “The team’s already workingto dispute it and see if we can get the article taken down, but it’s spreading fast.”
As I scroll down, I see it—an image of Jasper and me at the rink, caught in a private, candid moment that was never meant for public consumption. Jasper’s wide smile, his eyes bright with joy, and me, grinning right back at him. And there, slapped under it, is the headline: “Wyatt Banks: From Ice King to Daddy Cool?”
Mark sighs. “They’re trying to paint you as some ‘doting dad’ looking for a redemption arc. And Sonia’s adding fuel, telling anyone who’ll listen that you’d threatened her over kids.”
I grip the edge of the counter, my knuckles white. They don’t know Jasper, his laugh, his love for sports, the way he scrunches his nose in concentration, or how he shyly tucks his hair behind his ear—just like Chloe. He’s not just a headline or some tool for their clickbait. He’s more than that. He’s my son.
“Fuck,” I whisper. “I can’t believe she’s dragged him into this.”
Mark’s voice softens. “Look, man, take a minute to cool off. We’re handling it from our end, but I wanted you to hear it straight from me before it gets worse.”
“Thanks, Mark,” I mutter, swallowing the rage. I end the call, feeling the weight of anger and protectiveness twist inside me. My heart hammers as I look down at the screen, Jasper’s face filling it, smiling up at me, unaware of the storm swirling around him.
My phone lights up again, and this time it’s Zach. I ignore the call and, instead, pull up Chloe’s contact. “Pick up, please,” I murmur, but the line keeps ringing, indifferent to my plea.
A decision crystallizes amid the turmoil. I can’t let this fester, can’t wait for digital judgments to cement into something uglier. I need to see her and make sure she’s okay.
The door slams behind me more forcefully than I intended, my resolve propelling me toward Chloe’s apartment. Each step is weighted with the gravity of what’s at stake—our future, our family unit that’s barely begun to take shape.
Chapter 19
Chloe
I sit across fromJanelle, the tension thick enough to slice through. Her eyes narrow, reflecting a storm of fury that sends a chill down my back.
“Chloe,” she begins, her voice clipped. “What’s going on with Wyatt? This article… it’s everywhere. You need to explain.”
My throat goes dry as I swallow hard, fighting the urge to shrink under her gaze. “It’s true,” I admit, feeling the weight of my confession settle heavily in the air between us. “Jasper is Wyatt’s son.”
The silence stretches out, a taut wire ready to snap.
“Is that why you hesitated to take him on?” Janelle leans forward, intensity radiating from her. “It wasn’t because you were a fan?”
