Library
Home / Pucking Never / Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

GRACE

At the next team practice, I’m feeling calmer about interacting with Jensen again, but I’m still afraid of the awkwardness that will undoubtedly be there. I’m just glad he doesn’t have my number, otherwise I’m sure I’d have gotten a pissed off phone call from him by now.

I intentionally get to the area a few minutes after practice is supposed to start so there’s no chance of Jensen and I running into each other beforehand. Just as I hoped, by the time I arrive, the team is already on the ice, paying attention as the coach gives his marching orders.

This is the team’s last practice before their next game, so things are more intense and their coach isn’t giving them any slack. As they move across the ice, running drills and plays, I try to focus my attention and camera on Carson, but I keep stealing glances Jensen’s way. He’s looking good, even in his hockey gear, and I hate how my heart races as I watch him.

Suddenly, he looks over at me and I quickly jerk my gaze away, my cheeks heating in mortification. I return my attention to Carson, trying my best to look nonchalant, but I can feel Jensen’s eyes still on me, a weighty stare that makes me twitchy.

He skates by me but doesn’t say anything, and I do my best to ignore him. When he skates by me again, I start to grow suspicious that he’s trying to get my attention, but I force my eyes to remain locked on my camera’s screen. When he starts to dart in and out of my video, I clench my teeth in irritation.

What the hell is he doing?

“Reece!” the coach barks. “Stop messing around! Get into position.”

Ignoring the coach's order, Jensen continues his peculiar zigzag pattern across my field of view. I lower my camera, finally giving in and meeting his challenging gaze.

"What do you think you're doing?" I mouth at him, feeling my cheeks flush again. Jensen just grins, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. He taps a gloved finger to his helmet then points at me.

I roll my eyes.

“After practice,” I mouth silently, not wanting to draw anymore attention to myself.

He nods, appearing satisfied and returns to his position before the coach rips him a new asshole.

I continue to film for the rest of practice, my heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and anticipation at the thought of talking to Jensen. I’m nervous now that I’ve accepted the fact that I want him. I still don’t really know what to say to him, but I remember Skyler’s words about giving him a chance and know I have to be honest with him about what I’m feeling. Practice ends and the team files out of the rink. I pack up my equipment slowly, dreading what's about to come.

Sure enough, Jensen is waiting for me near the exit, leaning against the wall, still partially dressed in his practice gear. He’s abandoned his helmet, gloves, and skates, but he’s still an imposing figure, even in his stocking feet with his sweaty hair plastered against his forehead.

“Hey,” I say, looking around to make sure no one is around to overhear us. “Maybe we should wait until we’re somewhere a little more private before talking.” I don’t want to risk anyone else walking by when I tell him what I’ve decided about us.

He chuckles and replies, “Hello to you too, beautiful. Don’t worry. I just have something for you.”

He holds out a hand and I realize he has a jersey clutched in his fingers. I frown, confused as I reach out to take it. I hold it up and see that it has his last name and jersey number on the back.

“What is this for?” I ask, glancing up at him.

“For you to wear at the game,” he explains with a shrug. “So you look like part of the team.”

I stare at him, stunned. I’d expected him to rip into me about leaving him without a word the other morning, but instead, he’s giving me his jersey. I don’t really know how to feel in this moment other than confusion.

Before I can come up with some sort of response, Carson suddenly appears, popping out of the locker room and looking around like a groundhog. He spots us, frowns in confusion before making his way down to us.

“Hey, what are you two doing?” he asks as he reaches us. His eyes dart between us, clearly confused.

“Oh, we were just… talking,” I stammer.

He looks down at Jensen’s jersey clutched in my hands.

Glancing back up at Jensen, he asks, “Bro, why’d you give my sister your jersey?”

My heart hammers as I momentarily panic, wondering how to explain this. Jensen, though, is much quicker on the draw than I am.

“I thought she could wear it to the game,” he says with an easy shrug. “Since it’s away, she should wear our colors so people know she’s there for us.”

Carson shakes his head, clearly baffled. “How’s that make sense? Shouldn’t she get my jersey?”

“Dude, why would she want to wear her brother’s jersey to the game?” Jensen scoffs.

Carson blinks at that, looking taken aback.

“Yeah, but still…” My brother trails off, still visibly befuddled.

Jensen chuckles and claps Carson on the shoulder. "Don’t overthink it, my guy. I was just trying to be nice.”

Carson shoots me a look, which I deflect with an innocent shrug.

“All right,” he murmurs with a slow nod. He seems more confused than suspicious. “Cool. I’m gonna go shower.”

Once he’s gone, Jensen turns back to me, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“That was fun,” he says nonchalantly, but I can hear the undercurrent of excitement in his voice. “So, will you wear it?”

I give him a pointed look. “Are you kidding? After that performance? I would be crazy not to.” It would only make Carson more suspicious if I showed up not wearing the jersey and I’d have to come up with some sort of excuse, and it would just get unnecessarily complicated from there.

His eyes light up at that and he smiles broadly. “I thought you might say that.”

I roll my eyes. “Aren’t you playing it a little fast and loose? Carson’s going to get suspicious if you keep doing this kind of thing.”

Jensen just shrugs, his grin not wavering in the slightest.

“He’s bound to eventually find out how crazy about you I am, anyway. Might as well have fun with it in the meantime.”

I blink and stare at him for a long moment before I finally manage to squeak out, “Oh, well… we, uh, still need to be careful. If he finds out before we have a chance to tell him, he’ll be so angry.”

“Don’t worry,” he assures me, his expression softening. “I know we need to be careful. It’s just a jersey.”

I sigh and shake my head, but before I can say anything in response, he reaches out and tugs gently at the bag slung over my shoulder. "Besides," he adds in a softer tone, "you look good in my colors."

"Don’t you mean my brother’s colors?" I tease.

"Doesn't matter." His eyes sparkle with mischief. "I know you'll rock it."

As much as I hate to admit it, I feel a little flutter in my stomach at his words. "All right, well..." I say, adjusting the bag on my shoulder and making a move towards the exit. "I'll see you tomorrow. At the game."

I don’t tell him that I’ll be staying in the same hotel as the team. Carson insisted, not wanting me to travel home by myself after the game. He’s arranged the entire trip for me as part of his entourage, and while I technically can’t actually go with the team, my protective brother wants to keep me close.

Jensen blinks at that and then smiles broadly again. "Looking forward to it," he replies.

I turn to leave, but he reaches out and wraps his hand around my wrist, tugging me back to him. Before I realize what is happening, he cups the side of my face and pulls me in for a deep kiss. I gasp, my lips parting and he takes the opportunity to sweep his tongue inside to tangle with mine. Just as I begin to melt against him, he pulls back and gazes down at me with a grin.

“If I didn’t have to be ready so early in the morning, I’d drag you home right now and fuck you senseless,” he murmurs before letting me go.

Breathless, I stare up at him a moment before turning and hurrying down the hall. As I walk away, I can feel his gaze on me but I don't look back. I never expected things to go this far. I never expected Jensen to try so hard to prove to me that he was different from the other hockey guys I knew growing up. This wasn’t supposed to be so serious or so intense, but it now is all starting to feel dangerously real.

As the teams skate out onto the ice, I’m acutely aware of the fact that I’m wearing Jensen’s jersey. I feel self-conscious, especially when a group of girls in the stands below me wearing Night Hawk jerseys start screaming and losing their minds when Jensen’s name is announced. My stomach twists and I feel a pang deep in my belly thinking of all the women that must throw themselves at him. Regardless of the irrational jealousy running through me, Jensen has never given me a reason to doubt his intentions. Wearing his jersey only helps solidify this new feeling that I’m completely not used to — the feeling of being his. Shaking my head, I force the thoughts aside and try to focus as the game begins.

Sadly, the game is a disaster. I’m not sure how it happens. One moment, the Night Hawks are cutting across the ice, in absolute control of the game, and the next, it becomes utter chaos. From the first whistle onward, the battle between both teams is painful to watch. The Night Hawks fight tooth and nail for possession, bodies crashing against the boards in pursuit of the puck. Every inch of ice is contested fiercely, neither side willing to give an inch.

Despite their efforts, the Night Hawks find themselves trailing by a goal early on. The opposing team's offense is relentless, firing shots at the Night Hawks' net with precision, and Carson is struggling to keep up. He makes some incredible saves, but the pressure is relentless.

As the game wears on, tensions boil over, and the physicality escalates. Checks become more aggressive, and players exchange heated words as they jostle for position. The referees struggle to maintain control as penalties pile up on both sides. I can tell that Jensen is growing increasingly frustrated as the game goes on, and it seems like only a matter of time before things boil over.

Eventually, that’s exactly what happens. It starts with a shove, after a particularly aggressive check along the boards between Jensen and an opposing player. Words are exchanged, and tempers flare as they begin pushing each other. The crowd erupts, sensing the impending clash.

They’re soon dropping their gloves and clenching their fists. Jensen and his opponent circle each other, then, in a blur of motion, they collide, fists flying in a flurry of punches. Each blow seems to echo through the arena and are met with a chorus of cheers and gasps from the crowd.

The referees rush in, trying to separate the two players, but the men seem determined to kill each other. Both teams join in to try and pull the two apart. It takes several moments of frantic struggle before they’re finally separated, both players breathing heavily, faces streaked with sweat and blood.

The referee is blowing his whistle furiously, trying to restore some semblance of order, but the whole atmosphere in the rink has shifted; it’s raw and wild and I have a sickening feeling in my stomach. It’s not just about the fight. It’s the sight of Jensen, blood dripping from his nose and a cut over his eye, looking furious and feral.

I can’t sit still anymore. I make my way down from the press box towards the rink as quickly as I can, all the while staring at Jensen being dragged away by his teammates. His eyes meet mine briefly before he’s led off the ice.

Under his fury, he looks tired. And hurt.

I try to shake off my worry as I reach the entrance to the players’ tunnel. I’m not allowed there during games, technically, but right now rules don’t seem important as anxiety bubbles up within me. How hurt is he?

He must feel my gaze because he turns back, winces a little, and then offers me a weak smile. That action somehow makes me feel worse.

“All good,” he mouths to me before disappearing into the locker room.

I’m left standing there in shock, amidst all the chaos. The game continues but it sounds muted, distant. All I can think of is that look on Jensen’s face — that grimace masked with a reassuring smile.

I stay rooted to the spot until the second period buzzer sounds. The rest of the Night Hawks rush into their locker room, all looking grim and frustrated. Carson passes by without noticing me; his mind clearly occupied with thoughts about remedying their faltering game. It’s only then that I wonder what he thinks about how I ran after Jensen. Did he notice? Maybe he was too distracted by what was happening on the ice? Still, I completely dropped my guard because I was so worried about Jensen.

Eventually, I gather my composure and head back up to my post in the press box for the third period. The team returns and the game resumes but my heart is not in it. The flurry of movement on the ice is just a blur. I keep glancing at Jensen, who has thankfully returned to the ice. His mood is back up and he’s playing like himself, but I’m still worried about him. The image of him taking hits in that fight keeps playing through my mind.

The final buzzer sounds with the Night Hawks losing by two goals. I chew on my bottom lip nervously as I watch the team make their way back to the tunnel.

Despite the loss, they seem in decent spirits, which is strangely comforting. Still, I make up my mind that I need to check on Jensen to see for myself that he’s okay. I can’t do it now, but later, back at the hotel. Once I see for myself that he’s fine, this anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach will go away.

Comments

0 Comments
Best Newest

Contents
Settings
  • T
  • T
  • T
  • T
Font

Welcome to FullEpub

Create or log into your account to access terrific novels and protect your data

Don’t Have an account?
Click above to create an account.

lf you continue, you are agreeing to the
Terms Of Use and Privacy Policy.