We fall into silence, but my mind won’t stop spinning. What she’s saying echoes too close to what Jaxon told me yesterday. It rattles around in my chest, scraping against the fear I don’t talk about, the fear that if I stop being the guy who does what’s expected—the fighter, the protector, the one who never steps out of line—I’ll lose the only thing keeping my spot on the team.
But hell, doing the right thing, the thing people wanted, never brought my parents back, did it?
The thought rips through me like barbed wire, leaving me raw and aching. I drag my gaze back to Jaylynn. Her face is open, warm, lit by firelight and filled with a concern so genuine it almost undoes me. She wants me to believe I could be more. That I am more. But no one else has ever believed that—not the team, not the coaches, not even me.
I was never even enough for my parents.
But right now, I don’t want to unpack it. Not tonight. Not when the walls between us feel this thin, and I’m one breath away from giving her more of myself than I should.
“Come on.” My voice comes out rougher than I’d like. I stand and hold out a hand, needing to move, to break the heaviness before it swallows me whole. “Let’s go check out the billiards room.”
She hesitates, eyes narrowing like she sees right through me. Like she knows I’m running from something. But then she slips her hand into mine anyway.
Her fingers curl against my palm. Warm. Trusting. And as I lead her into the darkened hall, one thought pulses like a warning I can’t shake?—
Why does she want this for me? Sure, I’m an NHL player, and enforcer, fourth line. Does she need me to be more, to be something else, something better? Something equivalent to mayor?
What if I can’t be what she wants?
17
Jaylynn
I tilt my chin in mock indignation as I tug Penn toward the grand ballroom. “I won, which means we’re doing what I want.”
“You won?” His voice drips with disbelief. “Oh, puleeeze.” He drags the word out with such dramatic flair I almost snort. “What you did doesn’t even qualify as a win.”
I bite back a laugh. “Excuse me? I sunk every single ball, including the black one. That’s literally the definition of winning a game of pool.”
His eyes gleam wickedly. “Every time I lined up a shot, you lifted your shirt and flashed me. That’s called cheating.”
I blink my lashes innocently. “Is it my fault you’re so easily distracted?”
The next thing I know, his hands are on my waist. He hoists me effortlessly into the air, spinning me until I squeal. “Yes,” he growls, grinning up at me. “It’s absolutely your fault.”
My laughter spills out, loud and free, as his lips brush the sensitive curve of my neck. Heat licks through me. God, I love this playful side of Penn—the side that laughs and teases, the side that lets me in. Sure, things got heavier earlier, my words poking at the fears he tries to bury. Fear of not measuring up, fear of being benched, fear of being abandoned all over again. But right now? He’s light. He’s alive. And I ache to keep him here.
When he finally sets me down, I blow a strand of hair from my face. I probably look like a complete mess, but the way his eyes darken as they track me… Yeah, he’s definitely not bothered.
I slip from his arms and dart toward the storage closet, tugging free a dusty box of costumes. “Okay, show time.”
His groan echoes through the room. “You’re not seriously making me do this.”
“Yes,” I say sweetly, dragging out the word. “I won. My rules.”
His shoulders slump like I’ve just sentenced him to death by karaoke. “Jay, I can’t sing.”
“Who cares?” I shake my phone. “I’ll play the music. You just have to…pretend.” With a triumphant flourish, I toss him a white suit jacket from the box. “Here.”
He stares at it like it’s a crime against the fashion world. “Really? You think I can squeeze into this? It’s three sizes too small.”
I cock my head. “Hmm. True.” I dig out another one, slightly bigger but still far from his size. I grin wickedly. “Stuff yourself into this. It’ll be hot.”
“Jesus.”
I pull out the white dress I wore years ago, the one that won’t fit me now either. But I don’t care. “Come on. I want to sing and dance.”
His lips curve into a grin, as he shakes his head. “Fine. But only because I can’t say no to you.”