One Pucking Secret (One Pucking #1)

Chapter 2

Wyatt

“Now that we’re all here, we should get started,” Mark’s friend and supposed PR mastermind, Janelle Kelley, says as she steps into the conference room with the confidence that only someone seasoned in damage control could have in a situation like this.

Mark Turner’s been my agent since my senior year in college, and he’s become the father I never had, so I trust his judgment explicitly. If he says Luminous can repair my image, I believe him. But all I can focus on right now is that Chloe is standing right in front of me for the first time in eight years.

My chest tightens with a cocktail of anticipation and nostalgia. Chloe Reed is like a memory come to life, just as striking as she was on the night that still burns at the edges of my dreams. I hated that we’d only gotten to share one beautiful night together before everything went to hell for me. One night where everything felt right—until it didn’t.

All business and brisk efficiency, her auburn hair catches the light like autumn leaves in a sunset, her eyes—those vivid green pools that once reflected passion—are ice cold as they meet mine. There’s no flicker of recognition, no warmth. It’s as if I’m a stranger, or worse, an inconvenience, as she takes one of the seats at the conference table.

I slump back into my chair, the leather cold against my skin through my shirt.

The room fades to a buzz as names and titles flit around the table, irrelevant. Zach Darling, my best friend and the captain of my team, is here, along with Mark, then Janelle and Chloe. The sting of her dismissal festers, and I grit my teeth.

Does she really not remember me?

Mark begins the meeting with a nod of thanks. “We appreciate Luminous Communication’s help with saving Wyatt’s image,” he says, setting a tone of gratitude but also urgency. “It kills me to see Wyatt’s name get dragged through the mud like this.”

“You know I’m always happy to help, Mark,” Janelle assures him .

Zach returns the sentiment. “Yeah, I hate seeing him go through this. I never imagined something like this would happen to anyone on my team.” His words carry a weight of genuine concern, and I feel more than a twinge of gratitude for his support.

Chloe nods, her hands clasped in front of her on the table. “It would be foolish of me to say it’ll be easy. Especially since social media can be… unforgiving.” It’s an attempt at empathy that falls flat in the sterile room.

My fingers curl into fists beneath the table, knuckles whitening. Sonia’s latest post flashes in my mind. A collage of words and images twisted into a narrative far from truth, a spiteful fiction spun by a woman scorned.

“Unforgiving?” I scoff under my breath, heat creeping up my neck. “Try vindictive.”

Chloe’s eyes sweep over to me, remaining professional yet detached. “Look, if you want to beat the allegations, your best bet is to do what I like to call an image rehab tour. As of right now, the posts the public are seeing are the only proof they need to paint you as a villain—”

“Allegations aren’t proof, nor are they facts,” I interrupt, the words edged with a frustration that has been simmering within me since the first lie was cast .

“But they’re enough to sink careers, Mr. Banks,” she counters.

I shake my head, trying to keep my frustration in check. This whole situation feels ridiculous. Sonia’s theatrics, painting me as the villain—it’s almost laughable. My record on the ice should speak for itself. But instead, I’m stuck in this boardroom when I should be at the rink, relying on everyone to help clean up a mess I didn’t make.

My heart pounds. A metronome set to the tempo of accusation. “I’ve never laid a hand on anyone in anger,” I assert, eyes locked with each skeptic across the conference table. My voice is a steady drumbeat, no hint of the fury that’s churning inside.

“Wyatt’s character is solid. I’ve known him since he was twenty-one, and he’s never touched a drop of alcohol.” Mark nods from his seat beside me, lines of concern etching his weathered face. “That night, Wyatt and his teammates went out to a bar to bond, but he didn’t drink any booze.”

Zach nods. “Sonia showed up uninvited. They had already broken up, but she found out where he was and forced herself into the conversation. She was drunk, belligerent, and refused to leave. ”

Zach continues. “She said she’d drive home, even though she was in no condition to. That’s why Wyatt yelled—he wasn’t going to let her get behind the wheel drunk. He was angry at her manipulation, not because he lost his temper.”

Chloe sits, silent and inscrutable, her pen tapping against the notepad like the ticking of an impatient clock.

“Okay,” Chloe finally says. “We’re giving you the benefit of the doubt, Mr. Banks. But we can’t ignore the optics of this situation.”

“Mr. Banks, Miss Reed will work with you directly on your public image,” Janelle says, gesturing toward Chloe. “She’s our Accounts Director and the best in our department. I couldn’t imagine a better person to take your account.”

The Knights are underdogs. We fight tooth and nail for every scrap of respect and bad press is a luxury we can’t afford.

Mark quickly jumps in. “We’re willing to do whatever it takes,” he assures her. “Right, Wyatt?” His gaze turns to me, expecting agreement.

I nod, forcing a tight smile. “Yeah, whatever it takes,” I say, the words feeling heavier than they should. I’m not thrilled about it, but I know I don’t have much of a choice .

“I think the first order of business will be to release a statement refuting Miss Sonia Drake’s claims as false,” Chloe adds. “Since it’s clear Mr. Banks wouldn’t do something like—” she starts, and her alert eyes quickly dart to mine.

I knew it. She knows exactly who I am.

But what surprises me is how determined she is not to acknowledge it. Maybe I deserve it. Seeing her now, pretending like there’s no history between us, stings more than I expected.

Chloe clears her throat. “I mean, since we have several witnesses who can confirm Mr. Banks’s side of the story.”

Despite the odd satisfaction coursing through me, hearing Sonia’s name still casts a dark cloud over my mood. It’s become a digital ghost haunting me with texts and calls I have no intention of answering. It’s been a month since I donned the Knights’ jersey, a month of dodging the past that clings to me like ice shavings to skates.

“Focus, Wyatt.” Zach’s hushed tone snaps me back. His green eyes are steady under the overhead lights, a lighthouse in the tempest that is this meeting. He knows me—understands the walls I’ve built after too many goodbyes, too many trades that have turned teammates into temporary companions. But he’s different. He’s family, and not just because we share the ice.

“… once we sort that out, this kind of damage requires the most effort on the client’s part, which means Mr. Banks is going to have to step up his game…” Chloe explains to Mark and Zach, but my attention starts to drift again. Her words blend into the background as my mind wanders.

Mark turns to me. “Anything to add, Wyatt?”

“No. As I said before, I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”

Chloe nods. “That’s good enough for me. This will work most smoothly with cooperation.”

As the meeting wraps up, the atmosphere shifts from tense to a less formal conclusion. Zach and Mark stand, joining Chloe in a moment of cordial professionalism. They offer their thanks to her, acknowledging the challenging task ahead. Their movements are swift and purposeful, a clear signal that the official part of the meeting is over. Then, one by one, they exit the room.

“Stay back a moment, will you?” My voice is low, but it cuts through the dissipating hum of conversation as the room empties .

Chloe pauses, her fingers brushing a stray lock of auburn hair behind her ear, an unconscious tell that betrays her composure. She nods, feigning indifference, but I see the slightest crease in her brow.

“Alright,” she concedes, her tone professional, but cool. The door clicks shut behind Janelle and Mark, who are the last to leave. A sudden stillness envelops us—a calm before the storm I’m about to unleash.

“Cut the act,” I say, stepping closer. “You remember me.” It’s not a question. It’s a fact etched into my memory.

She stands her ground, though her eyes flicker, betraying the crack in her armor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chloe replies, but her voice wavers like a poorly tuned violin.

“Come on, Chloe.” I lean in, close enough to catch the scent of her—vanilla and something wild, like a forest after rain. “We both know you’re a terrible liar.”

Her green eyes hold mine, a storm brewing within them, and I swear I see the ghost of that night reflected back at me. “Mr. Banks, this isn’t professional—” she starts, but I don’t let her finish .

“That night,” I cut her off, “it’s not something you forget.”

For a heartbeat, her breath hitches, and I think she might cave. But then she plants her palms against my chest and shoves, not hard, but enough to put distance between us.

“If it was so memorable, I’d remember,” she says, her voice steady now, though the slight tremble in her hands betrays her.

“Fine. Believe what you want,” I reply, stepping back, respecting her fortress of denial—for now. But I can see it in her eyes, the truth flickering beneath the surface, no matter how hard she tries to bury it.

“Let’s just focus on fixing your image,” she says, reclaiming her poise. “Image rehab tour, got it?”

“Image rehab tour,” I repeat. “Got it.” But as she gathers her things, refusing to meet my gaze, I silently vow to myself—I’m not letting her pretend forever. I’ll make her acknowledge our connection, even if it’s the last thing I do.