One Pucking Secret (One Pucking #1)

Chapter 13

Chloe

Nerves coil tight in my chest, refusing to loosen no matter how many deep breaths I take. Wyatt knows. Jasper is his. And today, we’re meeting to finally talk about it.

The cafe hums with the mid-morning rush—clinking cups, quiet conversations—but it all feels distant, like white noise beneath the storm of thoughts racing through my mind. I’m already seated, absently stirring my coffee, watching the swirls as if they could somehow offer clarity. My heart pounds, heavy and erratic, a reminder of the conversation that’s about to change everything.

Wyatt strides in, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, a force field of tension wrapped around him. His familiar build stands out in the sea of strangers, moving with a confidence that doesn’t reach his eyes as he removes his sunglasses in search of me. It’s been five days since we last spoke, but I didn’t realize how much I’d longed to see him until now.

When he spots me, there’s a moment—a flicker of something crosses his face before it’s gone, like a shadow chased away by the sun.

“Chloe,” he greets, voice steady but cool as he takes the seat across from me.

“Thanks for coming, Wyatt.” My words feel brittle, threatening to shatter. “I know this isn’t easy.”

“How’s Jasper doing?” His jaw tightens, the muscles working there betraying the calm exterior.

“Jasper’s doing well.”

“Good.” Wyatt shifts in his seat. “Let’s get this over with.”

“When you and I slept together, I told you I was on the pill. I wasn’t lying about that. I just want to make that clear.”

“Sure.” He nods. “Go on.”

I peer down at my hands on the table. I’ve thought about this day for so long, imagined how it would go probably dozens of times. But all that visualizing has done little to make the real thing easier.

Clearing my throat, I sit upright. “I was on antibiotics that week, so my birth control was ineffective.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “You could have told me that when you realized.”

“You left.” My words come out harsher than I intend. “How was I supposed to know you wanted anything to do with me? I tried calling. Multiple times. I got through to your agent once, but you never called back.”

Wyatt leans back in his seat. He seems like he’s piecing everything together rather than conjuring up something to say, so I continue.

“The day I decided to keep Jasper was the day you got drafted. By then, it felt too late to tell you. I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to get child support out of you.” My gaze shifts to the window, the busy LA streets calm compared to the tumult inside of me. “Besides, I knew how hard you worked for that. I didn’t want to ruin everything you worked for by bringing a baby into your life.”

“That wasn’t your choice to make. And what about your life?”

I turn back to Wyatt. “Aside from you, I’m the hardest working person I know. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I was determined to accomplish my career goals and raise Jasper alone. My parents were supportive, despite their initial disappointment in me when I told them I didn’t know who the father was. ”

Wyatt sighs, his hands running through his hair. The tension in the room shifts, but I can’t tell if he’s softening or if he’s just trying to process everything.

“There’s more,” I say softly, my throat tightening. “When we reconnected, I wanted to tell you, but… seeing you again, seeing how you were living, I didn’t think there was a place for Jasper in your life. You’re this big hockey star, and I didn’t want to mess things up for you, for him. It felt like opening that door would ruin everything—for all of us.”

Wyatt’s eyes darken, the weight of my words sinking in. His voice is low when he speaks. “You should have told me. The second you saw me again. I had a right to know.”

“I know. But I was terrified you’d reject him. I didn’t want Jasper to get hurt if you didn’t want anything to do with him. And…” My voice cracks slightly as I look back out the window, finding it easier to speak without seeing his eyes. “I was also trying to protect him. Your image, Wyatt—it was under fire. You were being dragged through the mud with scandals, whispers, public judgment. I didn’t want that darkness touching Jasper. He’s still innocent. I didn’t want the world to find out about him and tear his life apart. ”

The pain in Wyatt’s expression deepens, his lips pressed into a thin line. His anger lingers, but I can see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between understanding and betrayal.

“Mark told me about… everything,” Wyatt says once I’m done, his voice a low rumble. “He was the one who took your call. I had just secured him as my agent when you and I…”

I flinch at the mention of Mark, guilt gnawing at me. “What do you want to do?” I ask, bracing myself for his verdict.

Wyatt runs a hand through his hair, a sigh escaping him. “I want to be part of Jasper’s life. That’s non-negotiable.” He pauses, searching my face. “But forgiveness? That’s not something I can offer right now.”

Disappointment stings, but it’s fair. “I understand.”

“Jasper… He doesn’t know anything yet, right?”

“No. He doesn’t.” I hesitate, then plunge forward with my request. “Can we keep it that way? Just for a little while longer, until you two have had some time to—”

“Get to know each other?” Wyatt finishes for me. There’s a bitterness there that wasn’t present a moment ago. “Yeah. We can do that. ”

“Thank you.” Relief washes over me, leaving me lightheaded. “How about this weekend? The park? Followed by ice cream?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Wyatt gives a curt nod, but it’s the closest thing to an agreement I’ve gotten from him since he found out about Jasper.

“Great. Saturday?”

“Saturday.” Wyatt stands, towering over the table. For a fleeting second, I catch a glimpse of the man I once knew, someone who always made me feel wanted. But then he turns, and the moment’s gone, leaving me with the ghost of what could have been.

I wrap my hands around my coffee cup, the warmth seeping into my chilled fingers. This is a start, a fragile thread connecting our separate lives. And for Jasper’s sake, I’ll hold onto it with everything I’ve got.

The sun peeks through the rustling leaves, casting a playful dance of shadows on the path as Jasper tugs at my hand, his other clutching his favorite red truck .

“Are we gonna see your friend today, Mommy?” His voice is tinged with the excitement only a seven-year-old can muster.

“Yep, the same one you met the other day.” I squeeze his hand gently, feeling the weight of the secret I’m keeping. But for now, it’s just us and the promise of fun in the park.

“He was nice.” Jasper’s blue eyes, so much like Wyatt’s, search mine for reassurance.

I nod, pushing away my unease. “He liked you a lot, kiddo. He wants to spend more time with you.”

“Really?” A gap-toothed grin spreads across his face. “I liked him too.”

My heart clenches, warm and conflicted. Wyatt is a good man despite the gruff exterior he shows the world. It’s my fault Jasper hasn’t known him, hasn’t had his father’s strength and warmth these past years. “Mommy?”

“Sorry, buddy, just thinking.” I ruffle Jasper’s hair—black like Wyatt’s—and push those thoughts aside. Today isn’t about regrets. It’s about moving forward, one step at a time. “Let’s go have fun, okay?”

“Okay!” Jasper races ahead, then looks back at me, his laughter echoing around the park. And for a moment, it’s enough to lighten the burden I carry .

We arrive at the park, and there’s Wyatt, alone on the bench. A baseball cap is tugged low over his brow, sunglasses shielding those piercing blue eyes that always seem to see right through me.

“Hey, Wyatt.”

“Chloe,” he replies, removing his sunglasses. There’s a frostiness that makes my insides tighten. The emotional chasm between us is palpable, even as I fight the urge to bridge it with more than just words.

“Jasper, say hi to Wyatt,” I coax, nudging him gently.

“Hi, Wyatt,” Jasper chirps, and Wyatt’s face softens as he crouches down to meet those innocent blue eyes so much like his own.

“Hey, buddy. Feeling better?” His voice rumbles with a warmth that seems reserved only for Jasper now.

Jasper bobs his head. “All better, thank you.”

Wyatt cracks a smile, and for a second, I see the man I once knew—the one whose laughter could light up the darkest moments. “He’s a polite kid,” he comments to me, standing back up.

“He is,” I agree, though my voice feels like it’s coming from somewhere far away. My heart swells watching them together, yet aches with the years lost.

“Hey, Jasper, what do you like to do at the park?” Wyatt asks, hands shoved casually in his pockets.

With the serious contemplation only a child can muster, Jasper scrunches up his face before answering. “I like to climb on the monkey bars.”

“Monkey bars, huh?” Wyatt’s eyebrows lift playfully. “That sounds like fun. Why don’t we do that?”

“Okay!” Jasper’s response is instantaneous, and he takes off like a shot toward the playground, his little legs pumping furiously.

Wyatt follows after him, and I trail behind, a silent observer to this budding bond. They reach the monkey bars, and Wyatt lifts Jasper up, steadying him as he swings from bar to bar. Their laughter rings through the air, pure and unburdened, while I stand rooted to the spot, a faint smile etched on my lips.

“Higher, Wyatt!” Jasper begs between giggles, and Wyatt obliges, lifting him up to reach the highest rung. Jasper’s triumphant shout fills the space around us, echoing off the trees.

“Good job, champ!” Wyatt cheers, clapping his hands, the proud father figure emerging despite the strangeness of the situation .

There’s an ease to their interaction, a natural rhythm that flows as if they’ve done this a hundred times before. It’s beautiful and heart-wrenching all at once.

An hour later, sweat beads on Jasper’s forehead, his cheeks flushed with a rosy hue of exertion. I hand him the water bottle, and he gulps it down like he’s just crossed a desert. Wyatt leans against the park bench, chest heaving slightly, but there’s a victorious twinkle in his blue eyes.

“Ready for some ice cream, buddy?” I ask, capping the water bottle.

Jasper’s nod is enthusiastic, his energy apparently unflagging despite the hour of play. “Yes!”

I chuckle, ruffling his damp hair. “You really gave those monkey bars a workout.”

Wyatt straightens up, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “The athlete in me came out a bit,” he says, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

Jasper’s grin mirrors Wyatt’s. “No, it was fun,” he replies, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager for the next adventure.

“Fun” feels like an understatement. They were like two peas in a pod, laughing and challenging each other. It warms me from the inside out, watching them together.

“Okay then,” I say, a teasing lilt in my voice. “Let’s get some ice cream to replenish your energy.”

Wyatt’s laughter is rich and smooth, like the chocolate syrup that’ll soon be drizzled over scoops of cold sweetness. Jasper skips ahead, leading the way, as if he can already taste the treat waiting for us.

Stepping into the ice cream shop’s cool embrace, Jasper’s nose crinkles in delight as he breathes in the mixture of sweet and cold. The scent wraps around us, a promise of creamy indulgence. Wyatt squints at the menu board with mock seriousness before his eyes land on the flavor that sparks a light in both his and Jasper’s gazes.

“Rocky road?” Jasper points, his voice tinged with hope.

“Make that two,” Wyatt confirms with a nod to the worker behind the counter, who wields her utensil like an artist does her brush.

I glance down through the glass, where vibrant mounds of frozen colors rest, catching the reflection of their shared smiles. Their connection—rooted in a mutual love of marshmallows and nuts wrapped in chocolate—feels deeper than I expected.

“My treat,” Wyatt insists, and I simply nod. “You want one?”

“No, thanks,” I tell him. “You two go ahead.”

After Wyatt pays, we retreat to a corner secluded from the rest of the patrons, a tiny haven in the sea of tables and chattering customers. Jasper licks his cone with gusto, eyes wide and sparkling, while Wyatt peppers him with questions that feel more like the easy toss of a ball than an interrogation.

“What kind of sports do you like?” Wyatt asks, leaning forward with genuine interest.

“Baseball… and swimming,” Jasper replies between licks, the ice cream already smudging his cheek.

“Same here,” Wyatt chuckles, pointing to himself. “And I play hockey.”

“I love hockey. I’ve always wanted to learn how to play.”

“Really? Maybe I can teach you sometime.” He locks eyes with Jasper, a silent understanding passing through their shared gaze. “Isn’t it funny that we have so much in common? ”

Jasper nods, his mouth forming a contemplative ‘O’ as he processes this revelation. “That is a little funny.”

Wyatt laughs, the sound filling our corner, warm and bright. As they banter, an ache blooms in my chest—a bouquet of regret and resolve. With each shared laugh, each mirrored gesture, the truth becomes clearer: Jasper has been missing this—the connection, the father figure he never knew he needed.

I fidget with my fingers, the weight of what might have been pressing down on me. Vowing silently, I let the conviction cement itself within me. No matter the tangle of feelings between Wyatt and me, Jasper’s happiness will stand paramount. He won’t lose Wyatt again—not if I can help it.

When the last bites of pistachio ice cream are consumed, we stand, chairs scraping softly against the shop’s tiled floor. We make our way out into the glow of the golden hour, where shadows stretch long and the air holds the promise of evening coolness. Jasper skips ahead, his energy unfazed by the day’s adventures.

“Remember to thank Wyatt,” I remind Jasper gently as we approach the sleek lines of Wyatt’s SUV, a stark contrast from my practical sedan parked beside his.

“Thanks for hanging out with me today and for the ice cream!” Jasper’s voice rings clear, carrying the weightless joy only a child can muster.

Wyatt crouches down to Jasper’s level, his blue eyes crinkling behind those dark sunglasses. “It was great to get to know you, Jasper. Hopefully we can hang out a bit more soon.”

“Yes!” Jasper nods vigorously, a wide grin revealing the gap of a recently lost tooth.

My hands move methodically, securing Jasper in his booster seat, the click of the buckle grounding me. I cast a glance at Wyatt, who stands with his hands shoved casually in his pockets. “We’ll do this again soon, then?” My words hang between us, hopeful yet hesitant.

“We’ll schedule something.” Wyatt’s nod is curt, businesslike, though his gaze lingers on Jasper for a moment longer.

“Okay.” The word is a whisper of acquiescence, tinged with the unspoken yearnings of my heart. I close the door to Jasper’s chatter about monkey bars and superheroes, sealing him in his small fortress .

“Goodbye, Wyatt.” My farewell is soft, brief and devoid of the warmth I wish I could pour into it.

“Bye, Chloe.” His response mirrors mine, a reflection without depth.

I slide into the driver’s seat, the leather cool against my skin. The rearview mirror grants me one last glimpse of Wyatt, swallowed by the encroaching dusk. My heart beats a silent rhythm of hope and hesitation, willing him to stop us, to offer more than a casual goodbye. But he doesn’t, and with a sigh, I ignite the engine and pull away.

The road stretches out before us, and I focus on the journey ahead, each mile a step toward a future where Jasper knows the bond of father and son. It’s a path I’m determined to pave for them, no matter the uncertainty that lies in my own heart.