One Pucking Secret (One Pucking #1)

Chapter 16

Wyatt

The couch’s springs groan as I shift, my body protesting the stiff fabric against my skin. Light creeps into the living room, casting a soft glow over the assortment of children’s books scattered on the floor. Jasper pads in, his small feet making almost no sound on the carpet. His hair sticks up in every direction, a change from the quiet order of Chloe’s place.

“Hey, buddy, what are you doing up?” My voice is barely above a whisper, rough with sleep.

He gives a sleepy shrug, rubbing at his eyes. “I can go back to my room if you want to sleep.”

“No, that’s okay.” I sit up, stretching my arms above my head until my joints pop. “I’m up too. Say, do you want to make breakfast with me?”

Jasper’s face brightens for a moment then he nods, a slow, deliberate movement. “Sure.”

We shuffle into the kitchen, a march of two half-awake souls navigating the early morning silence. “Why don’t you show me where everything is?” I suggest, and he takes charge with the seriousness only a seven-year-old can muster.

“Does your mommy sleep in on the weekends?” I ask while we measure out flour and eggs on the counter.

“Sometimes.” He chuckles, a sound that seems too big for his little frame. “I just read books and play until she wakes up.”

“That’s good,” I reply, a chuckle of my own joining his. The scent of batter begins to fill the air, warm and inviting.

As we cook, the sound of pancakes sizzling fades into the background, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The tension between Chloe and me has been simmering for so long, but as I watch Jasper carefully pour the batter onto the griddle, something shifts. It’s time to let go of the anger, time to forgive her for trying to protect him. They deserve a fresh start, and maybe I do, too.

The last pancake lands with a soft plop on the stack, steam curling up like a morning stretch. The kitchen smells like butter and pancakes, a scent that feels like forgiveness dipped in maple syrup .

Chloe shuffles in, her hair a tousled auburn nest, flannel pajamas hanging loose over her frame. She rubs sleep from her eyes. “What’s going on here?” she mumbles, more to the world than to us.

“We decided to make some breakfast,” I say, sliding the plate onto the island.

“No way.” Her voice is still thick with sleep, but her eyes light up at the sight.

Jasper grins, all teeth and pride. “What do you think, Mommy?”

“I can’t wait to try them.” She peers over at me. “I’ll make some coffee,” she says, padding toward the counter.

“Jasper, why don’t you help me set the table?” I suggest. He nods eagerly, fetching plates with careful hands.

“How do you take your coffee?” she asks as she takes out a container of creamer from the fridge.

“Black is fine,” I tell her, and she peers over her shoulder, silently questioning my coffee preference. I chuckle under my breath.

Creamer flows into her mug like a pale swirl of clouds into a clear dawn sky; she sets our mugs down with the precision of ritual.

Once she has a seat, I set the plate down I made especially for her. It contains all the perfectly fried pancakes, without a hint of burned edges.

“These are amazing,” Chloe says after her first bite, genuine gratitude painting her words.

Jasper’s gaze flickers between us, a question in his blue eyes. “Wyatt, what are we doing today?”

“Thought I might teach you how to ice skate,” I say.

“Really?” he gasps, the word a puff of excitement in the chilled air of the room.

“Sure thing, kiddo.” My chuckle is low and warm, matching the glow in his eyes.

“Make sure you eat plenty, Jasper,” Chloe instructs him, maternal command in her tone. “You’re going to need the energy.”

I watch Jasper attack his pancakes like they’re the final period of a tied game, syrup dribbling down his chin. And in this small, sunlit kitchen, we’re all winners.

About an hour later, once our stomachs are full and we’re all dressed for a day at the rink, the car hums along the streets, Jasper’s excitement palpable in the backseat as cityscapes give way to the open expanse of the arena parking lot. “He’s always wanted to learn,” Chloe says, a wistful smile touching her lips.

“Good thing you left it in the hands of a pro,” I shoot back.

She huffs—a mock show of indignation—but her laughter is a melody that dances between us, soft and inviting. I throw in a wink for good measure, and for a moment, she’s caught off guard, her cheeks flushing a lovely shade of rose before she mirrors my flirtatious grin.

I park in one of the reserved spots close to the entrance. I’m the first to step out of the car, heading straight for Jasper’s door.

“Ready for some fun, champ?” I ask, reaching over to unbuckle his seatbelt.

Jasper nods eagerly, bouncing in his booster seat. “Yes, I can’t wait!”

My heart swells at his excitement. “That’s good to hear. We’re going to have a blast.”

As Chloe comes around, I lift Jasper out of his booster seat, setting him down on the ground.

“Hey, Jasper, I’ve got something for you,” I say. I pop open the trunk with my key fob, pulling out a box wrapped in colorful paper. His eyes light up as he tears into it, revealing a pair of brand-new ice skates.

“Wow! Thanks, Wyatt!” Jasper exclaims, beaming up at me. “Can I wear these today?”

“Absolutely,” I reply, smiling at his excitement. Seeing the pure joy on his face fills me with a strange sense of pride .

Turning to Chloe, I notice her watching us with a soft smile. I clear my throat and hand her the second box. “I also got a pair for you, Chloe,” I say. “In case you wanted to join us.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and I catch a flicker of uncertainty behind her gratitude. “Thanks, Wyatt,” she says, her voice warm, but there’s something in her gaze that makes me wonder if I’ve overstepped.

I clear my throat again, breaking the moment. “Let’s head inside.”

Zach’s towering frame is instantly recognizable by the entrance. His surprise at seeing us together is a raised eyebrow away from a question he doesn’t ask.

“Wyatt, didn’t expect to see you here. Chloe?” He nods toward us, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity, his eyes shifting between the three of us.

“Hey, Zach,” Chloe says, her voice cheerful as she approaches him with Jasper’s hand clasped in hers.

“Who is this?” Zach bends down, offering Jasper a high-five, which the boy shyly reciprocates.

“Jasper,” Chloe introduces, pride swelling in her voice like a warm tide. “He’s my son. ”

Zach’s brows rise. “Son? No kidding. I didn’t know you had a kid.”

As Zach straightens up, his eyes linger on Jasper for a moment longer, a flicker of something—recognition, maybe—crossing his face. He glances at me, and I can tell what he’s thinking without him saying a word. Jasper’s resemblance to me is undeniable, the same blue eyes, the same dark hair. Zach doesn’t comment on it, but the knowing look he shoots me speaks volumes.

Chloe smiles, oblivious to the unspoken exchange, the kind only a proud mother can conjure. “Wyatt’s teaching him to ice skate today.”

“Stinking adorable,” Zach teases, ruffling Jasper’s hair, now tousled from the winter cap he’d been wearing.

“Best teacher around,” I chime in, trying to keep the mood light, though I can feel the weight of Zach’s silent observation. He knows. Or at least, he suspects.

“Have fun, little man,” Zach says, giving Jasper a conspiratorial wink before glancing at me once more, his expression unreadable. The question is there, but he keeps it to himself—for now .

“You’re not going to skate?” I ask Chloe as she watches us, her arms folded across her flannel-clad chest.

“Maybe later,” she replies, a corner of her mouth tilting up in a half-smile. “I’ll watch for now.”

“Alright, keep an eye on us then.” I wink at her, and she shakes her head, but her eyes are sparkling green, like sunlight filtering through leaves.

Jasper wiggles his foot into the first skate, his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth in concentration. “Pull it tight, bud,” I instruct, guiding his small hands. The satisfying sound of laces being pulled taut fills the air. With both skates secured, we shuffle toward the rink’s entrance, the sound of the blades muffled against the carpeted floor.

I hold on to Jasper’s shoulder as we step onto the slick surface. His body is rigid at first, but as I show him how to glide one foot after the other, he relaxes. Jasper is a natural, slicing through the frosty air with growing confidence, his laughter echoing off the walls.

“Look at you go!” I call out.

Every few strides, I glance over my shoulder to where Chloe stands by the boards. She’s got her phone out, capturing Jasper’s every move. Her cheeks are tinged pink from the chill, or maybe it’s the excitement lighting her up from inside. Either way, she’s beautiful in ways I’ll never forget.

“Good job, Jasp!” she yells, waving at him, and he beams, pushing himself harder, faster. He’s radiant with pride and joy, his new skill unfolding like wings. Seeing him this happy, under my guidance, swells something warm and unfamiliar in my chest.

“Did you see that, Wyatt?” Jasper calls, breathless, after a particularly successful lap.

“Every second,” I assure him, grinning as wide as the rink itself. It’s more than just teaching him to skate. In these moments, with the chill biting at my cheeks and Jasper’s exhilaration infectious, I’m part of their world—a place I never knew I’d fit until now.

“Let’s take a break, buddy,” I tell Jasper, patting his back. The cool air of the rink has kept the heat at bay, but my shirt clings to me with a light sheen of sweat from our exertions, and Jasper’s cheeks are flushed with both cold and effort.

As we glide over to the exit, Chloe’s laughter reaches us before we see her. There’s something about the sound that seems to cut through the frosty atmosphere, making everything feel a little warmer. She’s perched on the edge of the bench, Zach standing beside her.

“You’re doing so awesome, Jasp,” Chloe tells him as we approach, her voice full of pride. She extends a bottle of water toward him, which he grabs with small, eager hands, thirst evident in the way he gulps it down.

“Your lesson next?” I tease Chloe, a playful smirk dancing on my lips. Her eyes roll dramatically, but the corners of her mouth betray her amusement.

“If you want today to go without a hitch, you’ll skip my lesson.” Her tone is lighthearted, but there’s an undercurrent of truth—we both know her grace on and off the ice is far from natural.

I smile, remembering that night eight years ago—her nearly crashing into me on her bike.

“My students don’t get hurt,” I counter, inching closer until I can pick up the subtle scent of vanilla from her hair. It’s a comforting, homey aroma that doesn’t quite match her fiery spirit.

“Is that so?” she challenges, tilting her head up to meet my gaze, a spark of defiance in those green eyes I’ve come to know so well. Her words hang between us like a dare .

Before I can respond, Zach’s voice cuts in, clearing his throat as if to remind us there are other people present. “Jasper, do you want a Knights jersey?” he asks, bending down to Jasper’s level with an encouraging smile.

Jasper’s nod is vigorous, his blue eyes lighting up like stars. “Yeah!”

“Come with me,” Zach offers, extending a hand.

Jasper looks at Chloe. “Can I mommy?”

“Yes, go ahead.”

Jasper takes Zach’s hand, looking back at us with a grin that could melt glaciers.

And then it’s just Chloe and me, the sounds of the rink fading into a distant hum. We’re alone together, surrounded by the echo of blades on ice and the soft whisper of our breaths in the chilled air.

The rink’s clamor fades away as Zach and Jasper disappear toward the merch booth, leaving Chloe and me in a pocket of stillness. The chill bites at my cheeks, but it’s nothing compared to the heat rising between us.

“Chloe,” I start, my voice barely louder than the sound of our mingled breaths. A twinge of vulnerability seizes me, cracking the ice around my stubborn heart. “I’ve been doing some thinking. ”

She looks up, the question in her eyes sharp enough to score the ice. “About what?”

“Us,” I say. It feels like skating on thin ice, this confession, but I plow ahead. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I feel ready to let go of my anger and resentment toward you.”

Her brow softens, and the arena might as well be empty for all the attention I pay it now. She’s the center of my universe here in this moment, under the glow of fluorescent lights.

“Forgiveness isn’t easy,” she replies, her arms crossed as she looks at everything that isn’t me. “So, I completely understand why you’ve been distant.”

“That’s fair,” I concede, taking another step until I’m close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin. “But I want to try again, Chloe. With you. If you’ll have me.”

The silence stretches out, precarious and expectant. Then her lips curve into a hopeful smile that seems to chase away the cold. “Wyatt, I really am sorry about keeping Jasper from you. I never intended to hurt you, but I’m so relieved to see how loving and kind you’ve been toward him.”

“He’s a great kid, Chloe. While I do wish you had told me about him sooner, I have to admit you’ve done an incredible job of raising him. And I do understand why you never told me. Don’t think I haven’t looked at things from your perspective.”

Her smile widens, but she remains distant. “But we should tell Jasper the truth as soon as we can.”

I nod. “Completely agree. How about we hold off today, though? He’s having such a great time. It may be better to tell him at home.”

“I like that idea. You know, you’re full of surprises, Wyatt Banks.”

“Only the best for you and Jasper,” I reply, a half-tease laced with truth.

And then, without another word, I close the distance. Our kiss is an electric shock, sparking through the frosty air, melting away uncertainties. Her lips are soft, familiar yet thrilling, as if we’re discovering each other all over again.

It’s a promise, a truce, the start of something new. And as we pull back, breathless and grinning like fools, I know this is just the beginning.

God, do I hope I’m right.