One Pucking Secret (One Pucking #1)

Chapter 23

Chloe

My phone buzzes with Wyatt’s message, a digital nudge that draws an involuntary curve to my lips.

Wyatt: You can thank me a different way.

His words dance across the screen with a playful edge that sends a ripple of warmth through me.

Tucking the phone into my purse, I feel the weight of the media storm outside dissolve a little. With Wyatt, the chaos doesn’t seem so consuming.

I push open the bistro’s glass door, a tiny bell chiming above as I step into the cozy haven of clinking dishes filled with the rich aroma of roasted coffee beans. The hustle of the city falls away behind me, replaced by the murmuring hum of midday patrons indulging in their lunchtime escapes.

“Chloe, over here!” Lainey’s voice, her familiar cadence immediately comforting me, cuts through the low-level chatter. I scan the room, and there she is, a beacon of blond hair and blue-eyed calm seated at a table for two, tucked snug against the counter’s polished expanse.

Her hand flutters in the air like an elegant bird signaling me to safe harbor. As I reach her side, we embrace tightly, a momentary sanctuary from everything swirling around us. “Hey, Lainey.”

“Hey, you.”

I sink into the chair across from her. The wood of the table is cool beneath my palms, grounding me as I settle in. It’s moments like these—simple meetups with my best friend—that tether me back to normalcy amid the tempest of scandal and scrutiny.

“Cozy spot, right?” I remark, taking in the quaint charm of our surroundings.

“Perfect for a catch up,” she agrees, her eyes twinkling with an unspoken understanding that goes beyond words.

The clink of ice against glass draws my attention as Lainey pushes a sweating cup across the table to me. “I got you an iced coffee,” she says .

“Thanks, you’re the best.” I wrap my fingers around the cool cup and bring it to my lips, the first sip of bitter chill melding with sweet relief.

“Tell me everything,” Lainey urges, leaning forward, her own drink cradled in slender hands like a precious secret. “How have you been holding up since the media shitstorm?” Her eyes hold concern and curiosity, the blue of them reflecting a clear sky I long to see again.

“Jasper and I… we’re adjusting.” My words gently reflect the fact that we’re still getting used to it all. “Wyatt’s place is a fortress compared to mine. More cameras, more locks, fewer prying eyes.”

The waitress, with a bright, practiced smile, approaches our refuge, pen poised. “Ready to order?”

“Chicken salad sandwich, please,” I say, craving the simplicity of familiar food. Lainey opts for the steak salad, a choice that seems so very her—bold and unapologetic.

As the waitress departs, Lainey’s gaze on me softens. “You’re handling all this well,” she assesses, her tone threaded with admiration. “With your PR expertise, you’ll spin this. You always do.”

“Spinning stories for others is one thing,” I confess quietly, tracing the condensation on my glass. “It’s harder when the story is your own life.” But even as doubt whispers, determination stirs deep within. I’ll figure it out—I have to.

“Just focus on Jasper,” she reminds me. I nod, taking in the earnestness of her gaze. “He’s your priority.”

“Of course.” The affirmation slips from my lips effortlessly as I run a thumb over the moist rim of my cup. “Every move I make right now is all with his well-being and safety in mind.”

A shadow falls across our table, chilling the warmth that had begun to blossom between us.

“Excuse me, aren’t you Chloe Reed?” a woman’s voice says from beside me.

I peer up, and a face I recognize but have never seen in person stands before me.

“Sonia,” I breathe as I process who she is.

“I’ve been dying to meet you,” she tells me. Her presence is like an unwanted storm cloud, her phone angled in attack mode. She wears a smirk that’s too sharp, too ready.

“Is that so?”

“You’ve got some nerve showing up in Wyatt’s life with a seven-year-old child,” she snips, her caramel eyes like daggers as she glares at me. “I always knew he’d end up the victim of some ex attempting to accuse him of being a father.”

I can’t help it. I huff—a short, sharp dismissal of her absurdity. Is she for real? Did she actually peg me as some mastermind gold digger who spun a web around Wyatt? The thought is so ludicrous it almost makes me laugh. Almost.

“You think I orchestrated this?”

Her lips curl into a smirk that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, I know your type.”

Heat flares in my cheeks, a wildfire ignited by injustice. “Don’t comment on something you know nothing about, Sonia,” I warn, my words a whip crack in the stillness of the confrontation. “Although that seems to be all you do these days.”

She tilts her head, feigning innocence, but the malice is there, a snake in the grass. “I see you’ve been watching.”

“Hard not to, since all of your content is about Wyatt these days,” I reply evenly. “And it was my job to let the world know the truth.”

Sonia huffs. “That’s right. I read that you were repping him. What a mess you are, Chloe. Even I have more sense than to put myself directly in the public eye like that.”

“Is that a threat?” She raises a brow, her words dripping with faux innocence .

“It’s a promise.” I stand my ground, arms crossed. Lainey’s supportive presence nearby bolsters me, and I know Sonia feels it too. “Unlike you, I don’t need to manipulate anyone to keep them in my life.”

Sonia’s eyes narrow as if searching for a weakness, but I hold firm, keeping my expression steady. She tilts her head. “Oh, you think you’re so secure now that he’s successful,” she sneers, bitterness coloring her tone.

I let out a short, dry laugh. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Lainey shifts beside me, bristling, but I hold up a hand to reassure her. “I’ve got this,” I say, my voice calm and unshaken. I lean forward, my tone firm but measured. “Watching you go to such lengths to try and pull Wyatt down just to stay relevant—it’s actually pretty sad.”

For a split second, I see a flash of uncertainty in her eyes before she composes herself. Sonia’s mouth twists into a mocking smirk, and she leans in. “Please. I’ve moved on. My new man makes Wyatt look like a minor leaguer.”

“Then congratulations.” I nod, keeping my tone light and letting a small, knowing smile slip through. “But if he’s so great, why are you still wasting your time dragging Wyatt’s name through the mud? ”

She sneers, her mouth twisting. “After what he did, he deserves it.”

I remain unflustered, letting her anger pass over me. “The reality is, Sonia—you relied on Wyatt’s success to boost your own. And now, you’re realizing your career wasn’t built on anything real.”

Her facade cracks ever so slightly, and I know I’ve struck a nerve.

Sonia’s face falters just slightly, but she recovers quickly with a disdainful scoff, pivoting on her heel. I watch her storm out, blond curls bouncing as she goes, each step a little less confident than the last.

She’s helped into a sleek black car by a tall, muscular man, his head shorn to bristly shadows that gleam under the midday sun. There’s something about the controlled precision in his movements, the set of his shoulders, that tugs at the edge of my memory—insistent yet elusive. But he never turns around, keeping his face hidden, his identity just out of reach.

I’m about to turn back to Lainey, ready to reassure her with a smile that the drama is over, when my phone buzzes sharply against the table. An alert flashes on the screen, bold and ominous: “ Breaking News. Wyatt Banks Fails Drug Test .”

The words sear into my mind, and for a moment, reality tilts on its axis. I feel the blood drain from my face, a cold sweat prickling at the nape of my neck. Wyatt, Wyatt—with his unwavering focus, his unbreakable control on the ice. How could this be happening?

“Chloe?” Lainey’s voice cuts through the fog of disbelief, grounding me. “What is it?”

But I can’t answer. My gaze locked on the headline that threatens to unravel everything we’ve been fighting to build.