Three Pucking Wedding Dates (Hockey Harems #1)

52. Theo

52

THEO

T he morning sunlight streams through the curtains, and I squint against the bright assault on my eyes. The unfamiliarity of the room slowly registers in my groggy mind—Oakley’s room at her father’s. Sitting up, I rub the sleep from my eyes and glance around in search of Oakley, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

“Oakley?” I call out tentatively, but there’s no response. A sudden surge of anxiety courses through me as I worry about her well-being. She’s been through so much lately, and I can’t help but feel protective of her.

Just as I’m about to get up and start searching for her, the sound of raised voices and heated arguments from downstairs reaches my ears. My heart races with concern, and I know I need to find out what’s going on.

I throw off the covers and spring out of bed, quickly pulling on my jeans and a shirt. As I race toward the door, I try to make out the voices below. I recognize Oakley’s distinct tone—spicy and sassy, just like her personality—but the others are harder to identify.

“Stay out of it, Oakley!” a voice screeches, and my blood boils at the blatant disrespect.

“Excuse me? This is my family, too!” Oakley retorts, her voice passionate and unwavering. I admire her courage, even though every instinct in me screams to protect her from whatever storm she’s facing.

The moment my foot hits the bottom step, I take in the scene before me—Oakley standing tall and defiant, her long wavy brown hair framing the fire in her green eyes. Her wicked stepmother, Tina, looms nearby with a predatory smile on her thin lips, while Georgia, her stepsister, glares at Oakley with thinly veiled contempt.

“Enough!” I interject, stepping forward to mediate the situation. “There’s no need for this to escalate. Let’s all calm down and talk things through.” My gaze flickers between the faces of the three women, searching for any sign of reason. I don’t even know what the fight is about, but I don’t really need to.

Tina smirks at me, unimpressed, while Georgia looks momentarily taken aback by my presence. But it’s Oakley who captures my attention as she calmly meets my gaze, an unwavering determination shining in her eyes. In that instant, I recognize that she doesn’t need me to swoop in and save her; she’s more than capable of handling this family feud on her own.

“Thank you, Theo,” she says, her voice steady and strong. “But I’ve got this.”

Oakley turns back to Georgia. “Maybe if you spent half as much time working on your character as you do your appearance, people might actually want to be around you,” she snaps, her voice dripping with disdain.

Georgia stands there, stunned and momentarily speechless. Her eyes widen as she processes Oakley’s words, anger quickly flaring in their icy depths. She clenches her fists, clearly intent on retaliating, but I step in front of her, blocking her path.

“Move out of my way, Theo!” Georgia hisses, her rage palpable. But even as she glares at me, I can see the insecurity and hurt hidden beneath her fury.

“Enough, Georgia,” I say firmly, my expression resolute. “You’re not going to make this any better by lashing out.” Inside, I’m wrestling with my own emotions—the desire to protect Oakley and the knowledge that she doesn’t need me to save her. Even so, I refuse to let this turn into an all-out brawl.

“Fine,” Georgia snarls, glaring daggers at Oakley before storming off in the opposite direction. I watch her go, feeling a mix of relief and concern as the tension in the room begins to dissipate.

As Georgia storms off, Oakley straightens her shoulders and faces me, her eyes blazing with a fierce mix of anger and determination. Even after all the chaos, she looks stunning—long, wavy brown hair framing her high cheekbones and bright green eyes that seem to see right through me.

“Come on, Theo,” she says, voice steady despite the emotions churning beneath the surface. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Of course,” I agree, feeling a surge of pride at her resilience. We head upstairs to grab our things, and on our way out the door Oakley pauses to address her father.

“Sorry for the scene, Dad,” she says, her tone genuine but laced with an underlying edge. “But I’m not going to let Georgia walk all over me anymore.”

Her father simply nods in acknowledgment, his eyes weary from years of witnessing similar family conflicts. He understands that sometimes standing up for yourself is more important than keeping the peace.

“Take care of yourself, Oakley,” he murmurs, and I can see the love and concern in his expression.

“Thank you, Mr. Price,” I say, offering him an apologetic glance before we leave. It feels necessary to offer some sort of condolence for the upheaval we’ve caused, even though I know deep down that it was long overdue.

“Goodbye, Theo,” he replies, his voice tinged with resignation.

The door clicks shut behind us, the sudden silence amplifying Oakley’s ragged breaths. She turns to me, her green eyes glistening with unshed tears and unspoken emotions.

“God, I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life,” she mutters, her voice thick with frustration.

“Oakley, don’t be. You stood up for yourself, and you did it with grace,” I say, trying to reassure her. I can see how much this has shaken her, but I want her to know that she has nothing to be ashamed of.

“Grace? Really?” She snorts, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I don’t normally let her get to me that much, or say exactly what I’m really thinking.”

“Sometimes, people need a wake-up call.” I step closer, my hands finding her shoulders. The tension is palpable beneath my fingers, but I can also feel the warmth of her body, reminding me of how strong she truly is.

“Thank you, Theo,” she whispers, her eyes meeting mine. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Of course.” I lean in, pressing my lips against hers in a deep, passionate kiss. The taste of her is intoxicating, an elixir that erases any lingering doubts about our connection. I want to convey my support and admiration through this intimate gesture, hoping she understands how proud I am of her.

As our kiss deepens, I feel her begin to relax, the weight of the confrontation slowly lifting from her shoulders.