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CHAPTER 100 - FALSE PEACE
publish date:
2026-04-27 00:07:02
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PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE ONE – THE BILLBOARD
I’m already wet before I see the billboard, which is inconvenient because I’m in traffic on Morrison and Third with cold coffee in the cupholder and my thighs have no business pressing together in a Honda Civic at eleven in the morning on a Tuesday.But there he is.Sixty feet of jaw towering above the intersection. The scar through his eyebrow smoothed by whatever digital tool Nike’s production team uses to turn damage into aspiration. MADDOX stamped across the bottom in block letters like a warning label for a product that ruins lives.They airbrushed him into something clean and sellable, a version of my husband that could move running shoes and protein powder and luxury watches. But I know the real version is currently at the practice facility swallowing a protein bar without chewing it because he treats food that way.My body doesn’t care about the airbrushing.My body sees that jaw at that scale and responds with the same dumb, animal loyalty it’s had since we met, and the fact
PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE EPILOGUE <3
The hotel room door clicked shut and the sound swallowed every other noise – the reception music still thumping two floors below, the distant clink of glasses being collected by staff who’d be cleaning confetti out of the garden for a week.Gone. All of it. Just the dark room and the amber glow from the river bridges painting stripes across the ceiling.I was still in the dress. The silk heavy against my ribs, the bodice warm from hours of dancing, the hem dragging behind me with the weight of a train I’d stepped on twice during the father-daughter spot where Richard had stood in.Rhys stepped behind me. His warmth arriving before his hands – the heat of his chest hitting my bare shoulders through the gap where the fabric scooped low.His fingers found the nape of my neck first, unhooking the veil clasp with a precision that told me he’d been thinking about this since the aisle. The tulle hit the carpet without sound.Then his thumbs found the zipper.He held the tab between his finge
PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE CHAPTER 168 - SOMETHING OURS
The next morning, Miles extended his arm.Fifteen years old. Charcoal suit that Richard had specified in the logistics spreadsheet down to the thread count. Dark eyes clear and as present as the man he was becoming – steady, honest, true, brave in the way that only people who’d been broken young and healed properly could be.“Ready, sis?”“Ready.”We walked with him walking BESIDE me. The way we’d always walked. Through the worst and the best and the ordinary middle where most of life actually happened. His arm under my hand. The brick path lined with my mom's candles.As we cleared the threshold, he leaned close. His mouth near my ear. The words small enough that only I could hear them.“I’m glad he kept coming back.”My throat closed and my eyes blurred as I squeezed his arm because my voice wasn’t available, and he squeezed back because he understood that language.Rhys was at the altar in his black tuxedo and his hair pushed back but still refusing to be tamed. His face was comple
PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE CHAPTER 167 - ON THE HOUSE
The bar hadn’t changed. Same sticky walnut. Same neon beer signs casting amber across the brick. Same corner stool where a girl with ruined mascara sat two years ago and ordered something she couldn’t taste because the boy she’d loved for years had chosen someone else on Valentine’s Day.Same stool. Different girl.Rhys slid a drink across the bar deliberately. The motion identical to the first time. He’d perfected this move. Practised it, probably. A current annual recreation of the night that started everything.“You look like you’re having the kind of night that needs more than one.”I took the glass. The drink was different now – not the cheap whiskey from Valentine’s Day but something better, something he’d asked the bartender to prepare that tasted like he’d been paying attention to what I actually liked for two years instead of guessing.“I’m having the best night of my life,” I said.“You said that last year.”“I’ll say it next year too.”The bartender – same guy, thick beard
PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE CHAPTER 166 - FOR THE DRINK
Mom saw the ring before I said a word. FaceTime connected and her eyes went straight to my left hand on the counter like she already knew what was happening.She dropped her dish towel and cried quietly. It felt like it was the healing kind that meant the walls of the last three years had finally finished coming down and what was left was a woman watching her daughter wear a gold band on a video call and knowing it was right.Richard’s response arrived six hours later in the form of a text.Congratulations. He chose well.Four words. I read them three times. In Richard Maddox’s vocabulary, that was a concession speech. An admission that the architecture his son built with the girl he’d tried to remove from the blueprint was stronger than the concrete fortress Richard spent twenty years maintaining. It meant I was wrong and I know it and I’m not going to say those words because I’m Richard, but these four words carry the same weight if you know how to read me and by now you should.I k
PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE CHAPTER 165 - YES
We were drinking the cheap champagne Cole had brought to the reading as a gift. We’d carried it home unopened because drinking in a bookstore basement felt wrong when the book was still warm in my hands.Rhys popped it in the kitchen with his left hand and the foam ran over his wrist, but neither of us reached for a towel.He poured two plastic cups because we didn’t own champagne glasses yet.“To the writer,” he said.I drank. Set the cup down. Pulled his mouth to mine.The sex was different from everything that came before it because we were celebrating this time.He lifted me onto the kitchen counter – our counter, the one I’d measured with my eyes during the apartment tour and he’d caught me doing it and said “I know what you’re doing” and I’d said “I don’t know what you’re talking about” – and I wrapped my legs around him and we laughed when the champagne fell off the edge and shattered on the tile.We moved to the bedroom – his hands on my hips steering me backward, my hands pul
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