The Pucking Wrong Date: A Hockey Romance (The Pucking Wrong Series Book 3)

The moonlight filtered through the shades, casting a soft glow across the room. I stood by the door, my heart heavy with an ache I was doing my best to ignore.

Walker lay in bed, his features etched with a frown, his hand clutching the sheets as if searching for something that had slipped away.

Everything inside me was screaming at me to stay, to crawl back into bed with him, to drown in the intensity of whatever this was.

But that wasn’t an option. Because good things never were for me.

I didn’t know almost anything about him, but the little I did know made it clear he was too good for my shit. He deserved so much more than the chaos that clung to me.

Tears welled in my eyes as I stared at him one last time, committing his image to memory. His disheveled hair, the way his lips curled in his sleep. I wanted to keep it with me, help me get past what waited for me after I left here.

With a heavy heart, I turned away, my footsteps silent as I slipped out of the penthouse and into the elevator. As I pressed the button for the lobby, I whispered a silent goodbye.

It was better this way, I murmured for the millionth time.

The city outside was already waking up, cars honking and racing by, a stark contrast to the stillness I had left behind. Each step I took away from him felt like pain.

The ache in my chest wasn’t real, I told myself.

But it tasted like a lie.

I slipped out of the Uber, the ever present hole inside of me feeling even wider for some reason, the emptiness clawing at my insides and making it hard to breathe.

I stood on the sidewalk, taking a few deep breaths. Trying to get ahold of myself, rebuild my armor before I returned back to my real life. Where I couldn’t feel, couldn’t smile, couldn’t be anything but what they wanted.

I could feel him inside me, and on my skin, like somehow he’d managed to coat every part of me with…him. The ache between my legs, I didn’t want it to fade.

Like maybe if I carried part of last night with me, it could help me…

Survive.

I sighed, because I knew better than to have anything that resembled…hope. Hope was for fools.

And after that one night, the one where I had dared to hope, my whole life had been ruined.

I’d never be foolish enough to hope again.

I pulled off my wig as the elevators opened and I stepped inside my apartment, somehow not surprised at all to see Jolette and Marco sitting in the living room, lounging on my furniture like they lived here.

Resigned.

That was the only thing I could feel with what I knew was coming.

Jolette was checking her fingernails as I slowly trudged in, not bothering to give me attention. The anticipation of her disapproval was what she liked the most. It was an art form for her. Dragging out the dread.

Marco typed on his phone, controlling his empire even at five fucking thirty a.m.

‘Olivia,’ Jolette finally said, her voice oozing disdain. ‘So nice of you to join us.”

“It is my apartment,” I said lightly.

Her eyes finally snapped to mine at my tone, her red lips pursing in displeasure. Disrespect may have been the only way to immediately get her attention.

Marco slipped his phone in his pocket, his tone dripping with condescension. ‘You know better than to leave without notifying us. It’s all about security, princess.’

I held in the shiver his pet name gave me, trying to think instead of what it had felt like for Walker to whisper “angel,” as he thrust inside me, his soft expression as he stared.

“Are you listening?” Jolette snarled.

I clenched my teeth, trying to hold myself back, because this was a situation I couldn’t win. I didn’t need to make it even worse—like her putting a guard at the door. I’d just gotten rid of that six months ago.

‘I went out, alright? I needed some air,’ I snapped back, my defiance cutting through the tension.

Jolette’s icy blue eyes bore into me, her perfectly styled hair framing her face like a judgmental halo. ‘And where exactly did you go for air?”

“Harley’s hockey game. It was a big game,” I finally whispered, hating the way her eyes flashed with disdain. Harley was her nephew through my father—and since she loathed that man almost as much as she hated me, Harley wasn’t her favorite person either.

I didn’t give her any other details. I wouldn’t… Everything she touched turned to ashes, all the good about anything burned away.

Jolette’s laugh was a mockery. ‘Did the hockey game last all night, Olivia?’ She held up her phone and the 5:30am that was blaring from the homescreen.

I blinked at her slowly, my hands fisted at my side.

“Like I said…I needed some air,” I said through clenched teeth.

I was embarrassed standing there. Pretending to be someone else for a night…it was dangerous. It had made me forget for a second how life really was. It had given me a taste of…freedom.

And that was as dangerous as having…hope.

There was a beat of silence, like both of them were waiting for me to break and spill my secrets.

But I stayed quiet.

“Being stubborn this morning, are you? I guess we’re being too lenient, Marco. She’s getting a wild hare again.”

Dread filled my gut at the reminder of what happened the last time they’d thought I was trying to break away.

Marco was still staring at me, tracing his bottom lip idly like he was deep in thought.

‘Let’s remember to give someone a head’s up next time you leave, princess,” he finally said dismissively, shocking me with how he seemed to be simply letting it go. But his next words were like ice water in my veins. “Jolette, why don’t you go home and get some sleep. Olivia and I have some things to discuss.”

Jolette’s gaze hardened. “You’re too lenient on her,” she snapped, like I was an unruly child instead of a fucking adult.

Shame turned my insides like spoiled milk.

Shame and rage.

There’d never been anyone to help me. My mother and Marco had manipulated everything around them to keep me under their thumb.

No one would listen to me.

What little freedom I had came from giving up everything I’d worked so hard to get.

Those feelings slipped into fear as she left the room without a look back.

And then, it was just me and him.

Marco was back to looking at his phone, letting the anticipation peak—he and Jolette had that skillset in common.

Finally he slipped his phone into his pocket…and that’s when my hands began to shake.

“Tell me what you were really up to last night, princess,” he ordered silkily.

I gulped, trying to keep my face blank. “I already told you,” I whispered. “And there may have also been a late night taco truck run in there as well,” I said the words lightly, like maybe they’d tamp down the madness seeping out of him.

He prowled towards me in long, slow steps…until he was standing just a breath away. It was all I could do not to back up.

But he’d like that too much.

Seeing my fear.

“You smell like sex,” he whispered, leaning forward, his lips brushing against my ear and making me want to vomit. “You must have lost your mind if you think you could give that pussy to someone else and expect there wouldn’t be consequences.”

I should have been prepared, but the blow from his fist still took me off guard. I staggered back, the searing pain in my face radiating through me. The metallic tang of blood flooded my mouth. My vision swam as I struggled to stay on my feet, my legs wobbling beneath me.

My lips were trembling as I held in my tears. It was the only thing I had—not giving him the reaction that he wanted.

My defiance only made him more furious.

He loomed over me, his face twisted with anger and frustration, his chest heaving with each ragged breath.

‘Who does that pussy belong to?’ he growled, the words hanging in the air like a heavy shroud of doom. A hand darted between my legs, digging into my core painfully. “Who?” he shouted.

Without waiting for an answer, his fist hit me again in the stomach. Each blow was like a sledgehammer, raining down on me in sickening punches that echoed around the room. Each impact sent shockwaves of pain coursing through my body, and like every time…

All I could do was survive it.

I collapsed to the floor, my consciousness slipping away, my vision narrowing to a pinprick of light. My body was nothing but a battered and broken vessel, aching with every heartbeat. The room seemed to spin around me, the world fading into a nightmarish blur.

I clung to the last vestiges of my consciousness. What he’d do if I passed out wasn’t something I could survive.

I could survive a fist. But I couldn’t survive that.

Not after last night.

Finally, he stopped. Marco stood over me, his breathing heavy, his fists clenched at his sides like he was having to hold himself back from more.

I laid on the carpeted floor, now sullied with my blood, gasping for air, my body trembling with pain.

Without a word, he walked away, leaving me there in a pool of misery and relief…because at least he wasn’t going to rape me. The room was silent, save for my labored breaths and the distant sounds of the world outside.

When the door finally slammed, and I let myself slip into unconsciousness, all I could think was.

Last night had been worth it.