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CHAPTER 122 - NO AGENDA
publish date:
2026-05-19 00:12:57
Latest chapter
PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE CHAPTER 123 - FIVE SECONDS
The cold hit me like a wall when we stepped outside.I swayed. The sidewalk tilting under my feet – not dramatically, just enough to remind me that three whiskeys on an empty stomach was a decision made by a woman who’d stopped making good ones. Caleb’s hand on my elbow. Steadying. Functional. The automatic gesture of someone walking a drunk person out of a bar, and I didn’t pull away because pulling away from a steadying hand when your legs aren’t working is performative, not principled.“Let me call you a car,” he said.“I’m fine.”I wasn’t fine. I was leaning against the brick wall outside the bar because the wall was solid and my legs had decided they were done being reliable for the evening. The brick was cold through my jacket. The air smelled like rain and garbage and the particular staleness of a street that existed between closing time and dawn. Caleb was standing in front of me. Close. Not crowding – present. His voice still doing the thing from inside. Soft. Low. The regist
PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE CHAPTER 122 - NO AGENDA
NAOMI’S POVThe bar wasn’t the one where I met Rhys.I chose it specifically because it wasn’t. Different side of town. Darker. The kind of place with sticky floors and a bartender who didn’t make eye contact and a jukebox that played songs from a decade nobody in the room was nostalgic for. No warm lighting. No charged strangers at the end of the counter. No possibility of a man with bruised knuckles sliding a drink toward me and changing my entire life.I wanted a bar where nothing could happen.I sat at the counter and ordered whiskey because whiskey was what my father drank and I was too tired to make an original choice. The first one burned. The second one didn’t. The third one tasted like nothing at all and I stared at the wood grain and tried to remember the last time I’d felt like a person instead of a crime scene that people kept walking through with opinions about the evidence.It was a Wednesday. I’d gone to two classes. Sat in the back of both. Taken no notes. The words on
PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE CHAPTER 121 - INNOCENT
RHYS’ POVHer laptop wasn’t on the counter.That was the thing I couldn’t stop noticing. Not the silence. Not the dark. The counter. The specific square of granite where she’d set it every time she came over – lid open, charger trailing to the outlet behind the microwave, the cursor blinking on whatever she was writing while I cooked and she pretended to help and we both knew the food was an excuse to exist in the same room.The counter was empty. Had been for weeks. I stopped turning on the kitchen light because the kitchen light meant seeing the counter and the counter meant seeing the absence and the absence was louder than anything she’d ever left behind.3 AM. My apartment. The kind of dark that happens when you stop opening blinds because daylight requires performing and I didn’t have the energy to perform. The chipped blue mug – the one she said had character, the one she wrapped both hands around like it was keeping her alive – was in the cabinet. Face down. So I wouldn’t see
PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE CHAPTER 12O - EXHAUSTION
The ceiling had nothing left to teach me.I’d been staring at it since midnight as I listened to Sienna’s breathing from the other bed.My phone was face down on the nightstand because face up meant checking. Checking meant either the silence of his name not appearing or the cruelty of Maeve’s latest post, and I couldn’t survive either at 2 AM with my defences running on empty.My body was exhausted. My brain wouldn’t stop.His hands on my waist in the kitchen. The sound he made against my neck in the shower – that low, involuntary sound that came from somewhere deeper than performance. The motorcycle lookout. Stars. Cold air. His jacket around my shoulders, too big, smelling like leather and him. The way he said my name like he was tasting something for the first time and didn’t want to swallow.The memories arrived intrusively and I was furious.Not at him. At my body. At the biological machinery that didn’t care about betrayal or timestamps or the word detour still lodged between m
PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE CHAPTER 119 - PURE RAGE
My depression didn’t announce itself. It moved in quietly, like water under a door – by the time I noticed the damage, the floor was already soaked.I missed my first assignment deadline on a Wednesday. Victorian Literature. A close reading of Wuthering Heights that I’d outlined in my notebook two weeks ago and then never opened again because the notebook now had a different purpose and every time I reached for it my hands found evidence instead of essays.I saw the notification – ASSIGNMENT OVERDUE – and felt a distant pulse of something that might have been panic in a woman who still had room for academic panic. I didn’t have room. The panic space was occupied.I missed the second deadline on Friday. Poetry Analysis. The one I could normally write in my sleep – metaphor identification, line-by-line breakdown, the mechanical work of a woman who understood language the way mechanics understood engines. I sat at my desk and opened the document and stared at the cursor blinking on a whi
PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE CHAPTER 118 - NOT FOR LONG
Zara’s apartment at 3 AM looked like a crime scene investigating itself.Two laptops open on the coffee table. Four coffee cups in various stages of empty. Printed pages spread across the carpet in rows I’d organized by category – timeline on the left, access records in the middle, phone data on the right. Zara was cross-legged on the floor in an oversized Howard sweatshirt with her glasses on and her braids pulled back and the expression of a woman who hadn’t slept in thirty-one hours and had no intention of starting.I was sitting in the middle of the paper. Surrounded by evidence. And feeling, for the first time since the corridor, something that wasn’t grief.Focus. Cold and clean and purposeful, like stepping out of hot water into air conditioning. The shift had happened somewhere between the second and third hour on this carpet – the moment I stopped being the girl crying in an empty corridor and became the woman building the case that would end Caleb Park.“The app is called Nu
PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE CHAPTER 52 - 2AM
I couldn't sleep.Twelve days on my childhood bed and I still couldn't sleep in it. The mattress remembered a version of me that didn't exist anymore – the fifteen-year-old version that was grieving and small enough to curl into the corner and disappear. The woman lying in it now was too big for th
Last Updated : 2026-04-05PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE CHAPTER 53 - MOM
She was sitting at the kitchen table when I came downstairs.Coffee in front of her. Both hands wrapped around the mug. Not drinking – holding. The way people hold things when they need an anchor and the nearest one is ceramic. She was wearing the flannel pajamas again. Second day in a row. Whateve
Last Updated : 2026-04-05PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE CHAPTER 50 - THE CALLS
My childhood bedroom was a museum of a girl who no longer existed.Participation trophies from softball lined the shelf above my desk – the sport I'd quit at fifteen when Dad died and everything that wasn't survival stopped mattering. A cork board above my bed still pinned with movie tickets and ph
Last Updated : 2026-04-04PUCKED BY MY STEPBROTHER: A FORBIDDEN HOCKEY ROMANCE CHAPTER 42 - HALF THE STORY
I sat in the driveway for eleven minutes before I could make my hands stop shaking long enough to turn off the engine.My mom's voice was still in my ears – how COULD you and I'm finally happy and fix it – playing on a loop that got louder every time I tried to think past it. I'd driven here becaus
Last Updated : 2026-03-31
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