All Chapters of SCORED HER HEART, NOT THE PUCK.: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

THANE'S POV:"I'm so sorry, Eden," Elise said as she walked in, looking harried but beautiful in that effortless way she'd always had. She was one of those women who somehow managed to look put-together even while chasing two small children—perfectly styled blonde hair, designer jeans that actually fit, and a smile that had probably helped her land my brother in the first place. I still wasn't entirely sure how Vaughan had convinced her to marry him. Maybe it was his terrible sense of humor or his intelligence."Don't be silly," Mom waved her off. "You're right on time! Sit, sit. There's plenty for everyone."Elise's face lit up when she spotted me. "Thane! You look amazing!" She came around the table to give me a warm hug, careful not to disturb Zoey who was now playing with my watch."You spoil those kids," she said fondly as I helped Max cut his pasta while simultaneously keeping Zoey entertained."Yes, because I absolutely love them," I replied, meaning every word. These two wer

MADISON'S POV:Since yesterday, I haven’t been able to scrub that kiss from my mind. It clung to me, ambushing me when I least expected it—while brushing my teeth, standing under the shower, even folding my scrubs. Out of nowhere, I’d feel his mouth on mine again, intoxicating with the smell of peppermint, hear that low sound he made when I kissed him back like I couldn’t breathe without it. His hand at my waist scorched me through the memory, searing hotter every time I replayed it. Even in the middle of paperwork, pen in hand, I’d lose focus—suddenly it was his fingers in my hair, tugging, claiming, undoing me all over again.Last night, I buried my face in my pillow and kicked my legs under the blanket, half-giddy, half-ashamed—like some girl in love for the first time. I hated that he could live rent-free in my head like this.Thank God he'd canceled today's session. I wasn't ready to face him yet, wasn't ready to pretend that everything between us hadn't fundamentally shifted

THANE'S POV:It wasn’t my father’s flattery that kept me at the gala. If I was being honest with myself, it was the fleeting glimpses of Madison across the room—moments I wished I could erase, yet found myself chasing like a desperate fool. Each time I caught her laughing beside Maverick, her hand brushing his arm, it was like swallowing glass—sharp, jagged, impossible to ignoreThe men’s restroom was as extravagant as the rest of the place. Neat and beautifully decorated. Even the hand towels felt like silk between my fingers.I had just turned off the faucet, shaking the water from my hands, when the door slammed open. Maverick rushed in, chest heaving like he’d been running. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool air. His hands raked through his hair, wrecking what had been perfectly styled. This wasn’t casual concern—this was terror."What the hell—" I started.He didn’t even glance at me, muttering under his breath, "Have you seen her?" “Who?” I straightened. “My girl,”

MADISON'S POV:The incident at the gala wasn't what killed me inside—it was seeing evil people like the Wallaces happy and whole while I crumbled. I'd resorted to finding a private investigator, more serious than ever, though I'd been meeting nothing but dead ends since the day I set my mind to using one. I finally stumbled upon one that looked nothing like someone who could get the job done, but left with no choice and desperate, I went with him.I started pulling away from Maverick and Thane. For sanity, for survival, for anything that felt like control. Especially after Maverick's mom paid me an unexpected visit, hurling insults and mockery at me. She'd vividly warned me to stay away from her son, both as friends or whatever she thought was going on."I'm his mother and I know what's best for him. That means I know you'll be the worst thing to happen to him,"* she had said, refusing to sit. She claimed my house looked like a place infested with bugs. *"Standing here is a risk beca

THANE'S POV:Growing up, my mother had been a perfectionist who'd vacuum the same room twice and organize her spice rack alphabetically and by expiration date. I'd inherited that need for order, that physical discomfort when things were chaotic."This is insane," I muttered, but I was already moving. "She's sick, not dead. She'll understand."I started in the living room, trying not to judge too harshly as I gathered takeout containers that belonged in a museum of food archaeology. The magazines went into neat stacks—after I quickly flipped past the ones with my face on them, because that was still deeply weird. Moving to the kitchenette, I gagged at the state of her sink. How did someone accumulate this many dishes in such a small space? I rolled up my sleeves and got to work, scrubbing and organizing while trying not to think about what some of those stains might be.In the bedroom, I was stripping dirty sheets when something moved in the corner."JESUS CHRIST!" I jumped backward,