Pucking Forbidden Sneak Peek
Players Legacy, Book 2
A college hockey forbidden romance · Releasing September 18, 2026
Chapter One
Josie
The first mile was always the worst.
That was when I felt tired, when my legs felt wrong, when the air here felt different from the air back home. I’d learned years ago to push through it. By mile two, my body remembered what it was built for, and by mile three, there was nothing in my head at all. Just the slap of my shoes on pavement, the pull of my lungs, and the particular way autumn at Loveland smelled like cut grass and leaves and something that might have been hope if I let myself feel it.
This loop was the longest of the ones I’d mapped. As an 800m runner, I needed sprint work and longer endurance runs, and this route gave me both. The hill behind the athletics complex burned my quads, then I could settle into a pace along the flat stretch of the east quad perimeter, where the oaks had already started going gold.
Six miles, four routes mapped in three days, and this one was my favorite.
I was finally here.
Starting over had felt like failure for a long time. Now that I was actually here, it felt like a fresh start.
Loveland U had always been the plan, until two years ago, two weeks before enrollment, when my athletic scholarship evaporated in a politely worded letter with no real explanation. I’d spent months believing it was something I’d done wrong before I stopped letting myself think about it at all.
But I was here now, on an academic scholarship, working toward a sports marketing degree, and walk-on tryouts were in November.
And my boyfriend was here.
Just don’t forget that you’re here for you.
I was. Mostly. Small hiccup… he didn’t know I was here yet.
I knew what it looked like. We’d had a huge fight a week ago about not seeing each other enough, and I was still smarting from it.
Besides, I didn’t want his help moving in. I preferred to surprise him and make him see how serious I was about us. Once he saw me, he’d be excited.
My phone buzzed against my hip mid-stride. I slowed and pulled it out.
Marcus: Not up to much tonight. Just hanging at the house. HBU?
Oh. Perfect, actually. If he was already at the house, the surprise would be easier. I tapped out a quick reply.
Me: Not much. Might see a friend.
Marcus: Have fun. I’ll call you tomorrow.
He was going to love the surprise. I smiled at my phone like an idiot, stashed it, and pushed off into the last stretch.
I rounded the last curve, legs burning in the good way, already thinking about the shower and the lipstick I’d bought for tonight, and hit a wall.
It wasn’t a wall. It was a person, and he was solid and warm and didn’t move an inch. The impact knocked the air out of me in one ragged sound. I bounced back, stumbling, arms windmilling like an idiot, and two enormous hands caught me by the hips before I could eat pavement.
“Easy, Flash.”
The deep voice was unbothered and way too close.
I blinked up, and up, and up some more.
He had to be six-three. Maybe more. Shoulders wide enough to block out the sun, and I wasn’t being cute about it. I was literally standing in his shadow. His jaw looked like it had been carved on purpose. His russet hair was damp at the temples and pushed back like he’d been running too. And his eyes —
God, his eyes. They were meadow green, straight out of a Crayola box. His gaze slid over me slowly, clearly in no kind of rush. My face, traitorous fool that it was, went flaming hot.
“You good?” he asked. His hands stayed on my hips, warm and heavy, and he was in no hurry at all about taking them back. “That was a hell of a hit.”
“I — sorry.” My voice came out thinner than I meant it to. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Yeah, I got that when you launched into my sternum.” The corners of his lips tipped up slightly as he watched me. The way his gaze tracked over me was like he was taking mental notes. “Don’t apologize. Most interesting thing that’s happened to me all day.”
My breathing sped up to these shallow little gasps for some idiotic reason. I didn’t know what to do with that. My pulse was trying to climb out of my throat, and his hands were still on my hips, the heat of them soaking straight through to my skin.
“I —” I tried to step back. His hands slid away slowly, one palm at a time, like the instruction signals from the brain were on a delay. My skin tingled where he’d been. “I should’ve been watching.”
“You came in a little hot.” He tipped his head, considering me. “Which, for the record, I’m not mad about.”
My face flushed, and I knew it showed, because he noticed.
“You always run like that?” he asked, softer now.
“Like what?” It came out smaller than I wanted.
“Like you’re trying to qualify for something.”
“I — yeah.” My tongue felt thick. “I am.”
“Figures.” His eyes kept landing on my mouth. It was very rude. “Nobody runs like that for fun.”
I laughed. It came out small and startled, and I immediately wanted to take it back because it was the kind of laugh that admitted something. Something pleased crossed his face, like he’d been angling for exactly that. “What’s your name, Flash?” he asked.
What, we were giving out nicknames now? “That’s — not my name.”
“I know. I’m asking for the real one.” He angled his head and squinted his eyes to keep the sun’s glare out. It made him look a little less intimidating somehow.
Oh hell no. I wasn’t giving my name to some random. “I have to go.” The words tumbled out in a rush. I wasn’t even sure I meant them.
Yes, I did. No, I didn’t. I had no idea.
“Sure you do,” he said quietly, and for a second the charm dropped away and he was just looking at me, completely focused. Then it was gone so fast I could have imagined it. “But okay. I was just starting to like you.”
“You don’t even know me,” I said, and my voice came out breathless…breathless from a conversation on a sidewalk.
“That’s the problem, isn’t it, Flash?” he murmured, and he wasn’t smiling anymore. His gaze dropped once, slow, from my face to my running shoes and back up, taking its time, like he had every right. Something low in my belly pulled tight like a cord and my stomach flipped. “Easily fixable, though.”
“I really have to —”
“Go. I heard you.” He stepped aside and gave me room, but it felt like he was daring me to stay. A dimple appeared on the left side of his mouth, which was not fair at all.
“Goodbye,” I murmured.
“See you around, Flash.”
“You won’t.”
“Counteroffer,” he said as I started walking, not bothering to raise his voice, like he knew I was still listening. “I will.”
I did not look back for a full block and a half, at which point I did, and he was still standing exactly where I’d left him, watching me, one hand pushed through his damp hair. He just watched, patiently, like he had all damn day.
I ran the rest of the way home, still able to feel the imprint of his hands on my hips.
Girl. You have a boyfriend.
* * *
An hour and a half later, my everything shower was complete. I was about to surprise Marcus for the first time in six weeks, and I was not showing up as anything less than perfectly moisturized and smelling sublime. My hair was already done, thank God. All I had to do was refresh my edges, and my twist out was good to go. Day two hair was always the best hair. I tossed on jeans and the V-neck Marcus said he liked, then did my lipstick in the bathroom mirror and pretended my hands were steady.
My stomach did a small stupid flip.
Why are you nervous? He’ll be so excited to see you. Right?
Kappa Nu sat at the end of Greek Row like it owned the block, a renovated Victorian with a wraparound porch, freshly painted shutters, and the kind of landscaping that screamed alumni donors with deep pockets. String lights wrapped the railings in burnt orange and blue, the school colors, and they flickered unevenly. Music thumped from somewhere on the second floor. The front door was open, and bodies spilled down the porch steps. I climbed them, nodded to the guy checking names, then gave mine and stepped inside.
The smell of old beer hit first. Then the cheap cologne, weed and some fruity candle or air freshener followed for the kicker. Hockey sticks were mounted over the doorways like crossed swords, and framed jerseys lined the stairwell, going back God knows how many years. Red Solo cups trembled on every flat surface from the bass. The Kappa Nu boys had decorated their house like a museum of themselves, and somehow, it worked.
I held my cup of water with both hands and scanned the main room for Marcus.
I found him with his arm around a blond girl. It wasn’t a grip, just slung over her shoulders the way he used to sling it around me. She was laughing at something he’d said, her hand pressed flat against his chest, fingers splayed like they belonged there. He wasn’t laughing. He was watching her laugh with the slight, satisfied expression of a man confirming that his joke had landed.
My stomach dropped.
Don’t.
It was probably nothing. She was probably a friend. He had a million friends who were girls. He’d told me so, repeatedly, usually right before asking why I was being insecure.
I took a breath and took a step.
Then he saw me. His eyes went comically wide, his mouth dropped open, and he jerked his hand back like he’d been burned.
The blonde’s head snapped up at the loss of contact, and her gaze tracked straight to me. She looked me up and down once, slow, taking inventory, from my hair to my V-neck to the cup of water in my hands. She gave me a look that wasn’t anywhere near a smile.
I looked away first, and I hated that.
Coward.
“Josie?” Marcus’s voice cracked on the second syllable.
I crossed the room before I could lose my nerve. “Surprise.”
“What — you’re —” He dragged a hand through his hair and visibly reset his face. I watched him put away the version of himself who’d had his arm around another woman and switch to the one who was supposed to be happy to see me. “Babe. What are you doing here?”
“I go here now.”
He blinked. “You what?”
“I got in. Academic scholarship. I moved in three days ago.”
He stared for a long, long second, and I watched his jaw work once, twice, like he was chewing on something he couldn’t swallow.
Then his hand closed around my elbow, hard. It wasn’t the careful, guiding hand he used in public. His fingers dug in with enough pressure that I made a small involuntary sound I hoped he didn’t hear.
“Come here,” he said, smiling for the room. “Outside. Talk to me.”
He steered me into the hallway that ran toward the back of the house. My elbow throbbed under his hand. I kept my face neutral because people were watching and I was not about to let my first night on this campus be the girl who had a thing in the hallway with Marcus Kane.
The noise dimmed, and the crowd thinned to nobody.
He stopped at the base of the back stairs and turned to face me, and the easy smile was gone.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was low, tight.
“I wanted to surprise you.” I kept mine light, or tried to.
“Surprise me?” He laughed once, and it had no humor in it at all. “You moved. To my school. And you surprised me.”
“Marcus —”
“Do you know what it looks like, you showing up here, tonight, out of nowhere?” His other hand came up to rake through his hair, and when it came down, his jaw was set. “Do you know how that makes me look?”
Like the guy who had his arm around a blonde, I thought. I bit the inside of my cheek and did not say it.
“What does it look like?” I asked instead, as mildly as I could manage.
“Like I don’t know where my own girlfriend is.” His grip on my arm tightened. My heel pressed into the bottom step, and I had nowhere to go that wasn’t through him.
I had been here before. I knew that if I moved, he would tell me later that I had overreacted, that I was too sensitive, that he had barely touched me. I knew exactly how this went.
I didn’t step back, and I didn’t look at the floor.
“I have a right to be here.” My voice came out steady, which surprised us both. “Last I checked, I’m your girlfriend. You should be happy to see me. But even if you aren’t, I’m not here for you. I’m here for me.”
He went still.
He didn’t let go. He held on for a couple of seconds, long enough that I could feel my pulse in my arm under his fingers, and the hallway felt very small.
Then his grip loosened.
He didn’t let go entirely. His fingers stayed on my forearm, but the pressure was gone. It was just contact now, and his thumb started a slow, absent circle over the skin where he’d been gripping, like he could smooth it out before I noticed the print. His expression changed into something I had less practice reading. It wasn’t irritation exactly. It was more careful, like he was calculating.
“Hey.” The voice had shifted back to easy, a channel change, smooth and instant. “Baby. I’m sorry. Okay? You caught me off guard. That’s all. You know I hate surprises.”
I did know that.
“Come here,” he murmured, and tugged me into his chest. His hand came up to cradle the back of my head. He smelled like beer and the cologne I’d bought him for his birthday. For a second, I let myself sink into it because I had missed this. God help me, I had missed him, or at least the version of him I’d been rehearsing in my head for six weeks. “I’m happy you’re here. I just wish you’d told me. Next time, tell me. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He kissed the top of my head. The relief in my chest was so sharp it hurt.
“Come on.” He pulled back, smiling now, the easy one, the public one. “Let me get you a drink. I want you to meet everyone.”
He turned toward the main room, and because his hand had slid down to my wrist, I moved with him.
My elbow still tingled where he’d grabbed it. I rolled my arm, carefully, testing it.
Marcus walked me into the main room with his hand on the small of my back.
“Hey,” he said, loud enough to carry. One arm pulled me tight against his hip. “Everybody. This is Josie. My girlfriend. She just moved to Loveland, so the power couple is officially back.”
A couple of the guys whooped. Someone raised a cup.
Marcus’s grin widened, and he swept the room with a look I recognized from three years of watching him work a crowd. “So y’all heathens be nice to her. That means you too, Miller. Don’t think I didn’t see you checking her out.”
Laughter. Miller, whoever Miller was, flipped him off from across the room.
The blonde’s mouth pulled into a flat little smirk. She looked me up and down, slow, starting at my twist out and ending at my feet, and the smirk ticked up on one side like she’d decided I wasn’t a threat.
Great. Now I have a target on my back.
Marcus squeezed my hip, proud, proprietary. He pressed a red cup into my hand and moved me toward a guy in a backward cap, already saying something bright. His thumb stroked the back of my hand now, like the hallway had never happened.
I didn’t pull my hand away, but I didn’t sip the drink when he handed it to me, either.
And somewhere in the back of my skull, unbidden, a voice said, low and certain,
Counteroffer. I will.
Girl. You have a boyfriend, I reminded myself.
It came out less convincing than it had a couple of hours ago.
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