Page 46 of The Pucking Date (Defenders Diaries #3)

Jace straightens slightly. Still cool. But I can feel it, the subtle shift. The realization that something just changed.

Finn’s voice cuts through the noise, rough and Southern, like gravel under a boot. “Didn’t realize we were hostin’ a damn social hour back here.”

Jace just smiles, lazy and unbothered. “Didn’t know she was yours to claim, Golden Boy.”

I stiffen. Yours to claim ?

Finn doesn’t blink. Just shifts his weight, mouth tight, gaze flicking to me, then right back to Jace. “She ain’t mine,” Finn says, too quick, voice flat as hammered steel .

Jace’s smile edges wider. “Good to know. Wouldn’t wanna step on any toes.”

Finn’s grin comes slow, tight, cold, and all teeth. “Ain’t no toes in my way.”

Jace lifts his hands, still smiling, but there’s a flicker of understanding and respect there. “Well then,” he says, easy as sunshine, “guess I’ll let y’all catch up.”

He steps back, slow and smooth, the retreat casual but clear. And even with the space between them growing, I can still feel it. The air crackles. And I know him well enough to read the truth in that restraint. He’s not over it.

Not even close.

He locks eyes with me for a long moment. I can feel my heart clench. And maybe I should say something. Like, “Y’all done measuring dicks or should I come back later?”

But I let it go. Because as much as I want to roll my eyes at being treated like a tree to stake claim on, part of me is just glad he can’t help but want to.

I stand there, breath shallow, soaked in regret and adrenaline.

He steps in front of me, close, but not enough to reach. His chest rises steady. His eyes stay locked on the wall behind me. But he’s not walking away.

“You didn’t want me here,” I start. No flicker. Just a clenched jaw and silence. “I tried to call; you weren’t picking up. So I came.”

Still nothing. But he shifts his gaze to my face for a second, then looks away again.

“I was wrong.” It drops from my mouth, no buildup, no framing.

“I was wrong to not let you in. Wrong not to tell you. Wrong not to trust you. And I’m sorry.

I know that probably doesn’t mean much now, but I need you to hear me. ”

I see his throat work as he swallows hard. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t flinch. Just listens.

“You did everything to show me how much I meant to you. How serious you were about us.” I pause.

“You scored for me. Danced. Sang. Learned a damn figure skating lift.” I take a deep inhale.

“You swept me off my feet every single day. You made it so clear I wasn’t a fluke or a fling.

Everyone saw it. I was the only one who couldn’t.

Because I didn’t believe I was worthy of your love. ”

His shoulders shift, barely. A muscle ticks in his jaw.

“I told myself I couldn’t tell you yet. That it was to protect you. That I didn’t want to mess with your career or box you in. But that was a lie. I wasn’t protecting you; I was hiding. From the idea that someone like you could want me.”

Another beat. Still quiet. But he’s listening.

“I was scared to let you love me that much. Of having something that real and not knowing how to hold on to it.”

I take a breath. Step closer. But he takes a step back, like he’s afraid to let me back in.

“You stayed. You showed up, even when I gave you every reason not to. And I didn’t let myself believe it, because if I did.

..I’d have to admit I didn’t love myself enough.

” His eyes finally meet mine, and I feel myself breaking apart piece by piece.

“I should’ve told you the second I knew.

You deserved that. You deserved everything I couldn’t give you. ”

His hands clench into fists, then release. When he finally speaks, his voice is raw. “I still wear the bracelet you tied on my wrist,” he says slowly. “Even when I thought I’d lost you forever. Because it was the only piece of you I had left.”

My breath catches. “You kept it?”

“Never took it off.” His eyes meet mine. “Couldn’t.”

“I love you,” I say. “I think I started falling the moment I walked into the Defenders complex and you began circling me, charming, relentless, impossible to ignore. You were all in from day one. I just wasn’t brave enough to match you.”

He still doesn’t move. But slowly, his arms uncross. His hands fall to his sides, no longer fists, no longer armor. Just open. Exposed. Like maybe, he’s not trying to guard his heart anymore.

“I’m not here to ask for forgiveness. I’m just asking for a chance.

This time, I show up. This time, I stay.

Not because of the pregnancy. Not because it’s right.

Because I’m in love with you, and I’m done running.

No escape plan. No exit strategy. Just me, ready to be yours… if you’ll still have me.”

Silence. His gaze stays locked on mine. I wait for the blow that will break me.

But it doesn’t come. What comes is worse.

Nothing.

He grits his teeth. His hands flex at his sides, his whole body coiled.

“You should’ve told me,” he says finally. Quiet. Devastating. “You should’ve trusted me with this.”

I nod. I don’t argue.

“You broke something,” he adds, jaw working like he’s fighting a war between his head and his heart.

“And I don’t know if I can put it back the way it was.

” He runs both hands through his hair, and for a terrifying second, I think he’s going to walk away.

Leave me standing here with my heart in pieces on this gym floor.

‘Finn, please?—’

He just stands there, shoulders rigid.

“I’m not asking for the way it was.” My voice cracks. “I’m asking for a shot at what it could be. I’m asking you to let me earn back what I threw away. I’m asking you to let me love you the way you deserve. ”

For a heartbeat, we just stare at each other. And I see it, the exact moment his walls crumble. The moment love wins over fear.

He drops the towel. Takes two slow steps that feel like forever. And then he’s crushing me against him, desperate, fierce, like he’s afraid I might disappear again.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispers against my hair, voice broken. “Christ, Red, I thought I lost you forever.”

“Never,” I breathe into his neck. “You’re stuck with me now. No more running.”

“Good,” he growls, pulling me closer. “Because I’m never letting you go again.”