Puck, Marry, Thrill: Chapter 12

Jamie sat curled up on the corner of the couch, the worn blanket Kenneth always insisted she use tucked around her legs like a cocoon. The late afternoon light filtered through the curtains, golden and soft, casting a gentle glow across the living room. In her hands, her phone felt warm from constant use; the screen smudged with fingerprints as she scrolled slowly, almost reverently, through the photos she’d taken that morning.

Her thumb paused mid-swipe, her breath catching when she reached that picture.

Kenneth stood with his back to the camera, his broad shoulders filling the entire frame in that snug, navy-blue hockey jersey. His last name stretched boldly across his shoulder blades, the number beneath it crisp and perfect. But it wasn’t just him that made the photo strike her right in the chest—it was Zachary, perched happily on his father’s shoulders, tiny arms wrapped securely around Kenneth’s head, his cheek pressed against the top of his dad’s head in pure, innocent joy.

Those little jeans from The Children’s Place—how many times had she picked those exact pants out of the laundry basket? How many mornings had she smiled at those wiggly little buns as she wrangled her son into them, always on the go, always full of life? The cuteness of it—the contrast between Kenneth’s powerful frame and Zachary’s tiny body—was nearly too much.

And the name. Their name. His name.

Her family.

A smile tugged at her lips, soft at first, then full-blown as emotion welled up and nearly spilled over. She held the phone tighter— like the image might dissolve if she didn’t cling to it with both hands. It wasn’t just a picture—it was a portrait of everything she hadn’t dared hope for.

Priceless.

Jamie blinked hard, swallowing the lump that suddenly formed in her throat. She had to admit, no matter how fast everything had happened—how suddenly their lives had merged—Kenneth had shown up in ways that mattered— In the ways that counted. He didn’t just say things to pacify her; he proved them with action. With effort. With quiet, everyday care that spoke louder than grand gestures ever could.

He hadn’t barged into her life, demanding space. He’d gently made room for himself—like sunlight filtering into a dark room, warming the cold corners she thought were beyond thawing. He didn’t try to fix her or change her. He simply saw her—and it undid her.

There were “How can I help you?” moments—soft, sincere offerings that made her feel like she wasn’t alone in the world anymore. He never swooped in with a savior complex. He stood beside her, offering his hand but never pulling her forward unless she asked.

There were “I value you” moments—words said without flourish, spoken like truths he’d always known. Little things, like the way he listened to her opinions or the way he’d pause before making decisions, glancing her way as if needing her insight.

And then, there were the “Let me take care of you” moments. Moments that stripped her bare—not physically, but emotionally and spiritually. He handled her like something delicate, not because he thought she was weak, but because he understood how much she’d been dropped in the past.

Jamie remembered the guy she’d dated once—one of those smug, low-effort men who made her feel like she was in the way. Like she had to apologize for needing anything at all. Three dates in, she saw the pattern wasn’t an accident. He didn’t want a partner; he wanted someone to manage. And she’d walked away without regret.

Kenneth had a pattern, too. But his was one of reverence. Admiration. Encouragement. He made her feel like a work of art he got to hold—not own—and that difference mattered.

And the more he gave? The more Jamie wanted to rattle him. Push his buttons in the best ways. Tease him until his cheeks went pink, and his hands trembled with how much he wanted her. Not out of cruelty but because she saw him too. And he loved being seen.

He’d try to protest, his voice all fluster and logic, but he never pulled away. He leaned in. He craved it—and she gave it with a wicked grin and a heart full of affection.

She’d taken “lady in the street, hussy between the sheets” to a whole new level, and he adored her for it. Their marriage wasn’t built on wild passion for the sake of it. It was an intimacy rooted in trust. Vulnerability. A desire to pour love into every crack they each had.

She showed him—over and over again—that her affection wasn’t a phase. It was a choice. A declaration. A whisper in the dark. She proved it in every sultry text, every lingering look across the room, every mischievous whisper in his ear when no one else was listening.

Jamie loved his mind. His quiet strength. His loyalty. She loved his heart, tender and open in a way the world rarely saw. And yes, she loved the rest of him, too—with devotion, with glee, with every breath she had to give.

And he? He let her.

And that… that was everything.

Her thoughts halted as Kenneth peered around the kitchen wall to look at her, smiling. “Hot tea?”

“Yes, please,” she replied and then started. “Actually,” she began again, hesitating as she moved to help him, “I’ll make it if you want to…”

But she stopped mid-step, eyes catching on the sight before her. Kenneth was already walking toward her, the steam from the cup in his hand curling into the air like smoke rising from a quiet fire. In his other hand—was a box. She blinked.

“You already made it,” she murmured, disbelief and warmth mingling in her tone as she smiled at him.

“I did.”

Her smile widened, eyes narrowing in suspicion at the box. “What are you up to?”

“About five foot ten—six foot with my skates,” he smirked.

Jamie laughed, her heart giving a happy lurch at his teasing. It was so him—a blend of humor, charm, and a little mischief tucked into every word. She took the cup he offered, letting the warmth seep into her fingers and chest. But something about his posture tugged at her attention. His movements were easy, but there was a strange energy simmering under the surface.

“Seriously. What is going on?” she asked.

“We’re celebrating,” he whispered, his voice low and slightly conspiratorial. Then he winked. “Don’t open that without me. I’m going to grab some tea, too.”

“Kenneth…” she said, her voice tilting with curiosity.

“I’m serious, Jamie. No peeking.”

“All right,” she relented, amused, and sat down again, the cushion sighing under her weight. She tucked her legs beneath her and cradled the mug close, sipping slowly. The tea was perfect—strong and sweet, just the way she liked it. Of course, he remembered. She watched him as he returned with his own cup, and her smile faded into something more tender.

He looked nervous. Really nervous.

His eyes met hers for a moment before flicking away, and then he swallowed hard. The movement of his throat was tight. His hand brushed down the front of his shirt as if to smooth out wrinkles, but it felt more like a nervous tic than anything else.

Was he sweating? Were his palms actually sweating?

Her heart pinched, aching with affection. Dang, I love this guy, she thought, the realization deep and quiet inside her chest like a prayer.

“Something on your mind?” she asked gently, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got something on mine…”

The effect was instant. Kenneth choked, tea spraying from his mouth in a spectacular mist before he doubled over coughing. Jamie couldn’t help herself—she burst out laughing, hand over her mouth, and quickly grabbed a handful of tissues from the box next to her. She passed them to him, her grin smug and gleeful.

Then she stood, still laughing, and went to the kitchen for a towel. She took her time, not out of necessity but because she was soaking in the moment. Teasing him like that—getting a rise out of him—it was playful, familiar, and sweet. And yeah, maybe it was a little suggestive.

Was it worth it? Oh yeah. I’d do it again and again, she thought, biting her lip as she returned, crouching to clean the table with deliberate care. Just to see him flustered like that.

“Dang Jamie,” he rasped, voice still raw from coughing. “We might need to set down some rules or something.”

“Fair enough,” she said with a shrug, raising her eyebrows at him, teasing again—because how could she resist? “I’m good with anything you want to try in the bedroom, but we should probably have a safe word.”

“I’m not talking about that.”

“Oh.”

“When the other person is eating or drinking—we refrain.”

She blinked, setting down her cup. “Refrain from…?”

Kenneth’s voice dropped, that familiar rasp curling through her like warm smoke. “Stuff.”

Jamie grinned, tilting her head playfully. “Perfect. I can refrain from stuff. Let’s talk about stuff – I hate doing laundry anyhow. I’m all for passing off that stuff to someone else. Got any ideas who should do it? I’m liking these new rules and will happily refrain from…”

“Sweetheart,” he rasped, chuckling softly, and the sound sent a ripple of pleasure through her. It was that tone—the one he used when he was trying not to laugh; when he was both amused and entirely overwhelmed by her. “I’m talking about how if one of us is drinking or eating, maybe we don’t talk about sex… and I will be happy to do the laundry if you want?”

Her heart did a slow somersault. That offer, casual as it was, touched something deep in her. The thought of him folding her shirts or tossing in a load of towels was somehow more intimate than anything else they’d shared.

“Oh gawrsh – can you get any sexier?” she sighed, letting her voice take on a dreamy lilt. With a teasing glint in her eyes, she reached for the top button of her blouse, fingers brushing the soft fabric.

His reaction was immediate and priceless.

“Hang on…” he stammered, eyes going wide, color blooming across his cheeks as he reached out quickly, his palm closing gently over her hand to stop her.

“Tell me that in the bedroom.”

“Jamie!” he hissed, utterly scandalized. He looked as if he were balancing on a wire—halfway between panic and desire, and she couldn’t help but laugh softly at the sight.

She finally relented, stopping her playful advance. Tilting her head, she studied him, trying to read the expression behind his flushed face. “What?”

“You’ve gotta stop.”

“You don’t want to?”

“I never said that…”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Jamie’s voice had softened, uncertainty flickering beneath her playful exterior. She watched as Kenneth hesitated, his gaze locking onto hers with a seriousness that made her breath hitch. Slowly, he reached past her. Her pulse quickened as his arm brushed against her, warm and steady. He didn’t break eye contact, even as his fingers closed around something on the end table.

The box.

Time stilled.

Her breath caught as he leaned back holding the small velvet box in one hand. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he swallowed hard, emotion swelling in the space between them. She saw something flicker in his eyes—hope, fear, love—all layered together in one raw, breathtaking moment.

“I want more,” he said quietly.

Jamie’s heart thudded so loud she was sure he could hear it. Every ounce of teasing melted away as she stared at him, wide-eyed, lips parted in stunned silence. Her chest ached with the sheer force of feeling welling up inside her.

Jamie wasn’t sure what she expected when he started talking—but it wasn’t this.

Not this level of intensity. Not this kind of vulnerability.

He wasn’t just talking about a moment, a kiss, or a touch.

He was talking about everything.

She blinked up at him, startled by the weight of his words. The quiet way he said them only made them hit harder.

“More what?”

“More between us.”

Her chest tightened, a ripple of unease fluttering through her. Her heart was already beating a little too fast, and now she felt her throat closing. What did he mean? Had she done something wrong? Had she not been enough?

“How much more? I’m trying to do everything I can to make you feel special, but if there’s something more you need and I’m not doing it – it’s because I haven’t thought of it. Maybe you should tell…”

She was panicking. The words rushed out before she could catch them, the fear in her voice rising with every syllable. She didn’t want to fail him. Didn’t want him to feel unfulfilled or overlooked or unloved. It was her worst nightmare—that somehow, despite everything she poured into this, it still wasn’t enough.

And then… he smiled.

That soft, disarming smile that always stopped her heart mid-beat. The kind of smile that reached his eyes and made her forget how to breathe.

Her voice faltered. Fell apart in the hush between them.

“Jamie, I don’t think there is more you could do, sweetheart,” he said gently, his tone like velvet, wrapping around the edges of her frayed nerves. “I want more out of our relationship because I want you to love me someday – like I love you.”

And then he opened the box.

Jamie froze.

Her brain couldn’t process what she was seeing for a second. The small velvet box nestled in his palm. The diamond inside catching the light, shimmering with a promise she hadn’t dared to hope for. A wedding ring.

She blinked once. Then again.

Her eyes shot up to meet his, and it was like the ground dropped out from under her.

She felt herself crumbling—brick by brick, piece by piece.

The armor she always wore—her tough-girl act, the constant need to seem in control, unshaken, a little untouchable—that mask of strength that had carried her through heartbreaks and disappointments and everything in between… it shattered. It couldn’t hold up to the look in his eyes or the softness of his voice.

Her lip wobbled.

Her chest ached with the force of the emotions pressing against her ribcage.

And just like that, she was undone.

“Sweetheart?” he whispered, so tender it nearly broke her. His fingers brushed her cheek, anchoring her in the moment. “Is this okay?”

“I’m not gonna cry,” she said, though her voice cracked and her throat burned. She tried to laugh but it came out wobbly and tear-soaked. Her hand reached up, trembling, to press his hand against her skin. She leaned into it like she could draw strength from his touch, kissing his palm. “I’m dreaming, aren’t I? This is all a dream, and I’m going to be suddenly sitting on a potty – and then wake up sitting in a puddle.”

His laugh, tearful and full of stunned joy, made her laugh too—even through the tears.

“Oh gosh,” he chuckled. “I never would have guessed you saying that when I told you that I love you – and you aren’t dreaming, Sweetheart.”

“This is real?”

He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in the gentlest kiss she’d ever known.

“I love you – and this is real.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, voice thick with tears as one slid down her cheek. The instant she said it, she felt the way his body tensed—like he was holding his breath.

“You do?”

“Oh my gosh, yes,” she breathed, unable to keep it in a moment longer. “I think you are incredible and…”

“Same,” he said with a soft laugh, eyes glistening. “I think you’re incredible too. I just wanted you to look at me in the same way, and I was scared that maybe you might not be happy with me someday or…”

“Not happy? Not happy?” Her voice rose with disbelief, shaking with emotion. “How could I ever be less than happy when I wake up every morning wondering if I’m dreaming or awake because I never imagined that I could meet someone like you – and it turns out – you were right next door the whole time.”

“I know,” he said, tears in his own eyes now. “I had no idea and cannot imagine life without you ever again.”

Jamie clung to his hand like a lifeline, her heart wide open and unguarded for the first time in what felt like forever.

She hadn’t expected to feel this much. Not all at once. Not like this.

He held his breath, his eyes locked on her face—the woman who had turned his world upside down with a smile, who had wormed her way past every wall he thought he’d firmly built. And now, as she looked at him with so much love it felt like his heart might split from the pressure, he knew something deep in his bones: this was it. This was forever.

She knew it too—he could see it in the shimmer of tears dancing in her eyes, in the quiver of her lip as she smiled.

“Good thing, too, because it will never happen. You’re stuck with me.”

“I’m glad.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

Her voice was soft, full of wonder, and something that sounded a lot like awe, and it hit Jamie like a wave. His hands trembled just slightly as he lifted the small velvet box and pulled the ring free. Slowly, carefully, like he was touching something sacred, he slid the band onto her finger. It fit perfectly—like it had been waiting for that very moment, like it belonged nowhere else but there.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

Jamie looked up, eyes full of emotion. “You’re beautiful – mind, body, and soul,” he said, and meant every word with every inch of his being. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the ring reverently, a quiet kind of worship in the motion. She didn’t even realize how much she gave him just by being herself.

“You don’t have to do all those outrageous things to win me over…”

“You don’t like me playing with you?”

“I love it – but if you don’t feel like it…”

Jamie felt her breath catch in her throat as he spoke, his words threading through the air with a tenderness that never failed to undo her. She froze for a second, heart thudding because it wasn’t just what he said—it was the way he said it. Soft. Certain. Like loving her was as natural to him as breathing.

“It’s my greatest thrill to watch you blush across the room when you read a text message – or see your eyes cross when I whisper something in your ear.”

His laugh came then—low and a little sheepish—and Jamie soaked it in like sunlight after rain.

“Oh man, I do love some of the things you do…” He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes dropping for a moment like he was suddenly shy. “I’d love it if you kept doing those things. It makes me feel like a million bucks.”

Something warm and fierce bloomed in Jamie’s chest. She never thought she’d be someone’s safe place, someone’s joy—but here he was, looking at her like she was magic and mischief all rolled into one.

“Then consider it a rule in our marriage – because I enjoy blowing your mind, Snack Cake.”

The words rolled off her tongue with playful boldness, but there was a tremble underneath—an ache that came from loving him so deeply it made her bones feel it. She grinned, unable to stop herself. That ridiculous, endearing nickname. That unfiltered affection. That heart.

“I love you,” he murmured, the words soaked in devotion as he pulled her into him like the world could end any minute, and he didn’t want to miss another second.

Jamie melted against his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling his strength wrapped around her. This man, this love—it was everything she hadn’t known she was waiting for.

“I love you too – now – we should go to the bedroom right now. I cannot let little Zachary see his step-mama rock his daddy’s world. The poor boy would be scarred for life if he got a glimpse in my head…”

He let out a wicked little laugh, and before she could blink, he scooped her up in one smooth, strong motion, tossing her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing at all.

“You got it,” he said, with a gleam in his eye and all the joy of a man who knew exactly what he had. “You gonna let me get a peek into that mind of yours?”

“You got a front-row seat, Kenneth…”

“Hallelujah,” he sighed – and gave her backside a playful swat.

Jamie let out a delighted squeal, and the laugh that escaped her lips was wild and uncontained—pure happiness. It wrapped around her heart like a ribbon, tying her to this moment, to this man, to this life she’d never dreamed would be hers.

She rested her cheek against his back, holding on tightly. Her heart was full, almost too full.

This was hers.

This was love.

And she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

The Novel will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!