Wrong Score by Kenna King Summary, Characters and Themes
Wrong Score by Kenna King is a contemporary romance novel set against the competitive, high-stakes world of professional hockey. At its heart is the Seattle Hawkeyes team, but the real focus is on the emotional journey of its head coach, Bexley “Bex” Townsend, and a relentless sports journalist, Rowan Summers.
The story builds tension from a professional clash that transforms into a deeply personal connection, exploring themes of control, trauma, ambition, and redemption. Through dual perspectives, readers witness two wounded people slowly open up, challenge each other, and ultimately discover that vulnerability can be a strength, not a weakness.
Summary
Rowan Summers is a sports journalist chasing her big break while carrying the pain of infertility and a failed past relationship. She’s been assigned to cover the Seattle Hawkeyes, with a focus on the team’s guarded head coach, Bexley “Bex” Townsend.
Bex, a former hockey star turned coach after a career-ending injury, is determined to maintain strict control over his team and his private life. He’s fiercely protective of his players, particularly goalie Reeve Aisa, who is still recovering emotionally and physically from a hit-and-run accident.
Rowan’s presence, with her probing questions and unapologetic ambition, threatens to disrupt Bex’s careful world, especially since he can’t seem to ignore her, no matter how hard he tries.
Their mutual animosity becomes complicated when it’s clear there’s a deeper undercurrent of attraction. Bex is irritated by Rowan’s relentless curiosity, but also intrigued by her insight, wit, and authenticity.
She challenges his assumptions and gets under his skin in a way no one else has. Likewise, Rowan is both frustrated and fascinated by Bex’s blunt personality and quiet moments of tenderness.
Their dynamic shifts after a tense interaction during a turbulent plane ride almost ends in a kiss, cracking the walls between them.
Bex’s complexity begins to unravel further as the story progresses. He’s haunted by past betrayals and the weight of leading a team to the Stanley Cup.
His distrust of journalists stems from experience, but Rowan’s behavior begins to contradict his expectations. She shows care for the team’s wellbeing, especially in her decision to protect Keely—a player’s partner—from potential fallout regarding her father’s criminal past.
Rowan isn’t chasing a scandal; she’s working with compassion and a strong moral compass, which throws Bex’s suspicions into question.
Even as professional boundaries blur, Bex remains wary. When Rowan visits him to discuss the team and their growing tension, a conversation spirals into a passionate encounter—but it’s clouded by miscommunication and insecurity.
Bex accuses her of exploiting the team for a story, dismissing their intimacy as calculated. This moment causes a painful rift.
However, he soon realizes Rowan was working to shield the team, not exploit it, and guilt sets in. Rowan, disillusioned and hurt, distances herself emotionally, though she continues to protect the players in her reporting.
Their paths continue to cross, particularly during a birthday outing at a local bar. Bex quietly celebrates his own birthday, sharing a vulnerable moment with Rowan that hints at his desire for something real between them.
When he admits that his birthday wish was to have one chance to see what they could be together, the walls between them finally begin to lower. This sets the tone for deeper intimacy.
Bex slowly steps into Rowan’s world, including her apartment, where they connect on a more emotional level than ever before.
But trust remains fragile. In a quiet moment of affection, Bex leaves thoughtful gifts in Rowan’s rink seat—symbols of a growing care he doesn’t know how to express aloud.
His jealousy flares when he sees another man near her, leading to another passionate but emotionally volatile encounter. Rowan struggles with her feelings and the uncertainty of where they stand, especially after discovering she might be pregnant—a revelation made all the more shocking by her prior diagnosis of infertility.
The stakes heighten when Bex reads a personal article published under Rowan’s byline that exposes his most private traumas. Believing she betrayed him, he reacts with coldness and hurt, cutting her off and returning to his old patterns of isolation.
Rowan, reeling from the professional and emotional consequences, is fired and left to deal with her pregnancy alone. However, a conversation with Bex’s brother reveals that the article may not have been written by her at all—her notes were stolen by her former boss.
Armed with this new information, Bex begins to question his assumptions and regrets how he handled things. Meanwhile, Rowan’s support system encourages her to tell Bex about the pregnancy.
She finally does, and he responds with a mix of remorse, joy, and renewed devotion. He assures her the baby is his and that he wants a future with her, one built on trust rather than doubt.
As the team heads into the Stanley Cup finals, Bex is more focused than ever—both professionally and personally. They win the championship, a culmination of his dedication and the players’ grit.
In the celebration that follows, Bex makes their relationship public, claiming Rowan and their unborn child in front of the crowd and her doubting ex. It’s a declaration of love and loyalty stronger than words alone.
The story closes with sweeping change. Rowan considers a job with Bex’s brother’s magazine in Liverpool, hinting at a fresh start abroad.
The team’s GM, Sam, announces his retirement, and Penelope is named his successor, signifying progress and new leadership. Bex stands by her side, ready for the next chapter.
In the epilogue, five months later, Bex holds their newborn daughter, Keira. It’s a moment of quiet awe and unconditional love.
He proposes to Rowan, not with grand gestures but with simple certainty. She accepts, and they begin life as a family.
For Bex, home is no longer a rink or a city—it’s Rowan and their child, the life he never expected but now cannot imagine being without.
Wrong Score ends not just with romance fulfilled, but with the promise of healing, growth, and a shared future built on trust, resilience, and love.
Characters
Bexley “Bex” Townsend
Bex Townsend is the emotionally complex and internally fractured head coach of the Seattle Hawkeyes, a man whose entire existence revolves around order, control, and a deep-seated fear of vulnerability. Once a hockey star with immense promise, his career was tragically cut short due to injury—a blow that not only ended his time on the ice but carved a chasm in his identity.
Now, as head coach, Bex finds himself constantly managing expectations and navigating emotional landmines, particularly when it comes to players like Reeve Aisa, whose injury and struggle mirror his own fall from grace. His interactions with Reeve are tinged with personal guilt and protective instinct, though Bex hides this under a veneer of detached professionalism.
This ongoing tension underscores his constant battle between compassion and the ruthless objectivity required in professional sports.
Bex’s dynamic with Rowan Summers forms the emotional core of Wrong Score. From the outset, he is unsettled by her presence—frustrated by her journalistic persistence and haunted by an old article that portrayed him as cold and socially inept.
Yet this irritation masks a growing fascination. Her laughter, her presence at games, even her clothing command his attention in ways he refuses to acknowledge openly.
Bex’s internal conflict—his attraction to Rowan, his distrust of journalists, and his fear of emotional exposure—creates a character who is equal parts magnetic and frustrating. Over the course of the novel, his stoicism begins to crumble, especially as he witnesses Rowan’s integrity, compassion, and resilience.
His slow unraveling reveals a man who yearns for connection but struggles to accept that his worth isn’t solely tied to control and performance. Ultimately, Bex’s arc is one of healing and emotional bravery, culminating in his acceptance of love, family, and a future far more profound than any Stanley Cup victory.
Rowan Summers
Rowan Summers is an intelligent, emotionally layered, and quietly defiant sports journalist who challenges both the professional and emotional norms of the male-dominated world she inhabits. Her journey in Wrong Score is driven by a fierce determination to redefine herself after the trauma of infertility and the subsequent end of a meaningful relationship.
Once a woman drawn to the arts and literature, Rowan has pivoted to sports journalism not merely for the thrill of the job, but because it’s where she believes she can make a tangible impact. This drive, however, often conflicts with her tender, introspective side—one that longs for authenticity, connection, and healing.
Her relationship with Bex begins with friction, intensified by his cold demeanor and a shared history of professional animosity. Yet her persistence, vulnerability, and empathy gradually pierce through his defensive shell.
What sets Rowan apart is her moral compass. Though she has the opportunity to exploit scandal for professional gain, she consistently chooses discretion and protection—whether it’s shielding Keely’s painful family secrets or refusing to exploit Bex’s personal history despite career pressure.
She becomes a bridge between the public persona of the Hawkeyes and the private emotional undercurrents within the team, earning both their trust and admiration. Her emotional evolution mirrors Bex’s—she begins as someone cautious and defensive, but gradually allows herself to dream again, especially when she discovers she is pregnant after years of believing it impossible.
Rowan’s eventual reconciliation with Bex and her embrace of motherhood do not dilute her independence; rather, they symbolize a reclamation of selfhood, where she allows herself to be both vulnerable and powerful, both a chronicler and a central character in her own narrative.
Reeve Aisa
Reeve Aisa serves as a reflection of Bex’s internal wounds and the emotional heart of the Hawkeyes’ locker room. A talented goalie with a promising career, Reeve’s trajectory is violently interrupted by a hit-and-run accident that leaves him physically and emotionally scarred.
His struggle to reclaim his position, and more importantly, his confidence, is a subplot steeped in quiet pain and silent resilience. Though Reeve does not occupy the narrative spotlight for long stretches, his story reverberates through the main characters—especially Bex, who takes a deeply personal interest in Reeve’s recovery.
Bex sees his younger self in Reeve and often projects his own unhealed trauma onto the goalie, leading to moments of overprotectiveness and tension.
Reeve’s emotional arc is not just about healing from physical injury but about finding strength amid emotional isolation. As more is revealed about the connection between his performance issues and the resurfacing of Keely’s father’s criminal history, Reeve emerges as a young man shouldering burdens that extend far beyond the ice rink.
His silent suffering, coupled with his quiet determination, render him a poignant figure whose presence serves as a catalyst for others’ growth, particularly Bex and Keely. Reeve is not just a background character; he is a symbol of the fragility of strength and the courage it takes to keep showing up when everything inside you screams retreat.
Keely
Keely functions as both a friend and emotional anchor in Rowan’s world. Her storyline, though secondary, carries substantial thematic weight.
Her internal conflict about coming forward with her father’s criminal past showcases a moral struggle that mirrors Rowan’s own dilemmas. Keely is a character driven by fear, integrity, and the desire to protect others—qualities that bind her closely to Rowan and elevate her role in the narrative.
Her brave decision to disclose her father’s history triggers a pivotal turning point for the team and underscores the novel’s recurring theme: the cost of truth and the courage it takes to face it. Keely’s vulnerability also humanizes the team dynamics, creating a space where professional performance intersects with personal integrity.
Through her, we see the emotional ripple effects of familial trauma and the redemptive power of honesty and support within chosen communities.
Charles
Charles, Rowan’s manipulative boss, stands as the embodiment of professional toxicity. He represents the darker side of ambition, where journalistic ethics are sacrificed for sensationalism and control.
Throughout Wrong Score, Charles pressures Rowan to prioritize career over conscience, culminating in a devastating breach of trust when her notes are stolen and published under her name. He is less a nuanced character and more a symbol of systemic exploitation, serving to highlight Rowan’s strength in resisting and eventually escaping his control.
His role is critical in catalyzing Rowan’s final transformation—from a woman struggling under the weight of patriarchal authority to one who seizes control of her narrative, both personally and professionally.
Jordan
Jordan, Rowan’s sister, offers emotional grounding and familial perspective throughout the novel. As a supportive sibling, Jordan listens without judgment, challenges Rowan when needed, and provides practical wisdom—especially during Rowan’s pregnancy and career dilemmas.
She acts as a safe harbor for Rowan, a person who understands the scars of infertility and the risks of emotional investment. Jordan is crucial in illuminating Rowan’s emotional depth and helping her reach decisions grounded not just in survival, but in hope and self-respect.
Her presence is a gentle reminder that familial love, especially between sisters, can be a stabilizing force amidst the chaos of heartbreak and professional pressure.
Leo
Leo, Bex’s brother, appears late in the novel but plays an instrumental role in the story’s resolution. His revelation that Charles likely stole and published Rowan’s notes reorients Bex’s understanding of the entire betrayal.
More than just a plot device, Leo represents a bridge between Bex’s isolated past and a more open, interconnected future. His magazine offer to Rowan suggests not just a career pivot but an opportunity for a shared life across continents.
Through Leo, Bex gains clarity, closure, and a renewed belief in redemption. Leo is, in many ways, the quiet architect of the final act of healing.
Baby Keira
Though only introduced in the epilogue, Keira represents the culmination of Bex and Rowan’s emotional journeys. Her birth is symbolic of hope, renewal, and the unexpected blessings that emerge when love and vulnerability are embraced.
In naming their daughter Keira, Bex and Rowan do more than begin a family—they solidify their transformation from two emotionally guarded individuals into partners committed to growth, truth, and each other. Keira becomes the emblem of the life they never thought they could have, and her presence cements the novel’s ultimate message: healing is possible, love is worth the risk, and the future is shaped not by what breaks us, but by how we rebuild.
Themes
Emotional Guardedness and the Fear of Vulnerability
In Wrong Score, emotional guardedness emerges as a significant barrier for both Bex and Rowan. Bex Townsend, shaped by a traumatic personal history that includes his father’s death, a failed marriage, and the abrupt end to his hockey career, has constructed a life rooted in control and emotional suppression.
He treats vulnerability as a weakness, particularly in high-pressure environments where leadership and masculinity are often conflated with stoicism. This fear of emotional exposure pushes him into rigid routines and guarded interpersonal interactions.
His initial hostility toward Rowan is not purely professional—it is also a defense mechanism, a way to prevent her from disrupting the carefully calibrated emotional distance he maintains from the world. As Rowan slowly chips away at his emotional armor, Bex begins to exhibit conflicting behaviors: possessiveness, jealousy, softness, and protectiveness, none of which align with the persona he’s tried so hard to uphold.
Rowan, too, navigates her own emotional defensiveness. Her past—marked by infertility and the dissolution of a serious relationship—has left her cautious, especially in the presence of male power figures.
Her drive for professional success in a male-dominated field is intertwined with a deep fear of being emotionally exploited. Although she is candid and perceptive, she withholds her vulnerability until circumstances force her to confront it.
Her reluctance to share her past, her feelings for Bex, and later, her pregnancy, all stem from the emotional self-protection she has honed over the years. As their relationship evolves, both are compelled to confront these defenses.
The near-kisses, angry confrontations, misinterpretations, and eventual confessions all expose how vulnerability is both feared and desperately needed by these characters. Their eventual reconciliation is not just romantic but symbolic of their growth—they learn that strength does not lie in emotional distance, but in the courage to let each other in.
Power, Miscommunication, and the Fragility of Trust
The balance of power between Bex and Rowan—one a head coach, the other a journalist—creates an atmosphere where trust is difficult to build and easy to break. Miscommunication is a recurring force that shapes and threatens their relationship.
Bex misinterprets Rowan’s phone call with her boss as betrayal, assuming she’s digging for a scandal about Reeve. Instead of asking for clarity, he acts on suspicion, which leads to a sexually charged yet emotionally wounding encounter that leaves Rowan feeling used.
This moment encapsulates the precarious nature of trust in relationships where power is unequal and communication is flawed. Rowan, despite her journalistic integrity, withholds her struggles with Charles, unsure whether Bex can be a safe confidante.
Meanwhile, Bex’s inability to separate professional caution from personal emotion results in emotional volatility, further complicating their fragile connection.
When Bex later learns that Rowan didn’t write the damning article and that her notes were stolen, he is forced to acknowledge how easily he let his past inform his present. His assumption echoes a broader theme—the idea that broken trust doesn’t always stem from betrayal but from the fear of it.
Rowan’s decision to be transparent about her pregnancy and her role in the article’s fallout contrasts with Bex’s earlier reactivity, illustrating a turning point. This shift—moving from emotional impulsiveness to intentional, open dialogue—becomes the foundation of their reconciliation.
The novel underscores how relationships strained by power imbalance require not just communication but also the willingness to unlearn fear-based assumptions and replace them with empathy.
The Intersection of Professional Ambition and Emotional Entanglement
Rowan’s ambition is central to her identity. She is a sports journalist trying to earn credibility in a field that often sidelines women, and her assignment on the Hawkeyes is both a career milestone and a personal minefield.
Her professional goals are repeatedly compromised by her emotional involvement with Bex. The conflict between journalistic objectivity and personal connection creates a tension that threatens to unravel both her career and her heart.
Her fear that any perceived favoritism or bias will taint her reputation is compounded by the manipulations of her editor Charles, who uses her proximity to Bex to advance his own agenda. This emotional entanglement—initially rooted in professional tension—escalates into something far more complex, where boundaries blur and stakes heighten.
Bex, similarly, faces the challenge of reconciling his role as coach with his feelings for Rowan. His team’s performance, especially that of Reeve, depends on focus and discipline, but Rowan’s presence unmoors him.
The conflict between what he feels and what he believes is appropriate as a leader highlights the cost of emotional suppression in professional environments. Their interactions—fraught with power dynamics, sexual tension, and competing agendas—reveal the difficulty of navigating genuine connection in a world governed by scrutiny and expectation.
The eventual realization that both their professional ambitions can coexist with emotional honesty marks a significant thematic resolution. Their growth is not marked by sacrificing one for the other but by learning how to honor both—the career and the connection, the ambition and the affection.
Redemption Through Love and Chosen Family
The arc of Wrong Score culminates in a narrative of redemption not through achievement or external validation but through love, reconciliation, and chosen family. Bex, who begins as a man haunted by loss and failure, finds his purpose redefined not by coaching victories but by emotional openness.
His transformation is most evident in his evolving relationship with Rowan, where he shifts from reactive mistrust to proactive love. The moment he accepts fatherhood, expresses joy at Rowan’s pregnancy, and proposes in the hospital after their daughter’s birth reflects his deep internal shift.
He moves from isolation to connection, from control to surrender, and from guarded masculinity to nurturing vulnerability.
Rowan’s redemption is more internal. Cast out of a job, heartbroken, and struggling to reconcile her infertility diagnosis with unexpected pregnancy, she finds peace not in professional acclaim but in being seen and loved fully by Bex.
The sense of chosen family is vital—not just in her new nuclear family but in the support she receives from her sister, her friends, and even members of the team. The warmth of these secondary relationships counterbalances the professional betrayals she endures, reinforcing that family is not just biological or institutional—it is made of people who choose to stay.
This theme gains even greater weight in the epilogue, where Bex’s reflection that his home is not a city or team but Rowan and their daughter encapsulates the emotional climax of the story. Their love is not a reward but a renewal—a second chance to build something enduring out of pain, trust, and hope.
This final arc affirms that while ambition may drive the characters forward, love and chosen family are what ultimately ground and transform them.