Wrong Score by Kenna King Summary, Characters and Themes
Wrong Score by Kenna King is a hockey romance set against the high-stakes backdrop of the NHL. It blends personal vulnerability with career ambition.
At its core is the slow-burning, enemies-to-lovers relationship between Rowan Summers, a resilient sports journalist, and Bexley “Bex” Townsend, the no-nonsense coach of the Seattle Hawkeyes. Their connection sparks through confrontation, then simmers through guarded admiration and hesitant trust.
This novel isn’t just about passion on the ice. It’s a story about healing from the past, choosing emotional risk over comfort, and confronting the balance between ambition and intimacy.
Summary
The story begins on the ice, with Coach Bex Townsend showing his tough-love leadership style during a tense Hawkeyes practice session. He’s immediately irritated by Rowan Summers, the persistent sports journalist assigned to cover the team for an entire season.
Rowan, unfazed by his gruff demeanor, pushes back with wit and sharp commentary. Their early interactions are laced with hostility and skepticism — he doesn’t trust reporters, and she’s determined to do her job without catering to anyone’s ego.
Rowan’s editor pressures her to get exclusive insights into Bex, which only adds fuel to their ongoing confrontations. Bex is appalled at her presence on away trips and tries to shut her out, but the team’s management insists she has full access.
Despite the antagonism, there’s an unspoken curiosity between them that neither can completely ignore. Off the ice, Rowan bonds with the team’s wives and girlfriends, building trust and gaining access to off-record moments — like Keely’s concerns about her estranged, ex-con father.
Rowan’s decision not to report on this builds her credibility among the team’s inner circle. But it also places her at odds with Bex, who assumes she’s always looking for drama.
Their arguments, though often heated, slowly begin to crack open their emotional armor. Throughout their travels, sparks fly — quite literally on a turbulent flight that forces a moment of physical closeness between them.
After a near-kiss, both are shaken by how intensely they feel something more than disdain. Rowan returns home and reflects on her past — an ex-husband who left after her infertility diagnosis and a career that often feels like her only stability.
Bex, meanwhile, broods over his failed marriage. He realizes how deeply he’s buried his emotions beneath professional intensity.
As the season intensifies, so does their relationship. Their dynamic becomes harder to ignore: jealous glances, lingering looks, and small acts of kindness — like Bex secretly paying for a stranger’s meal — reveal hidden depths.
Rowan begins to see him not just as a hard-nosed coach but as someone who’s been emotionally wounded and now hides behind structure and control. Moments of almost-intimacy accumulate — a shared ride home, late-night conversations about childhood and family trauma, and raw confessions about their personal struggles.
Rowan opens up about her infertility and how it shapes her fear of connection. Bex responds not with pity but respect, earning more of her trust.
Meanwhile, Bex invites her to a family dinner, showing his parents a version of himself even his team doesn’t see. Their emotional and physical tension culminates in a long-awaited first kiss that is both passionate and overwhelming.
However, real-life complications follow. Bex backs off again, citing professionalism and the risks to his coaching position.
A leaked photo of the two raises suspicions and damages their fragile trust. Rowan insists she wasn’t behind the leak, and her loyalty is affirmed by the team’s wives.
The Hawkeyes, battling losses and pressure, begin to falter. Rowan pens a raw, unfiltered article titled “Wrong Score” that critiques Bex’s recent performance.
It’s a professional risk that leads to a brutal confrontation. But the conversation exposes both of their emotional breaking points.
Their journey to understanding and forgiveness takes precedence over traditional romantic tropes. Through a hard-earned mutual apology, they acknowledge the ways they’ve hurt each other — intentionally and otherwise.
They begin to rebuild not just a relationship, but a shared vision for what love and ambition can look like when they stop being afraid of it.
The final chapters and epilogue provide resolution, but this summary closes before the climactic choice is made. Whether these two emotionally bruised individuals will choose each other fully, or let their fears dictate the final score, remains the central question.
Characters
Rowan Summers
Rowan Summers stands at the heart of Wrong Score as a resilient, introspective sports journalist navigating both her professional ambition and deep-seated personal wounds. Her journey begins in a defensive stance — determined to earn respect in the male-dominated sports world, yet guarded due to past betrayals.
Her infertility and the collapse of her marriage after her ex-husband left her add a profound emotional complexity to her character. Rowan’s initial brashness and sarcastic edge act as a self-protective shield.
As she embeds herself within the Seattle Hawkeyes, her vulnerability surfaces in powerful, organic ways. Her integrity is consistently tested, especially when faced with stories that could advance her career at the cost of hurting those around her — and she repeatedly chooses empathy over ambition.
The evolution of her relationship with Coach Bex Townsend parallels her internal arc. Their dynamic shifts from conflict and distance to understanding and closeness.
Rowan’s capacity for emotional truth and trust deepens as she allows herself to hope again — not only in love but in the idea of finding her place in a community that once felt closed off to her. By the epilogue, Rowan emerges as a woman who has reclaimed her narrative, professionally and personally.
She now writes from a place of earned intimacy and strength.
Bexley “Bex” Townsend
Coach Bex Townsend begins the story as a closed-off, short-tempered NHL coach whose life revolves around discipline, control, and the ice rink. He is portrayed as gruff and stoic — a man who speaks through actions rather than words.
He keeps his emotions buried under layers of past pain. A recent divorce has left him wary of vulnerability, and his dedication to hockey has become both his refuge and his prison.
Yet beneath Bex’s cold exterior lies a deeply principled, quietly compassionate man struggling with fear — fear of losing control, of getting hurt, and of being unable to protect the people he cares about. His dynamic with Rowan exposes the raw parts of him he has long kept hidden.
Her presence forces him to confront emotions he would rather ignore. Their push-and-pull relationship becomes a crucible for his growth.
As Bex allows himself to trust again, his tenderness, protectiveness, and capacity for love come into focus. His decision to prioritize Rowan over hockey by the end of the novel is a profound gesture that signifies his complete transformation.
He sheds his defensive armor and embraces the possibility of a shared future. He becomes a whole, emotionally available man.
Keely
Keely, one of the wives and girlfriends (WAGs) of the team, serves as a grounding force and a quiet emotional anchor within the story. Her friendship with Rowan is one of the earliest signs that the Hawkeyes community is capable of warmth and trust.
Keely’s backstory, especially the situation involving her incarcerated father, offers a nuanced exploration of shame, loyalty, and the weight of private struggles. She asks Rowan to keep the story about her father out of the press — a request that tests Rowan’s ethical boundaries.
Rowan’s ultimate decision to protect Keely’s privacy reveals how much the team’s culture has influenced her. Keely’s courage in confiding her vulnerabilities and her strength in holding her family together offer a contrast to the chaos surrounding the more public figures in the story.
She is not only a moral compass for Rowan, but also a symbol of the kind of support and emotional intimacy that exists outside romantic entanglements. Her arc reinforces the theme of found family and the quiet resilience of women who are often overlooked.
Reeve Aisa
Reeve, the team’s goalie, begins as a foil for Bex’s temper but gradually becomes a more fleshed-out character. He deals with his own pressures and psychological burdens.
He is portrayed as young and immensely talented but struggling with the mental toll of high-stakes sports and the instability of his future with the team. His emotional fragility becomes a subplot that mirrors the overarching theme of internal struggle among men who are conditioned to suppress emotion.
Reeve’s connection to Keely and his reaction to her family issues provide further depth to his character. The rumors about his contract and mental state add to his complexity.
Though not a primary focus, Reeve helps highlight how performance and identity are often painfully entangled in professional sports. His growth — from a defensive player trying to prove himself into someone who finds steadier footing — mirrors the emotional evolution taking place across the team.
Jordan (Rowan’s Sister)
Jordan, Rowan’s sister, plays a more peripheral but emotionally significant role. She acts as a voice of reason and humor in Rowan’s life.
Her casual teasing and emotional support provide Rowan with the kind of stability and safe space that Rowan lacks elsewhere. She functions almost as an emotional mirror, reflecting truths Rowan isn’t always ready to admit.
Especially when it comes to Rowan’s growing attachment to Bex, Jordan’s perspective is grounding. Their sisterly bond adds depth to Rowan’s characterization.
It shows her softer, more unguarded side. Jordan also anchors the story in domestic realism.
She reminds the reader that the stakes of love and heartbreak extend far beyond the rink or newsroom.
Sam
Sam, the general manager of the Hawkeyes, represents the bureaucratic and political complexities of professional sports. His interactions with both Bex and Rowan embody the tension between PR, team cohesion, and journalistic freedom.
While not deeply explored emotionally, Sam serves as a structural antagonist who pushes the leads to make difficult choices. These choices often pit values and loyalty against professional ambition.
The team’s media manager and other staff add to this pressure. They shape the world Rowan must navigate as both an outsider and eventual insider.
Sam’s role emphasizes the institutional challenges embedded in the story’s broader conflicts. Through him, the narrative grounds its emotional arcs in the realities of professional sports politics.
Themes
Emotional Healing Through Vulnerability
A core theme in Wrong Score is the emotional healing that becomes possible when individuals allow themselves to be truly seen. Both Rowan and Bex enter the story as emotionally guarded individuals — Rowan, a journalist recovering from infertility and divorce, and Bex, a hockey coach emotionally bruised by his failed marriage and professional isolation.
Their confrontational dynamic initially acts as a protective shield for their insecurities. However, the novel steadily peels back these layers.
The turning point begins when Rowan chooses not to exploit Keely’s family secret for professional gain. This marks a moral choice that hints at her readiness to prioritize human connection over ambition.
For Bex, healing accelerates when he starts opening up about his past. He shares moments of emotional transparency, such as confessing about his estranged brother or his feelings of guilt over his marriage.
These emotional disclosures bring them closer. They also signal internal transformations.
By the epilogue, both characters are visibly changed. Rowan is no longer running from vulnerability, and Bex has relinquished his hardened defenses.
Their love becomes a testament to how emotional healing is often found not in isolation, but in mutual recognition and care.
The Conflict Between Career Ambition and Personal Fulfillment
The book explores how the drive for professional success can hinder personal growth. This is especially true when ambition becomes a way of avoiding deeper emotional truths.
Rowan’s career in journalism is not just a vocation. It is also a coping mechanism — a way to fill the void left by her failed attempts at motherhood and a broken marriage.
Her editor’s constant push for exclusives often places her in moral dilemmas. She must balance professional obligations with her growing personal attachment to the team.
For Bex, hockey is not only a career but a fortress he hides behind. Coaching allows him to avoid confronting emotional loss.
His reluctance to engage with Rowan is as much about maintaining professionalism as it is about preserving emotional detachment. The tension escalates with public scandals, ethical dilemmas, and blurred workplace boundaries.
These pressures create friction. But they also force both characters to reevaluate what they truly want.
By the conclusion, the resolution of this tension is not in choosing one over the other. It is in redefining ambition.
Rowan’s decision to write a book instead of churning out stories, and Bex’s step back from full-time coaching, both suggest that personal fulfillment must sometimes come at the cost of reshaping career trajectories.
Trust as a Fragile but Foundational Element in Relationships
Trust is not just a romantic requisite in Wrong Score. It is a constantly tested pillar around which the plot is constructed.
From the beginning, mistrust defines Rowan and Bex’s relationship. Bex suspects Rowan of manipulating players for stories, while Rowan sees Bex as a gatekeeper trying to sabotage her career.
This mutual suspicion makes their slow shift into trust particularly impactful. Critical moments — such as Rowan refusing to break Keely’s confidence or Bex defending her to team management — function as trust-building milestones.
But the theme goes further. It illustrates how easily trust can fracture under pressure.
The leaked locker room photo and the fallout from Rowan’s harsh article are reminders that even earned trust can be shattered in seconds. The recovery from these breaks is never simple or immediate.
This makes their final reconciliation believable and earned. Their relationship becomes a study in how trust is not a one-time gift but an ongoing process of choice, apology, and vulnerability.
Found Family and Community Support
Despite the romantic focus, Wrong Score emphasizes the significance of chosen families and supportive communities. The Seattle Hawkeyes and their associated circle — especially characters like Keely, Autumn, and Brent — form a network of emotional support for both Rowan and Bex.
This chosen family dynamic is particularly important for Rowan. She has distanced herself from personal attachments since her divorce.
Her integration into the team’s social circle signals her emotional thawing. This culminates in her loyalty during moments of crisis.
Bex’s family also plays a pivotal role in showing sides of him that are otherwise hidden. The dinner Rowan attends opens up a contrast between the public figure of Bex the coach and the private man shaped by familial bonds.
These interactions create layers of emotional intimacy that support the romantic arc. They prevent the story from being reduced to a couple-focused narrative.
The found family theme reinforces the idea that healing and happiness often require more than one supportive relationship. They need a community.
Redemption and Emotional Maturity
The theme of redemption is handled subtly but effectively through both protagonists’ character arcs. Rowan is not looking for forgiveness from others as much as she’s trying to forgive herself.
She must make peace with her past relationship failures, with not fitting into conventional molds of womanhood, and with chasing a career at the cost of emotional closeness. Bex, on the other hand, seeks redemption in a more outward-facing way.
He wants to prove he’s more than just a tough coach with a failed marriage. His decision to open himself to Rowan, and later step back from his career to support her, signifies a profound shift in emotional maturity.
Redemption here is not dramatic or performative. It is quiet, steady, and rooted in real change.
The final scenes, especially the epilogue, make this theme clear. The fact that Bex is willing to support Rowan’s book and even edit it with her is a powerful metaphor for co-authorship.
Not just of a text, but of a life together shaped by understanding and growth.