The Fake Out: a fake dating hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 2)

CHRISTMAS CAROLS PLAY in the grocery store while I load things into my overflowing cart.

Keep Hazel warm, keep Hazel fed, keep Hazel happy. I’m in protector mode, and I love it. Taking care of her feels right and natural.

I normally spend the Christmas break in the gym or taking advantage of the empty rink schedule, but the idea of curling up on the couch with Hazel tonight blows all of that up. I used to hate my apartment, actively avoiding the empty, lonely penthouse overlooking the city, but with her there?

I can’t wait to get home.

I’m loading the groceries into my car, snow falling around me, when my phone buzzes with a call. I’m expecting something regarding the dinner I’ve ordered for us from a local restaurant, but my stomach tightens when I see the name flashing across the screen.

Dad.

Already, the weight settles in my gut. We haven’t talked in a couple weeks, and I forgot this feeling that floods my system when we do.

“Rory,” he says when I answer. “I’ve been reviewing your recent games.”

My eyes close. All we fucking talk about is hockey.

“I’m coming to a practice,” he says. “I need to see what Ward is putting in your head.”

“No.” Anxiety shoots up my throat. “He runs closed practices. He doesn’t like spectators. He says it’s distracting.”

I don’t know if that’s true, but I’ve never seen someone outside of the organization watching our practices, and I sure as fuck don’t want my dad there taking notes.

He sighs. “Well, I’m coming to the League Classic next week, then.”

I’m looking forward to the game on New Year’s Eve. I booked a super nice suite, because yes, even now, I’m shamelessly trying to impress Hazel. The game is our deadline for this agreement to get back at McKinnon, but it’s gone so much further than that.

She has feelings for me. I know she does. The League Classic weekend will be special, so I don’t want my dad there, telling me all the reasons I’m not good enough.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I tell him, rubbing the back of my neck.

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. “What’s going on with you lately?”

Hazel. Hazel’s what’s going on with me. She’s become my entire life, but my dad would never understand that.

“You’re different this season,” he adds, a note of frustration in his voice. “You’re playing differently, you’re acting differently… I don’t know who you are anymore. Where’s the star, Rory?”

He’s long gone, and I’m happy to see him go. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“It’s that girl.”

“Hazel.” That protective feeling rises through me. “Her name is Hazel.”

“You’re distracted.”

“I’m not distracted, Dad.” Am I distracted if I feel like everything I’ve ever wanted is shifting into place? This conversation isn’t going anywhere. “I need to go.”

“Big plans tonight, huh.”

There’s something in his voice that makes me frown. Resentment, or loneliness or something. “Yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”

We say our terse goodbyes and I finish loading the groceries into the car. My mind wanders to the girl waiting at home for me, and the anxiety fades.

My dad’s right—I am different, and it’s because of her. With Hazel by my side, I’m nothing like him. Maybe I never was, and she showed me that.

Footsteps crunch in the snow, and two women walk past, carrying a Christmas tree.

“Merry Christmas,” one of them says with a big smile.

I nod back, staring at the tree. “Merry Christmas.”

On the other end of the parking lot, snow falls on the remaining Christmas trees, and I smile.

Hazel’s missing Christmas with her family, so I’m going to make this one memorable.