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

MY HEART BEATS in my ears as my mom and I stare at each other.

“Rory,” she breathes, eyes roaming my face like she can’t believe it.

She looks older. There are a few more lines around her eyes, and her face is thinner, but her hair is the same. Long and a little curly. And her irises are the same dark blue as mine.

My heart aches.

“I’m Hazel,” Hazel says behind me, peering over my shoulder.

My mom’s gaze lifts and she blinks, like she just noticed the woman clinging to my back. She smiles a little as I set Hazel on her feet again. “Nicole.”

They shake hands, and something in my brain trips. Hazel wraps an arm around my waist, holding me tight. My mom notices, and something softens in her gaze.

“Lovely to meet you, Hazel,” she says. Her eyes drop to Hazel’s foot, hovering off the ground as she balances on one leg. “What happened there?”

“Rory bodychecked me.”

I choke, and Hazel grins up at me with teasing in her eyes.

“I didn’t bodycheck her,” I add, glancing at my mom. “We were at a skating thing for the team and she fell. She sprained her ankle.” I send Hazel a hard look, but she just smiles more. “I’m trying to take care of her, but she won’t sit still and rest like she’s supposed to.”

Hazel rolls her eyes. “Rory, it’s snowing. You can’t expect me to stay inside when it snows, like, twice a year here.”

She’s joking, but there’s a protective edge to her gaze. She’s trying to make us comfortable by joking around, I realize.

If it’s possible, I love her a little more.

My mom watches on, wearing a funny expression like she’s amused and surprised, but heartbroken. “I agree. Snow means you have to go outside.” The side of her mouth lifts. “You used to love going outside in the snow,” she says quietly. “You would make a snowman every year.”

Pain racks through me, and I swallow past the rock in my throat. She gave that all up when she left, and I’ve squashed any hope of a relationship.

I want to ask her a million questions about her life. I want to tell her all about Hazel and hockey and how I think everything may have gotten fucked up with us because of me, but the words lodge in my vocal cords, and I turn to Hazel.

“We should get home.”

My mom blinks, standing taller. “I’m having a Christmas party.” There’s a rushed, frantic edge to her words, like she doesn’t want it to end like this, either. “Tomorrow afternoon. Just a casual gathering, a few friends. You don’t have to bring anything, just yourselves.” Her demeanor dims, like she’s bracing herself for me to say no, before she takes a deep breath. “I’d love for you to be there,” she tells me before her gaze swings to Hazel, brightening. “You too, Hazel, I’d love for you both to be there.” Our eyes meet. “If you want.”

Hazel watches me with concern and fire in her eyes, like she’s ready to strike if I need her.

Want to? she asks with her eyes.

I shouldn’t, because I’ve done enough damage with the relationship between me and my mom, but there’s that ache again in my chest.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be this way. Maybe I can show her I’m not my dad.

When I give Hazel a barely perceptible nod, she lights up.

“We’d love to come,” she tells my mom.

Her face relaxes with visible relief, and she lists off the time and address.

I nod. “I remember.”

“Of course.” She shakes her head to herself. “Of course you do.” She takes another deep breath, looking me over again. She looks like she wants to say more. “Well—”

Without thinking, I rush forward and give her a hug. She’s stiff for a moment before she relaxes, clutching me hard, and her painfully familiar scent makes my chest hurt. I pull back before I do something stupid, like tell her I miss her.

“See you then.”

“See you then,” she whispers as I lean down for Hazel to climb onto my back.

I carry Hazel away, heart pounding, and just before we turn the corner, I look over my shoulder to see her standing there, watching us.