Page 50 of The Fake Out

I shook my head. “Ah…she does not give a fuck about hockey.”

He laughed. “Honest! I like her already.”

I laughed. “Yeah, me too.”

“It’s nice to have the support, though, you know? Sometimes it helps us knowing they’re cheering us on and that if it goes to shit, they’ll pick up the pieces.”

I nodded.

I assumed it was nice, but I never knew. I could count on my hand the number of times Astrid came to support me. I didn’t think it was fair to ask Veronica to always cheer me on when Astrid never did.

Coach dismissed me, and I headed home for my pre-game nap. I was thankful Dad wasn’t home. We’d barely said two words to each other since I stormed out of his bar. I shouldn’t have moved home. I should have found my own place, but there was a small part of me that worried about the old man. He’d been a distant shell of a person since Mom died, and Michael was worried about him being lonely now that we were almost all out of the house.

That was probably why sleep didn’t come. My brain replayed how I acted like a child. I still had all this animosity toward Dad for shutting down when we were kids and forcing us to fend for ourselves. The worst part? He was right. I was exactly like him, and I hated that.

I stared into the dark of my bedroom and noticed there was a pair of women’s underwear on my floor. I got out of bed and threw it in my hamper. Veronica hadn’t done that on purpose, she had been in a rush when she left the house that morning, but it didn’t stop my horny brain from thinking about all the fun we had gotten up to. Or how the last time I saw her, she let me take her as hard and rough as I wanted, letting me take my frustrations with my dad out on her body.

That was the best thing about this casual arrangement with her. She didn’t ask for anything. I didn’t have to get attached to her. We’d fuck our way through the month, and then after her douchebag ex’s wedding, we’d go our separate ways. I didn’t need her to come to my games.

So why was my hand hovering over the text message thread with her, trying to see if I should even bother?

ME: Will you come to the game tonight?

VERONICA: You need your fake girlfriend to make an appearance?

ME: Something like that.

VERONICA: Sure.

I re-taped my stick for the fifth time and bounced my knee in anticipation. Riley put his hand on my leg. “Dude, stop obsessively stick-taping. That’s my thing,” he joked.

The big blonde man looked like he could be another one of my brothers, only he was tanned, and I was so pale, I was translucent. I ran my hand through my hair and put my helmet on. I didn’t know why I was nervous tonight. Maybe because Veronica was coming to another game. Or because Riley and I were paired again, and I was worried about my performance on the ice.

Girard, our captain, was doing a pep talk and getting us amped to go out for warm-ups. He was an excellent captain, a little serious, but a good leader. He reminded me of my oldest brother, Eli, which was funny because we were playing Montreal tonight.

No wonder I was nervous.

“Fuck,” I swore.

“What?” Riley asked.

Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

I shook my head and got up to walk down the tunnel. TJ stood at the front, chanting everyone’s nicknames to pump us up.

“Holmsy!” he cheered, and I couldn’t help the smile from sliding across my face. TJ might laugh at his own jokes, and sometimes he was a little loud, but he was fun to play with.

I headed out onto the ice, taking my first lap around the freshly zambonied surface. I stopped in front of the glass where the girls usually sat. Veronica was sitting beside Dinah, her hair in a ponytail, the fire-engine red ends peeking out behind her.

The thing that stopped me on my skates and made me stare at her? She was wearing my jersey. My fake girlfriend came to my game when I asked, and she was wearing my jersey. My ex-girlfriend of ten years never did that. Ever. I had to tamp down my heart beating loud in my chest as I stared at her.

She must have felt my gaze because she turned away from Dinah, and we locked eyes. Her smile seemed genuine, and then she tapped her fingers against her heart and pointed to me. I wanted to laugh at that. I repeated the gesture back to her. I don’t know why I did that when she came to my first game. Before I could process my feelings and why that gesture made me feel warmth across my chest, a big body checked me into the boards.

Eli.

“Hey!” I yelled, and he nudged me with his shoulder. Big brothers were the worst.

“That your girl?” he asked and pointed to V.