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I know that whatever Alison is laughing at has nothing to do with him, but my gaze searches for and finds Alex in less than a second. My heartbeat accelerates as I watch him glide effortlessly across the ice, his stick guiding the puck with precision and grace. With swift, controlled stickhandling, he maneuvers it through a series of intricate decoys andchanges in direction, showcasing the kind of stickwork that has become his signature move.
After five seconds, I close my eyes again.
Past me would pummel this version of me to death if we met. Not that I would blame her.
Four months ago, I’d had my life planned out. Hold out for two more years, gather all of my savings, and head west to start a new life. It’s a plan I’d been working on for two years, and I didn’t mind being mute for a bit longer if it meant that I was finally going to live life on my terms a couple of years from now.
My dad had taken the first stab at that plan when he set about manipulating the Furmans to consider me as viable wife material. But I couldn’t exactly blame him. I couldn’t even blame Alex for suggesting the fake girlfriend idea.
I’m the one at fault. And not because I fake-dated Alex and used him to push my father away. Not even because I’d kissed him in public. Not even because I’d had sex with him . . . twice. Six months ago, I’d have been horrified at the thought that I’d caved and let Alex have me.
But all of that pales in comparison to the worst thing I’d done.
I’d let myself fall in love.
Hot tears sting my eyes, and I hastily brush them away before any of the other masseuses, who are observing the training and waiting for the inevitable tears and injuries to tend to, can catch a glimpse of my weakness. Loathing the feelings that have taken hold of me, I still acknowledge that I shouldn’t be so hard on myself.
It’s been slightly over a week since I first admitted to myself that I harbor feelings for Alex, a realization that dawned on me in my father’s office. Over the past ten days, I’ve wrestled with this truth relentlessly, arriving at the same conclusion each time: denial is of no use.
Alongside this admission, another realization emerged. Falling in love with Alex had not only disrupted my carefully laid plans but also reshaped my self-perception. Erroneously, I had assumed I could remain immune to his allure. Instead, I fell for him head over heels.
Noise from the rink draws my attention, and I notice that practice has finished. My heart skips a beat when Alex removes his helmet and looks in my direction. Perhaps he’s wondering whether I’d be open to come to his house, which would undoubtedly lead to sex. However, my stomach ties itself into knots, and I’m beginning to think it might not be a wise move.
I avert my gaze from him and turn my attention to Alison. “Any urgent cases today?”
She appears surprised at hearing my voice. Ever since I abandoned my charade, I’ve allowed more of my authentic self to emerge. I no longer speak in hushed tones or lurk in the shadows. Given all that’s unfolded in recent days, I simply no longer possess the energy for it.
“Nothing,” Alison says finally. “If you need to beg off, I’ll cover for you. I don’t think we’re needed that much today.”
Aware that Alex still has his eyes on me, I push through the arena seats. Finally, I’m in the aisle, and it’s a short trip up the stairs and out of the stadium.
When I’m finally alone, the fresh air gently caressing my skin, I lean against the wall and take a moment to catch my breath.
Congratulations, I think. I’d gone from pretending to be shy to running away from the man I was determined not to fall for.
Unexpected tears pool in my eyes again, and I blink them back angrily, feeling more foolish by the minute.
Why the hell do I keep bawling? Yes, I’m in a mess, butthere’s absolutely no reason for me to mope every damn second.
The shuffling of feet behind me is a reminder that any second, someone is bound to come bursting out from the stadium. I hurry as fast as I can away from the main building. It takes merely a minute to find my car, an ancient hand-me-down Volvo that belonged to my mother. Slipping into it and driving out through the stadium’s gates feels comforting.
The moment I’m on the main road, my brain starts whizzing. What the hell do I do now?
This is the first time I’ve fallen in love. It’s rare for me to think about a man for longer than a few minutes. But Alex is different. And I can’t just pretend that it will magically go away if I ignore it long enough.
Perhaps I should tell Alex how I feel.
But even if I could summon enough courage to stand in front of the guy I’d sworn I hated numerous times and announce to him that I changed my mind and am now in love with him, I cannot help but dread what would happen.
The media is now painting him as one of the greatest romantics in the sports world, but I know better. Nothing about him has changed. He is still an irredeemable playboy, and the second we cut ties privately and publicly, he is going to find his next conquest.
Vomit claws up my throat. Barely able to hold it back, I realize that if I don’t find a restroom soon, it is going to be in this car.
Clamping my lips shut, I swerve dangerously off the main road and park in front of a Walgreens. I rush out of the car and almost run past the store threshold. It’s relatively empty, and the only member of staff is a bored cashier typing away on her phone.
“I need your bathroom,” I gasp at her, sweat pooling on my forehead from the strain of keeping my vomit down.
“Only customers can use the restroom,” she says, not even looking up at me.
