The Fake Out: a fake dating hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 2)
The Fake Out: a fake dating hockey romance: Chapter 50

THE NEXT DAY, I arrive early at the arena for the charity skating event and take a seat near the entrance to the rink, where I’m meeting Rory after he’s done training.

My stomach pitches with butterflies. Rory, whom I wasn’t supposed to mess around with because this whole thing is fake, but whom I can’t stop thinking about.

My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket, yanking my thoughts back to the present.

It’s a text from one of my students, Laura, with a link to a studio space for rent. I’ve confided about my future dream with her.

The owner is a family friend who lives in Iran, she texts. He’ll be back in town for the holidays and he wants to rent the place out fast.

I open the link she sent. Two decent-sized studio rooms, a spacious front entrance, and three smaller side rooms, two of which could be used as physiotherapy or massage rooms. The rent is expensive but the location is stellar, only two blocks from the Skytrain. It’s in a new building, so it probably has excellent accessibility.

Interesting. A place like this would go fast.

Am I ready, though? Reluctance rises in me.

In my hand, my phone buzzes, and my heart jumps at the name flashing across the screen.

“Hi, Mom,” I answer.

“Hi, honey.” Her tone is warm. “Is this a bad time?”

“Never. I’m about to go to a charity skating event with the team, but it doesn’t start for a bit.”

“Skating?”

I smile at the ice, where event staff are setting up. “Yep. Skating. Rory taught me.”

And tomorrow afternoon, Christmas Eve, we’re flying out to spend Christmas with my family. I’m in so fucking deep.

She makes a pleased noise. “The photos of you two from when we had dinner together are so sweet.”

The family dinner. My stomach wobbles as I remember what Rory and Pippa both said. I know I need to bring it up, and that I can’t avoid it forever.

Keep being a safe place for her to land, Pippa said.

“I wish I’d gotten a photo with you,” I admit.

She makes that joking, dismissive noise she always does. “Next time, after I’ve gotten rid of the vacation weight.”

I shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s a tiny cut to my heart every time she says those things. The words lodge in my throat, but I force them out.

“I don’t like when you make comments about dieting and needing to lose weight.”

“Honey, that’s because you’re thin.”

“No—” I catch myself, trying to keep my cool. “You’re beautiful, and it’s hard to hear you insult yourself.”

“So I want to go running more, so what?” She laughs but it’s brittle. “I feel better when I’m thin.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” I sigh. “I want you to feel amazing regardless of what size you are. You’re so many things, Mom. You’re funny and smart and an incredible mom, and none of those things have anything to do with your weight. It’s fine if you want to be skinny, but you’re still beautiful and amazing if you aren’t.”

She’s quiet, and I reach past all the reluctance, down to the most vulnerable parts of myself.

“I love you,” I tell her. “And I want you to love yourself as much as we all love you. I want you to take a dance class and feel the same joy you used to feel—”

“Dance class?” Her tone is weird and tight, and my stomach knots.

“There’s a dance studio in Evergreen.” The town next to Silver Falls. “They do adult classes on Thursday evenings.”

She scoffs, crushing me. “So I can wear a leotard and have everyone stare at me?”

My face falls. “People just wear normal workout clothes. They do barre exercises to pop music.” My voice gets quieter because I know this isn’t working.

“You’re always going on about how we’re the boss of our own bodies.” Her tone is sharp. “So let me say what I want about myself.”

My mouth clamps closed, and silence stretches between us.

“I should get going,” she says.

“Okay.” Cold misery settles in my stomach. “Bye. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Bye.”

The call ends and I sit there, staring at nothing. I failed her. Again.

“Hey.”

I jolt to replace Rory towering over me in his Storm jersey and skates. The tension around my heart loosens. “Hi.”

He tilts his chin to the phone in my hand. “Everything okay?”

When I don’t answer right away, he sits beside me, arm coming up around my shoulders to pull me into him. I melt against him.

“That was my mom.”

“Yeah?” He watches my eyes with concern.

“We had another argument.”

“I’m sorry, Hartley.” He lets out a heavy breath with a heartbroken expression, like my pain is his pain, and even though I’m upset from the call with my mom and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with Rory these days, the look in his eyes makes my heart expand.

He gives me the softest, most affectionate kiss, and all the stuff with my mom fades to the background. His fresh scent surrounds me and I smile against his mouth.

“You always make me feel better,” I whisper.

“Good.” He smiles, and I fall a little harder for him.

The text from earlier snags in my thoughts. “A student sent me this.” I open the link and hand the phone to him, watching as he scrolls through.

“This is nicer than the studio I sent you.”

“More expensive, too.”

“And a better location. Close to your apartment and mine.”

My stomach does a slow roll. It shouldn’t matter that Rory’s apartment is close to this space—I haven’t even seen his place—but deep down, it does. I love that he thinks about these things, even if I’m not ready to.

“I don’t know.” My brow wrinkles.

“Okay.” He hands my phone back, and his gaze is steady and encouraging. “For what it’s worth, I think you should take a look. There’s no commitment in just seeing the space.” He nudges me, mouth tipping up. “I’ll go with you.”

I can picture it—us viewing the space together—and the image makes it so much less terrifying. “I’ll think about it.”

He winks. “Good.” He glances to where kids, parents, and players filter onto the ice. “Ready to go show them what you’ve learned, Hartley?”

I nod and smile. “You bet.”

He pokes his tongue in his cheek, hiding a smile. It’s his I’ve done something bad grin.

“What’s that look?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

“I hung the spiderweb thing in McKinnon’s locker stall.”

I burst out laughing so loud people glance over before clapping a hand over my mouth.

“I’m surprised you were able to hang it up.” He shredded the thing.

His eyes spark with mischief as I shake with laughter while he laces up my skates, and when he stands and holds a hand out to me, I take it without hesitation.