Fake Skating(100)

“Just play,” he said. “That’s all you have to do.”

“You make it sound so easy,” I said, my chest tight.

“It is,” he said, shrugging. “Just play the game, and the rest will happen the way it’s meant to.”

I cleared my throat, wishing it were that simple.

“Sometimes I look at you and I can’t imagine what it’d be like to have all that talent, right?” he said. “At my athletic best, I was a third-string point guard who didn’t have a three-pointer in me, yet here you are, the guy everybody wants on their team.”

I looked down at the table, afraid I’d start bawling like a little kid if I looked him in the eye. I was already blinking really fucking fast to hold it all in; eye contact would end me for sure.

“It’s great and it’s cool,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder, “but we’re still talking about a game here, kid. Hockey is a game. It isn’t life and death, even though sometimes it might feel like it. Work your ass off so you can play the game to your best ability, and then that’s it. No one’s gonna die if you win, and no one’s gonna die if you lose. We will all be fine no matter what happens on the ice, and who gives a shit about the scouts? Let the scouts worry about the scouts.”

I did look at him then, because fuck—he had a way of making it seem so basic, and all I wanted was to believe him.

“You hitting Ben Worthington was an idiot move, Al, but we’re all gonna be okay. We will.”

I nodded, not trusting that I was able to speak.

I didn’t deserve parents this cool, for starters. The way they supported me made me want to kick my own ass for being stupid and bringing more stress their way—like, what the fuck had I been thinking?

But on top of that, I was still so fucking scared of the legalities of what was coming.

“It’s going to be okay, Al,” my mom said, coming over and wrapping her arms around my neck. “We’ll get through whatever happens.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling like a little kid, and she kissed the top of my head.

“It’s okay, kiddo.” She tousled my hair and said, “It’s okay.”





CHAPTER FORTY-THREE Dani




I was quietly slipping my feet into my boots when my mom came out of her room.

And stopped in her tracks.

“Where are you going at”—she looked down at her watch—“six forty-five in the morning?”

There was no way for me to lie when I was wearing my coat, hat, and gloves, and my hand was literally on the doorknob.

“I, uh, I have to go talk to Benji about something before he leaves for practice,” I said, as if that made any sense whatsoever.

“You guys are friends now?” she asked, looking shocked.

“Not really, but it’s a whole thing,” I said vaguely, wanting her to let it go.

Needing to get out of there quickly.

“Well, I’m glad you’re up, because we need to talk about this whole thing with your dad,” she said, looking more serious than usual.

Which was fair and unsurprising.

“Did you know he was coming, honey?” she asked.

Please not yet.

I needed to deal with one nightmarish situation before moving on to the next.

“Um, no,” I said, shaking my head. “Listen, I have to go do this before Benji leaves for practice—can we talk about this when I come back?”

She sighed. “Fine. I have to run to Knowlan’s because we’re completely out of sugar, but as soon as I get back from the store, we’re hashing this out.”

“Thank you,” I said, throwing open the door and running down all the deck stairs.

It was barely light out as I went around the garage and crept through the bushes that separated our yards. I wasn’t exactly excited to wake up Benji’s dad as I rang the doorbell, but I was too desperate to let common courtesy stop me.

This was an emergency.

But the door opened almost immediately after I rang, and Benji was standing there, already dressed in a St. John’s Academy hoodie and joggers.

Like he was about to leave.

And whoa, his face.

He definitely had a black eye, and his nose did notlook good. It was swollen and kind of looked like Mr. Potato Head’s nose.

My stomach was dippy as I looked at him, and I wasn’t sure if it was because his face was kind of gross to look at, or because his face was hard evidence that could be used against Alec.

“Dani?”

Yeah, I’m surprised to be here too.

“Can I talk to you for a second, Ben?” I asked, looking behind him to see if his dad was in the room.

“He’s not here,” Benji said. “Come on in.”

I followed him inside, crossing my arms and having no idea where to start.

“What’s up?” he said as he shut the door, but we both knew this had to do with his face and what’d happened the night before.

I took a deep breath, tried to come up with some clever argument, but then just blurted, “Please don’t go to the police, Ben.”

He opened his mouth, but I held up a hand.

“I know you two hate each other and I’m sure this seems like a good idea. He shouldn’t have hit you. But he was trying, in his own way, to defend me, so I feel responsible.”