Fake Skating(43)

I put the photo back—fucking sentimental dipshit—because I kept forgetting the important piece of this puzzle.

I wasn’t the same guy anymore.

Since the minute I heard she was moving back, I’d been all twisted up trying to convince myself I didn’t give a shit about her. Because when we were kids, I’d always been half-obsessed with her, pudgy little Alec chasing Dani around while she laughed and chased me back.

But Dani Collins didn’t have any power over me anymore, because I was no longer that kid. Faking nice with her wasn’t going to kill me or make me fucking sprout feelings, for God’s sake, because it was just a means to an end.

“And if I don’t want to do this,” she said, “is the hockey-manager position off the table?”

Yes, it’s off the table, I wanted to snap, but I didn’t. “I wouldn’t say it’s off the table, but if you do this, it’s on the table with ribbons and bows and I’ll make it so easy that you will thank me and name all your sons after me.”

“That’s hard to imagine,” she said, “because isn’t your middle name Herbert?”

“RIP Grandpa Herb, do not disrespect his glorious name,” I said, surprised she remembered.

“I would never—Herb was an icon,” she said, and I heard a smile again.

“So…?” I prodded.

Please, please, please.

“Hmmm,” she said slowly, like she was really weighing her options.

“Please?” I added, just in case it helped. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said. “And I’ll let you know in the morning.”

“How about I pick you up?” I heard myself blurt, throwing out words and ride offers in a desperate attempt to convince her.

“Are you sure you’re not just going to drive your car through Benji’s house like a jackass when you get here?” she asked.

“I can’t promise anything,” I said.

She sighed. “So mature.”

And then I couldn’t stop myself. I asked, “You aren’t seriously texting buddies with that piece of shit, are you?”

She was quiet for a minute, but then she just said, “I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t be late.”





CHAPTER NINETEEN Dani




I groaned when my alarm went off, because I was not a fan of mornings.

At all.

That being said, I turned it off and jumped out of bed because I wanted time to “casually” chat with my mom before Alec showed up. I couldn’t guarantee he wasn’t going to run into the kitchen and hijack the narrative, so I had to get to her first.

“Good morning,” I said to my mom as I went into the kitchen and straight for the cupboard. “Are we ever going to use our kitchen in the apartment upstairs?”

“I’m sure we will,” she said. “But this one is bigger and brighter, and the cabinets are always stocked. Since I haven’t really grocery shopped since we moved here, I gravitate toward the one with food.”

“Okay, fair,” I said, pulling out a little bag of Hostess Powdered Donettes. “Can I have some of these?”

“Sure,” she said.

“I just want to make sure they aren’t Grandpa’s,” I said, because my mom never bought teensy trash donuts (that were delicious).

“He’s your grandpa, so I’m sure he wants you to help yourself to anything in the pantry,” she said.

“Hmm.” I took the white bag over to the table and sat down, still a little unsure if I should be eating the sugary donuts.

“By the way…” My mom cleared her throat and looked weird. “Have you talked to Dad lately? Is something going on with him?”

“Why?” I asked, feeling like my stomach suddenly weighed more than usual.

“I don’t know… he sent me this voice memo where he was being really nice, saying that we are adults and that, because of you, he wants to make sure we have a good relationship.”

“That sounds nice,” I said, instantly stressed, because what was he up to? Was he trying to butter her up so he could talk to her about me possibly moving? That couldn’t be it, because he’d hung up on me for not loving the idea, right?

“It does, but it sounds a little too nice,” she said.

“Dad can be nice,” I said, even though I wholeheartedly agreed with her suspicion.

“Bullshit,” my grandpa said with a fake cough as he walked into the kitchen.

That irritated me, though Mom beat me to any response. “Dad, don’t.”

“I was just coughing,” he said, going over to the cupboard and pulling out his mug, the same old North Stars mug he’d used for my entire life.

I don’t know what got into me when I asked, “When was the last time you saw him? Like five years ago? And before that you maybe talked to him once, twice a year? Do you really know him?”

Though I was annoyed with my grandpa, the ask was sincere.

He crossed his arms and looked surprised by my questions. “I know enough, trust me.”

Okay…

“Are you eating my Donettes?” he asked with his eyebrows down.