Fake Skating(44)

“Mom said they were for everyone.”

“She was right if everyone means me,” he growled.

“You’re not going to share your donuts with your granddaughter?” my mom asked, looking irritated by the entire conversation.

“Not if she’s gonna defend that jackass you used to be married to.”

“Language, Dad,” my mom said before turning to me, and then, anticipating my sarcastic response, quickly blurted out, “But back to my initial question—you didn’t have any unusual conversations with Dad or anything? I’ve known him long enough to know that when he gets all nice like this, it’s usually because he’s setting me up for something.”

“No,” I lied, injecting my voice with all sorts of casual. My stomach knotted with guilt as I looked at her, because I loved my mom more than anyone in the world. I shouldn’t be lying to her.

But I also wasn’t going to bring up the conversation we’d had, because how would that even go?

Hey, Dad was trying to see if I would move to Omaha and leave you behind and I didn’t exactly tell him no because I want him to move back to the States.

Yeah, no.

I was beyond happy when I heard the sound of Alec’s noisy car pulling into the driveway, saving me from having to lie anymore. I hopped up from the table, grabbing my backpack.

“I don’t need a ride today because Alec is picking me up,” I blurted out, opening the fridge to grab a Red Bull.

“What?” my mom asked, looking surprised.

“Who the hell is Alec,” Grandpa Mick asked in that not-a-question tone of his.

“Alec Barczewski, Sarah and John’s boy,” my mom said, still looking at me like she was trying to figure things out.

He took off his readers. “Who?”

I wanted to roll my eyes but I didn’t. “Zeus? The one you said reminds you of, like, Conners or Krampus or—”

“Kronwall,” he said, closing the newspaper with a sigh. “Niklas Kronwall. They both backpedal hit—”

A knock sounded at the kitchen door, interrupting my grandpa’s hockey briefing.

I’d hoped to run outside and avoid this, but here we were. I opened the door, and once again, I was unprepared for Alec’s appearance.

He was wearing black joggers and a Southview jersey—nothing unusual—but his size kept surprising me. I was five-seven, yet he seemed to be like a foottaller than me.

And a filled-outtall boy, not some gangly stick guy.

“Good morning, Collins,” he said, grinning down at me.

He smelled good, like he’d just stepped out of the shower, and I put my hand on my stomach to quell whatever riot was happening when he smiled at me that way.

“Good morning, Barczewski,” I said. “We were just talking about you.”

“Obsessed already,” he teased, his eyes moving all over my face.

It’s only an act, I reminded myself, because one second of his flirting was already showing me just how powerful it could be.

Dear God.

“It was him, actually,” I said, pointing to the table. “My grandpa thinks you backpedal hit like a cornball.”

It was comical, the way Alec’s face immediately changed when he looked at my grandpa. The teasing went away and he looked like a nervous little boy, like a kid who had no idea what to say.

His throat moved around a swallow, and my eyes got a little stuck on his neck.

Grandpa Mick shook his head like I was pathetic. “For God’s sake, I said you hit like Kronwall,” he corrected.

“Oh.” Alec looked like he definitely didn’t know what to say when he was being complimented by my grandpa. “Thank you.”

“Hey, kid,” my mom said to Alec with a big smile. “Thanks for being her chauffeur today.”

“I figured you needed a break from this one,” he said, again with the cute teasing.

“We should go,” I said, looking back and forth between him and my mom, who was freaking beaming.

“You’ve got everything you need?” she asked. “You have lunch money?”

“Yep,” I said, noticing the way Alec looked at me like he knew I was pocketing her money and avoiding the cafeteria entirely.

“Text me later so I know how things are going,” my mom said, pulling me in for a big hug.

“I will.” I took a deep breath, feeling like a little kid as I inhaled the Eternity she’d worn my entire life, and wished I could just stay home with her all day long.

“You guys ready for tonight?” my grandpa asked, zero warmth in his tone.

I pulled back from my mom as Alec gave Grandpa Mick a nod. “Eagan’s playing good hockey right now, but as long as we stick to our game, they shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Right, another game tonight.” I groaned. “Please tell me there won’t be another pep rally.”

“No, that one covered the rest of the season, so you’re safe.”

“Thank God.”

Alec held open the door for me as we left, and as soon as the cold air blasted me in the face, I was filled with nervousness, because what was I doing?

Like, was I seriously going to do this?

Also—what the hell was Alec driving?

It was a silver car, but the bumper and one of the side panels were black, like they’d been taken from another vehicle.