Fake Skating(55)

They were a couple.

It absolutely destroyed me, but the realization that he hadn’t even felt the need to break up with me was what shattered every little piece of my heart. I’d been so forgotten that it hadn’t even occurred to him that he needed to end our relationship before starting another one.

I was just somebody that he used to know.

I cleared my throat and forced myself back to the present, because revisiting all the crap never helped anything.

It wasa good reminder, though, that all these people I was suddenly spending time with were wrapped up in our fake arrangement and not real at all.

And right on cue, I heard Alec’s voice. “You ready to go, Collins?”

Right. Relationships hurt, and I wasn’t about to let Alec—and the toe-curling smile that dared me to answer—make me forget that.

“Sure.”



* * *



Alec pulled up in front of a cute yellow house and put the car in park. There were a lot of cars lined up on the street, so we definitely weren’t the first ones to arrive.

I took a deep breath through my nose, wishing I’d just said no to this. I was new enough that no one would’ve missed me.

“So what do I need to know about this dinner?” I asked, my stomach filled with butterflies at the thought of walking into a house full of people I didn’t know.

“You eat,” he said, shrugging. “That’s it.”

“Wow, you’ve really illuminated what I can expect from this experience, thank you.” I pushed open the car door and stepped out, wondering if I’d ever stop gasping at the wicked snap of the cold on my skin.

And it was snowing hard now, big, fat flakes that slapped you in the face.

“It’s just something the parents do to make sure we have a good meal the night before a game,” he said as we both walked toward the driveway. “Nothing to overthink.”

He didn’t know that was all I did.

Overthink.

“I feel like my sandwich might’ve ruined other meals for you, though,” I said, filling the quiet of the night with rambling to cover my nerves.

“For the record, today’s sandwich was actually not bad,” he lied. I was sure of it.

When we got to the front door, Alec didn’t knock or ring the doorbell—he just walked in.

I followed, having zero idea what to expect as we stepped inside.

Ahhhh, warmth.

“Alec!” A woman, presumably Vinny’s mom, looked over from where she was standing in front of the sink and smiled before she set down the towel she was holding and came over. She was wearing jeans and a Packers crewneck, her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she smiled like she loved us. “The guys—and Cassie—are out in the garage already. You must be Dani.”

“Hi,” I said, nodding, a little surprised she knew of me when I’d only just found out I was coming.

“Are you adjusting to the weather yet?” she asked. “Big John said you’re not a fan.”

She knows Big John and they’ve discussed me?

I was so confused by this place. Why in God’s name would Iever come up in conversation?

“I mean, it’s brutal, right?” I said. “It’s snowed every day since we moved here.”

“Believe it or not, you’ll adjust,” she said warmly, like she really wished the best for me. “So what do you think of hockey so far?”

“She thinks I look hot in my breezers,” Alec said with a grin, and then he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer. “Right?”

I rolled my eyes while every nerve ending in my body shorted out. I was impressed by how chill I sounded when I said, “No one has ever looked hotter in tiny padded pants.”

That made Vinny’s mom laugh, and before I had a second to say anything else, Alec’s hand slid down to mine and he was pulling me away from her and toward what looked to be the patio door.

Now he’s holding my hand in front of adults.

He’d held it at school, but this felt like more somehow.

Tighter. More physical.

I said, “Don’t you think this is a bit much—”

“Hard launch for the over-eighteen crowd, baby,” he said in my ear, his voice deep and quiet and for some reason making my heart beat just a little faster.

Probably just because he’d startled me.

But… baby.

“Oh,” I managed, looking at his face while my brain just kept repeating, He’s holding your hand like that he’s holding your hand like that Alec Barczewski is holding your hand.

Like that.

“Come on.” He opened the sliding glass door, then let go of my hand the minute we stepped outside in the cold, dark, snowy evening. The snow seemed to insulate the world, making it strangely quiet as he closed the door behind us.

It was freezing, so I cleared my throat and said, “Are we seriously going to eat in the garage? Won’t we freeze to death?”

“Oh, Dani,” he said, shaking his head like I was a ridiculous child. “It’s like you’ve never seen the inside of a Minnesotan garage before.”

I followed him through the backyard and out to the detached yellow garage that matched the house. When he pulled open the door that was right beside the two-car overhead door, I was shocked to feel warmth.