Fake Skating(78)

“What for?” Grandpa Mick asked, looking surprised.

“I just want to send Alec a picture. He’s going to lose his mind when he sees who’s teaching me boot hockey.”

That made him laugh, and something in my heart felt warm and full when I put my arm around Grandpa Mick’s shoulders and we grinned, together, for the photo.

I texted it to Alec with the caption: Check out who’s teaching me boot hockey.

His response was almost immediate.

Alec: Damn, Collins. BADASS.

Me: Right??

Alec: Also I like the braids.

I was positive he was saying that in character—he’s just pretending, he’s just pretending—but even so, the comment made me feel a little gooey.

Me: Prepare to see them whip past you tomorrow when I break free with a clapper.

I wasn’t sure if I got the slang right, because he just responded: Alec: That is the most adorable thing you’ve ever said to me.





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO Alec




“She doesn’t suck as much as I thought she would,” Kyle said from his spot beside me on the park bench.

“Must be Mick’s genes,” I said in agreement.

“I can hear you, y’know,” Dani yelled from where she was scrambling on the ice, and I fucking loved the attitude. She was giving my friends shit and laughing, looking cute as hell in one of Mick’s old jerseys as she tore around like the scrappy little shit that she was.

“If you can hear me, answer this, Collins,” I yelled. “Why do you keep slamming into the boards?”

Since the game started, she’d be running just fine and then, boom—she’d go full speed into the boards before turning and getting back to it.

“Because I fall down every time I try to switch directions,” she said, running and holding out her stick like it was a baton and she was in a relay race. “I think it must be my shoes. So it’s easier to just slam into the wall.”

“Did Mick teach you that?” Kyle asked, laughing.

“No, but I guarantee he’d appreciate it. He’s a ‘do whatever it takes’ kind of guy, and I would rather body-slam the wall than keep falling down.”

“I actually respect that,” Richie said.

“So do I,” agreed Kyle.

“Yeah, because I’m sure that’s her goal,” Cassie said as she smacked the puck. “To gain your respect.”

“I think everyone who isn’t playing should just shut up,” Dani said, panting a little as she straightened and leveled a glare in our direction.

“Oooh,” Richie said, giving me a grin.

Dani had, for some reason, thought that wewere going to be playing.

But it was hockey season—no waywould we fuck around on the ice when the tournament was in play. Even if we were stupid enough to wantto, Coach would kill us.

Her team got their asses kicked, of course.

But I was impressed.

Dani went hard, even if she didn’t go pretty.

When she came off the ice, she was whining to Cassie about how sore her thighs were, holding one of Mick’s sticks (which we’d all freaked out about when she showed up).

“Do you want me to carry you?” I asked.

Her gaze shot to mine, the tiny furrow between her brows letting me know I’d surprised her. She covered it by saying, “I’m still mad at you.”

“You can’t still be mad,” I said, distracted by the way her brown eyes looked when she teased me. “It was a misunderstanding. I never told you we’d be playing.”

“It was implied.”

“Was not,” I said.

“Fine, you can carry me because my thighs are burning,” she replied, smiling in the relaxed way that was becoming more frequent, like she was finally feeling comfortable here. “But I reserve the right to still be pissed at you.”

“Good girl.” I turned and pointed my ass in her direction. “Get on.”

“Wait, no—your shoulder,” she said quickly, stopping herself. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.I straightened and turned around to see not only Dani looking at me with worry on her face, but the guys, too.

“What’s wrong with your shoulder?” Kyle asked.

“Zeus?” Richie looked over at me with raised eyebrows, waiting.

“He hurt it in a game,” Dani explained, “and it’s—”

“Fine,” I said, cutting her off and smiling. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” she said, looking at me like I’d lost my mind. “It’s killing him—”

“Honey,” I interrupted, very aware of the way the guys were looking at me, “I might’ve been a little dramatic about the shoulder.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

I could tell she wasn’t buying it but couldn’t figure out why I was being dishonest.

“You were being such a good nurse,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t be pissed at my lie. “I maybe leaned into it a bit.”

Richie started laughing, and I just shot her a look and said, “Get on.”

“Okay,” she said, handing me her stick while eyeing me suspiciously. “But we’re going to talk about this later.”