The Fake Out (Vancouver Storm, #2)(106)

He’s new and he’s just doing his job, so I clamp my mouth shut, even as every cell in my body vibrates with impatience.

Five minutes later, ticket in hand, I’m hurrying down the steps in the stands toward the tunnel where the players will come out of. I take a spot along the railing, shaking with anticipation. People stare at me, but I don’t care. They probably think I’m an obsessed fan, or maybe they recognize me as Rory’s girlfriend and wonder what the hell I’m doing, but all I can think about is how devastated Rory must be.

Finally, the team files out. Hayden gives me a questioning look, but my attention’s on the player with a C on his jersey right behind him.

“Rory.”

He does a double take at me, shock all over his face, and I lean over the railing, grab the front of his jersey, and pull him to me.

Security guards rush at us from all sides.

“Ma’am,” one says, “take your hands off him.”

“Back off,” I snap.

I am the unhinged, impulsive one with her heart on her sleeve.

Rory starts to smile, eyes wide like he’s afraid of me, but he shakes his head at the employee behind me. “It’s okay.” His eyes meet mine. “What—”

“I love you.” I pull him closer, and his hands come to my shoulders so I don’t fall over the railing.

He huffs a laugh, relief flooding his eyes. “I love you, too.”

“I know. I’m not letting you go.”

“I’m not letting you go.”

I see it in his eyes—he means it. Rory’s all in, but so am I.

The players are either on the ice or the bench, and Ward glances over at us, wondering what’s holding up the captain. My gaze lifts to the Jumbotron, and my pulse jumps. The camera’s on me and Rory. Great.

“If you get traded,” I tell Rory, “we’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it all out. I’m not scared.”

His expression is so earnest it breaks my heart. “I’m not leaving you.”

“I know.” I pull him closer, leaning down to kiss him. Our lips crash together and cheering breaks out in the arena. My feet are in the air, and a moment later, Rory’s pulling me over the railing, setting me down, kissing me harder.

The applause turns into a roar, people hooting and hollering as Rory’s hand comes to the back of my head and he kisses me deeper. I feel his kiss all the way to my toes, warming every nerve and cell in my body. When we break apart to sneak a glance at the Jumbotron, our faces are still up there for everyone to see.

“I can’t leave this team, Hazel,” he whispers, worry in his eyes.

“I know.”

“After the game,” he says, holding my face, “we’ll go talk to Ward about the trade, okay?”

I nod, and he presses another kiss to my mouth. God, I hope Ward keeps him. The idea of Rory playing for another team after everything this season feels so wrong.

“Miller, let’s go,” Ward calls.

Rory presses one, two, three more kisses to my mouth before pulling away, and I watch him skate to center ice for the puck drop.

For the rest of the game, my stomach is in knots while the fans murmur around us about the trade.





CHAPTER 80





RORY





Outside Ward’s office, we can hear him talking on the phone, probably fielding calls from other organizations. Nausea rolls through me, but Hazel slips her hand into mine.

“Freaking out yet?” I ask.

She shakes her head, eyes steady on me. “Nope. I meant what I said about us figuring it out.”

“Your studio—” I start, but she covers my mouth with her hand.

“I said we’ll figure it out.”

I sigh, nodding, and she replaces her hand with her mouth on mine. I think about her snapping at the security guard to back off while telling me she loved me and I feel like laughing, but then I remember that I might get sent away and leave everything good I’ve collected this season, and the ugly feeling in my chest hardens.

At our side, someone clears their throat, and we break apart.

My blood runs cold at the sight of the man in front of us. “Dad.”

I didn’t even know he was in town. He’s the last person I want to see right now.

“Rory.” He shifts, glancing between me and Hazel, and for the first time, he doesn’t look like the stern man who raised me.

He looks worried.

Hazel stiffens, removing her hand from mine before sticking a finger in my dad’s face.

“You,” she says in a demonic voice. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

My dad’s eyes go wide.

“You’re the fucking worst,” Hazel spits out, stabbing her finger in the middle of his chest.

“Can I—” he starts.

“No.” She pokes him again. “I’m talking. Your only job was to love Rory, and you fucked up, Rick. You fucked up big time.”

She’s terrifying.

My dad turns to me with a strange expression, eyebrows at his hairline and eyes flashing with pain. It’s the expression he wore when my mom walked out, I realize, and my chest aches.

“Is that what you think?” he asks in a low voice. “That I don’t love you?”