The Fake Out (Vancouver Storm, #2)(3)

“Connor McKinnon.”

I freeze, gaze snapping to Streicher’s as a bad feeling moves through my gut. “That’s—”

“Yep.” He glares at his phone, rereading. “Hazel’s ex.”

My shoulders tense. I fucking hate that prick.

Yes, I’m a cocky, antagonistic asshole who needs to be the center of attention. But McKinnon? McKinnon is fucking scum. He went to our high school. For two years, I watched Hazel make goddamned heart eyes at him while he barely cared. He talked down to her. Dismissed her. On and off the ice, he’s aggressive and entitled.

Pippa said they broke up sometime toward the end of Hazel’s first year at university. I don’t know what happened, but Hazel doesn’t date hockey players anymore.

Protective instincts rage through me. I don’t want him anywhere near her.

“Who’s his physio?” I ask, clearing my throat and trying to keep my voice casual.

Streicher sighs, and I’m already shaking my head.

“Hazel,” he says.

Fuck. I need to do something about this.

Tomorrow, at Streicher and Pippa’s engagement party, I’ll talk to her.





CHAPTER 2





HAZEL





“Congratulations,” I say into Pippa’s hair as we hug at her engagement party the next evening. “I love you and I’m so happy for you two, but if he breaks your heart, I’ll photoshop pictures of him in diapers with a dominatrix and release them on the internet.”

We pull back and she grins. The intimate restaurant I booked for the event is filled with our family, Vancouver Storm players and their partners, and a few friends from the tour Pippa opened for this summer as a singer-songwriter while she promoted her new album.

“I’m just kidding,” I tell her, tugging on a lock of her long, wavy, honey-blond hair.

She laughs. “I know.”

Under the soft, dim lighting in the restaurant, she’s glowing. Maybe that’s what happens to people when they fall head over heels like my sister did. Jamie needed an assistant when he moved to Vancouver; little did he know it would be his high school crush who he’d end up engaged to.

Behind her, Jamie looks on with a small smile, leaning down to give me a big hug.

“I’m not kidding,” I whisper, and he snorts.

“Thanks for organizing this.” His eyes go to Pippa, who’s deep in conversation with our parents and Jamie’s mom. “It means a lot to us.”

Emotion rises up my throat. “You’re welcome. I really am thrilled for you two.” I give him a tentative smile. “I know she’s everything to you and you’ll take care of her, and I’m happy you’re going to be my brother-in-law.”

He arches an eyebrow, but there’s a teasing spark in his eyes. “Even if I’m a hockey player?”

I huff a laugh. At the beginning of their relationship, I made my thoughts on hockey players—that they’re treated like gods and feel entitled to whatever and whoever they want—very clear to Pippa. “You’re the exception. I wouldn’t let just anyone marry my little sister.”

That warm, liquid emotion moves up my throat again, stinging my eyes as he gives my shoulder a squeeze.

“Let’s get some photos before dinner,” my mom says, gesturing at Pippa and Jamie.

“One second.” Pippa grabs my hand and starts pulling me away. “I need Hazel to help me with the… something.”

“What something?” I ask as she hauls me through the restaurant. “I’ll take care of it so you can have fun—”

In the quiet foyer area at the front of the restaurant, away from the guests in the main dining area, she whirls on me. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Uh.” I scramble for an excuse for not answering her three texts about the team’s new trade.

“Connor is on the team now, Hazel.”

For the tenth time in the last twenty-four hours, my stomach drops through the floor. “I know.”

It’s all I’ve fucking thought about. My lying, cheating, manipulative, narcissistic ex is now on the hockey team I work for, and I’m assigned to be his physiotherapist.

All night, I tossed and turned.

“What are we doing about it?” she asks.

I can’t quit, because working for the team is an incredible experience, and I actually love my job. The senior physios are knowledgeable and kind, and it’s surprisingly rewarding, working with the players. While I’m saving to open my own inclusive fitness studio one day, working for the Storm is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’d be stupid to walk away.

“Nothing,” I tell her, putting on a neutral smile like I don’t care. “We’re doing nothing.”

“He cheated on you.”

My stomach clenches, and I think about that party back in university when everyone watched, whispering. What he said to me and how it’s stuck with me for years.

“I’m well aware.” I keep my voice low and my expression pleasant in case anyone looks over. “Everyone saw that I’m his physio, including him. If we change it now, everyone will know—”

My words hang in the air as I cut myself off. The deeper we get into this, the more erratic my heart beats. Even Pippa doesn’t know the full truth.