The Fake Out (Vancouver Storm, #2)(95)

Owens watches me with an expression I can’t name. “Hazel’s the best,” he finally says.

My heart beats harder. “I know.”

“And she deserves the best.”

My gaze turns sharp, and I picture the face my mom made when her friend said I looked like my dad. “I know.”

Owens just gives me that kind, open smile. “So it’s a good thing she has you, buddy.”

He gives me a playful shove. Something in my chest eases.

“You stayed here for the holidays?”

“Yep. Kit’s parents moved to Toronto to be closer to his sister, so I mostly hung out with Darcy.”

Right. Kit’s girlfriend. The one he’s always looking at. My eyes narrow, and guilt flashes in his gaze.

“Nothing’s going on,” he says quickly, clearing his throat and looking away. “I don’t mess around with girls who are taken.” Around his beer glass, his knuckles are white.

“And Darcy’s taken.”

“Yep.”

“You guys went to university together, right?”

He nods. “Kit and I were friends in high school and we met Darcy in our first year. We all lived in the same dorm and Darcy and I had a bunch of classes together.”

“Isn’t she an actuary?” That’s what Hazel mentioned the other day. “Why would you be in math classes?”

“She was in my English classes.”

I sit back and fold my arms over my chest. “You like her.”

“We’re friends.” His mouth tightens. “Best friends. And now Kit’s making comments about them getting married.” He downs the rest of his beer. “I don’t want to make things weird with her.” His throat works. “And I’d never do that to Kit,” he says, like that’s the end of it. His expression turns wry. “Maybe I’ll do what you did and find a girl to play my fake girlfriend to make her jealous.”

I nearly choke on my beer, coughing.

“Come on.” He shoots me a grin. “Hazel fucking hated you, and then McKinnon shows up and you’re together? You don’t have to be a genius to figure that one out.”

I start laughing. “Does everyone know?”

He shakes his head, still grinning. “Nah. I didn’t say anything.” Jordan drops off another beer and he thanks her.

“You’re a good guy, Owens.”

“And you’re a good captain.” He clinks his glass against mine. “Cheers, asshole.”

I finish my beer, and because it’s still the break, I catch Jordan’s eye, silently requesting another.

It’s the holiday, and I’m having fun with my friend. Hazel would say I deserve good things in my life.

“The question is,” Owens says with another playful grin, “does Hazel know it’s not fake?’

My smile stretches from ear to ear as I think about her whispering say it again. “Yep. Told her last night.” Excitement races through me. I can’t wait to get home to her.

“Ah, shit.” Owens stands and moves to my side of the booth, engulfing me in a back-slapping bear hug while I laugh. “Happy for you, man.”

Streicher walks in the door and waves hello to Jordan before making his way over to us.

“Hey,” Owens calls, lifting his glass as Streicher slides into the booth. “There he is. Get a drink. We’re celebrating.”





After saying goodnight to Jordan, we pour out of the bar and into the cold, crisp night.

My head’s spinning, so I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. “You guys. The air smells so good.”

I think about waking up this morning with my face buried in Hazel’s neck, inhaling her.

My Hazel.

I grab the front of Streicher’s jacket as we walk. “Hazel smells incredible. Does Pippa smell good? Why do girls smell so good?”

He shakes his head at me, smiling, and behind him, Owens and Volkov laugh.

“You’re drunk,” Streicher says.

“I’m drunk,” I admit to them. “I haven’t been drunk in years.”

“Don’t worry, Miller,” Owens says. “We’ll get you home safe to Hazel.”

I hum to myself, thoughts floating. “She’s so pretty.” I dig into my pocket and yank my keys out, holding up the plastic dragon key chain she got me. “Did I show you this? She bought it for me. She made me a stocking.” My words smear together.

Owens groans. “You showed us. You showed everyone in the bar.”

I smile at the little dragon, glinting from the streetlights above. It’s so cute. I love it.

“I love Hazel. I love her a lot.” I tuck the key chain back in my pocket and grin stupidly at Streicher. “We’re going to get married.”

Streicher cracks another grin, Volkov rolls his eyes, and Owens is laughing so hard he can’t breathe.

“Does she know that?” Owens asks.

I pull out my phone to look at the picture of her in high school, smiling reluctantly. “Not yet. But one day.”

She went with me to my mom’s house. She knows me. She sees who I really am, and yet she’s still sleeping in my bed, telling me she’s not going anywhere.

A sign in a tattoo parlor window catches my eye—OPEN.