Page 18 of Faking It with my Hockey Crush

We come to the end of the session, and as usual, I head to the door.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks.

Even his tone is serious, and now I’m beginning to worry that he’s gotten bad news or something.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

He shakes his head and drops his gaze. “Not really.”

Gesturing to my desk, I get him to sit down while I sit in the chair beside him. “I know I’m not that kind of therapist, but I’m here to listen if you need someone to talk to. I see this low mood in athletes all the time, especially when—”

“It’s not like that,” he says quickly. “Actually, you know what? This is a bad idea.”

He goes to stand up, but I put my hand on his arm and stop him. “Hey. Talk to me.”

A minute passes before he eventually begins to speak again.

“You know why I’m back, right? You’ve heard what they’re saying on the news.”

I could lie. I could tell him I have no idea, but it wouldn’t be the truth. The same day he arrived in our office, I went home and looked him up. I don’t follow sports, so I was pretty surprised by what I saw online. I mean, sure, Ryan could be a jerk, but he wasn’t racist.

“Yes. I have,” I admit.

“Well, basically, it’s a PR nightmare. I’m not racist, Emma. They’re taking what I said completely out of context.”

“Okay.”

“My agent called me yesterday. He said I was in big trouble. He made some suggestions, one of which I spent all night thinking about. In fact, I’ve hardly slept.” He sighs. “He thinks the media needs a distraction. Something else to fill the headlines. Something big, like getting married.”

“Wow,” I gasp. My surprise is genuine. I mean, there’s a distraction, and then there’s a lifelong commitment. “That’s a bit over the top isn’t it?”

“That’s what I thought, but then…” He hesitates. “But then I thought about you.”

My forehead does a dance all of its own because at first, I’m frowning in confusion, and a second later, my eyes are flying wide open when I realize what he means.

“No way!” I cry. “Are you out of your mind?”

“It wouldn’t be real,” he blurts. “Everything would be fake. The certificates, the wedding, everything.”

I’m now off my chair and pacing back and forth like a crazy person. “I don’t care. There is not a chance, even if it is pretend.”

He heaves a sigh and then drops his head. “It’s okay. I figured that’s what you’d say. It’s just… my whole career is on the line. Everything I’ve ever worked for, my dream, all my years of training, working my way up the ranks, everything. It’ll all get taken from me.”

For the first time since he’s been back in Maple Springs, I see Ryan Steele, the vulnerable. It’s weird, and strange, and makes me feel uncomfortable as well as sad.

“You know,” he continues, the weight of his despair laden through his tone, “everyone thinks I made it because I was the rich kid. I didn’t. My dad swore that I wouldn’t see a penny of my trust if I went for this career. He kept true to his word. What I am now, I had to do myself. Sure, I inherited my share when Mom and Dad died, but before that, it was all me. But hey,” he says, pushing himself up off the chair, “it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Ryan.”

“No. It’s fine.”

“Ryan,” I say a little more firmly, wondering if what I’m going to say next means I have completely lost my freaking mind. “It’s a big decision. Let me think about it. Okay?”

His eyes are growing wider now, and he says, “I’ll make it worth your while, Emma. I swear. That hydro pool you were talking about earlier? We have one of those. I could get one for your clinic and for your mom.”

I clench my jaw at the fact that he overheard what I was saying to Sharon earlier. Not because I now think he’s bribing me with that, but because I’m pretty strict with my boundaries and don’t talk about my family to clients.

“Let me think about it,” I say again.

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