Page 21 of Faking It with my Hockey Crush

“It’s none of your business,” I spit, squaring my shoulders as I turn to face him.

“None of my business?!” he shouts. “You’re planning to con Emma Carter into marrying you, and it’s none of my business? Are you out of your mind?”

“It’s not like that,” I roar back.

“It’s exactly like that. You ruin everything else in your life, and now you come back here and want to ruin someone else’s. Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” I snarl.

“Oh, be quiet.” He jerks his head at my cane. “You can’t even walk right.”

“I can walk away from you,” I say, doing my best to storm away with a painful limp.

As I continue up the stairs, Thomas’s voice bellows around the hall.

“It’s not going to happen, Ryan. Rest assured; I won’t let it. She deserves far better than the likes of you. Stay away from her.”

He’s still ranting as I continue down the corridor. I’m only grateful I’m sleeping in the far wing because when I slam my bedroom door, the sound of his voice finally disappears.

8

Emma

For the rest ofthe day, I can’t concentrate on anything. I get my clients’ names mixed up, I use the wrong equipment, I forget a password I use to access my clients’ notes. It’s a disaster. A disaster that does not go unnoticed by Sharon.

“What’s going on?” she asks, about an hour before the day is over. “You’ve been all over the place today.” She looks up at me worriedly from behind the desk. “Have you gotten bad news? Has something happened?”

It takes me a minute to think of what I want to tell her, and then I realize she’s one of my closest friends and might actually be able to help.

“Are you doing anything this evening?” I ask.

She frowns and shrugs. “I have a date with the TV and my cat,” she jokes.

“I need help. Do you think you can come over later?”

Sharon is now frowning in concern, but being the solid friend she is, she nods. “Of course.”

She doesn’t ask why I need her. She doesn’t press to find out my problem. She’s just there for me.

“Thanks, Sharon.”

Things don’t go any better after that, and when the clock hits five, I couldn’t be more relieved that the day is finally over.

“What time do you want me to come over?” Sharon asks as we lock up.

“About seven,” I reply. “I’m calling Debs, too. I’m going to need you both.”

She frowns at me again and then says, “Okay. See you later.”

When Sharon arrives later, Debs is already here, and they give each other a hug. The three of us have a tightly knit friendship, like our own little club where no one else is invited.

“So, come on. Spill,” Debs says. “Why are we here?”

Unlike me and Sharon, Debs thrives on excitement and chaos. She was always the more outgoing when we were kids, usually getting us into all sorts of trouble with our parents. If it was dangerous or not allowed, Debs would want to do it. I suppose you might call her a rebel.

Even now, as she sits here with her black ripped jeans, black vest top, pierced nose, and short spiky hair, her personality hasn’t changed at all. She loves extreme sports, like skydiving, and convinced me and Sharon on one occasion that we should try it, too.

Never again. I’ve never been so terrified in my life. Well, apart from maybe now.

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