Page 38 of Faking It with my Hockey Crush

“Emma,” I say.

She looks up at me expectantly.

“I really am sorry for dragging you into this circus.”

She’s gazing up at me, her eyes softening, and for a moment, I forget about everything else: the cameras, the contracts, the expectations. All I can think about is her, standing beside me on this frozen lake, a trace of a smile tugging at her lips.

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to—”

But in that second, her legs wobble, her skates slip from under her, and panic washes over her face.

Automatically, I grab her, and balancing myself firmly on the ice, I pull her into my body. Her flailing arms have flung themselves around me, and we’re now only inches apart.

“Don’t let me go,” she whispers.

“Never,” I reply.

The air between us feels charged, as if one wrong move might break the moment. I want to say something, to put words to the strange feeling that seems to have taken root somewhere deep in my chest, but I don’t know where to start. More than that, I’m afraid.

When I know she’s stable, I help her to stand upright, and then I say, “Your nose is beginning to look like Rudolph’s. How about that coffee I promised you?”

14

Emma

Sitting at the breakfastbar, I gaze out of the window and watch the soft, light flakes of snow float down from the gray-streaked sky. But with my hands wrapped around a hot cup of coffee, I’m not really thinking about the snow. In fact, I’m hopelessly wishing the coffee will do something in the way of soothing the strange mix of nerves and warmth that has managed to settle itself in my chest.

The past few days with Ryan have chipped away at the barriers I’d carefully constructed. Not just the walls I built before I got myself into this contract, but old walls, with chipped bricks that have been there for years. A protection I put in place after it felt like my heart had been ripped from my chest in my teenage years.

But I shouldn’t be feeling anything. I mean, this arrangement was meant to be safe, right? An agreement with no expectations. In fact, it was me who drew up the contract stating that very thing.

But a few days ago, something changed for me. That moment on the ice, with my laughter fading and the gaze we shared after he had grabbed me and saved me from seriously hurting myself on the ice, was pivotal.

I could deny that anything happened, but I would only be lying to myself. And I definitely can’t deny this feeling that’s sitting in the pit of my stomach. Besides, what would be the point? The truth is that the dormant ache that has been quiet for so many years has returned, prickling at the edges of my carefully laid plans.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Swiftly pulled from my trancelike daydreaming, I nearly jump out of my skin. My heart thumps in my chest, and my head spins around to find Sharon standing at my kitchen doorway.

Sharon gives me a surprised look. “Did you forget I was coming?”

“What time is it?” I gasp, feeling like I’ve been woken with a start as my heart thumps against my chest.

“Nearly eleven,” she replies slowly, her frown now dancing.

Every fourth Saturday of the month, Sharon, Debs, and I go out for a girly afternoon of shopping and drinks. Most of the time, we don’t even buy anything, but it’s a chance for us to get out together, as well as head out of Maple Springs.

Littlefield is a place three towns over. Not only does it have a far bigger population than Maple Springs, but it’s also home to a fabulous mall. It’s there where we while hours away, gazing through windows and wondering whether $800 vases would look out of place in our living rooms.

Sharon looks more concerned as the seconds pass. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I lie, still trying to gather myself while forcing a small smile. “I just lost track of time. Lost in my own little world. Just sitting here relaxing.”

“Uh huh,” Sharon says knowingly.

Yes. You probably should have stopped at being “fine.”

As wonderful a friend as Sharon is, I instinctively feel a guard going up. I mean, how am I supposed to tell her what I’m feeling? After the show I put on when Ryan Steele walked through the doors of the clinic on that first day, I’m now going to look like a complete hypocrite.

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