Page 55 of Faking It with my Hockey Crush

“I know this isn’t what you signed up for,” he breathes. “This was meant to be fake. And at the start, it was, Emma. I promise you that. But something has changed between us. I know you feel it, too.”

I nod a little, pinned under the intensity of his words.

“I’ve been an ass. Okay. I can admit that. But you have made me want to be better. I’m a better man because of you.”

My eyebrows hitch on my forehead.

“You have this calm, sweet serenity about you that settles me,” he continues, “puts me at ease, lets me be myself. I don’t need to wear a mask with you, Emma. You’ve seen the true me, and you still want to be around me.”

“What makes you think others don’t?” I ask.

He sighs. “You’ve seen what it’s like out there. They’re vultures, ready to pounce on your every mistake. Besides, then there’s the money. I don’t even know if they want the real me, or care who I truly am. But you...” He tilts his head and softens his eyes. “You’re none of those things. It kinda works in my favor that you hated me at the beginning.”

“I didn’t hate you,” I reply.

“Sure, you did. And after what I did to you, you have every right to.”

I lift my hand to his face to get his attention. “I didn’t hate you,” I repeat.

He lifts his hand and presses it against mine. His eyes are searching my face, looking for any sign of untruth, but we both know he won’t find any. I haven’t lied to him yet, and I don’t need to now.

“Tell me what you did feel, then,” he says.

I sigh, dropping my hand, trying to figure out how to put what I felt into words. I didn’t hate him, but I had no love for him, either. Let’s face it, carrying a cross of such magnitude for so many years leaves one with a chip on one’s shoulder. Or was it a splinter? Who knows? Either way, it’s only recently that I’ve been able to put that cross down, and the impression from the weight of it is only now smoothing out.

“I disliked you,” I say, trying to be honest without hurting his feelings.

He smirks knowingly. “You can do better than that, Emma. Come on. My skin isn’t that thin.”

“Fine,” I say, though I can feel my face begin to redden at what I’m going to say. “I thought you were an arrogant pig who always got his way. I also thought you were childish and had never grown up.”

Ryan’s beaming smile turns into a hearty chuckle at both my words and my obvious discomfort. “Don’t pull your punches, there, Tyson.”

“You asked,” I protest.

“Yes, I did. And I’m glad. I’m also glad you can be honest with me.”

“I’ve never been anything else,” I quip back.

“I remember. Sending me out of your clinic with my tail between my legs. I’ll bet that felt good, though, right?” He grins.

The smile that’s dancing at the corner of my mouth suddenly blossoms, and I grin back. “Yes, actually. It did.”

“I knew it,” he laughs.

My smile settles a little, though, and I say, “But I was wrong. I didn’t know you. I’d just held on to who I knew you were ten years before.”

He shrugs. “Maybe partly wrong. I don’t always get my own way, even though I try.” He grins again.

I shake my head. “You’re incorrigible.”

His eyebrows hitch. “That’s a big word for this time of the evening. Did you learn that one from Bernard?” He nods to the book in my lap.

“I’ll have you know; I have a rather extensive vocabulary.”

“In English,” he quips back, his eyes alive with delight.

I roll my eyes. “Well, yes, we can’t all speak Italian.”

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