Page 1 of Faking It with my Hockey Crush

1

Ryan

I haven’t been backhere for years, but as my driver takes a left onto Main Street, I gaze out and notice that nothing has changed. Maple Springs is still the same old sleepy town I left behind. And when I say sleepy, I mean it’s snoring.

It’s one of those picture-postcard kinds of towns that tourists gush over. The thing is, there’s about as much action on the postcard as there is here in real life.

Nada. Zilch. Zero.

The snow is falling, and I look out at the few people making their way home at the end of the day. Even wrapped up in their winter coats, scarves, and woolly hats, they still lift their heads to look at the huge car.

I mean, it’s not every day a long black Lincoln drives through Maple Springs.

Ten minutes later, the Steele Estate comes into view. The estate my brother and I inherited from my parents after they were killed in a freak storm when they were on vacation. Thehouse—if you can call a gigantic mansion a house—sits on a hill just on the outskirts of the town, nestled against a backdrop of towering pine trees. The estate is so vast that we even have our own small lake.

But as beautiful as it all is, I’m not happy to be back here.

Apart from the fact that my brother hates my guts, I’m here to recuperate from an injury. I glance down at the cane beside me and heave a sigh. It’s hard to describe how frustrating it is to be injured when you’re a pro ice hockey player.

The game is my life, and nothing has been more important to me. Unfortunately, it’s a rough game and comes with its setbacks. Like broken bones and torn ligaments. There’s some other stuff going on, too. Stuff I’m trying to avoid. As sleepy as Maple Springs is, it’s also the perfect place to hide away from the voracious press.

We pull up to the huge wrought iron gates, and I give the driver the code to punch into the keypad. A minute later, the gates yawn open, ironically suiting this town perfectly.

The mansion has two large wings attached to the main building, and when we finally come to a stop outside the oversized front door, the driver jumps out and makes his way to the trunk.

At the front door, I’m met by Beatrice, the housekeeper. She’s been here since before I was born.

“Oh, Mr. Steele,” she gushes, her brow furrowing as she glances at my cane. “It’s so good to have you back home, even under such awful circumstances.”

“Thanks, Beatrice.”

John, one of the other staff members, arrives beside her and quickly lifts the case the driver left at the front door.

“Your room, Mr. Steele?” he asks perfunctorily. John speaks as few words as possible, or so I’ve found, anyway.

“Sure, John. Thanks.”

With a nod, he disappears, leaving Beatrice to lead me to the living room while reporting what she’s made for dinner. I limp beside her, smiling down at her, but I’m not really listening. I’m too busy readying myself to meet my abrasive brother.

“Dinner will be served in half an hour,” she says as I reach the living room door.

“Thanks, Beatrice.”

Stepping into the room, I see Thomas standing at the mantle, a glass in hand, staring into the fire.

“So, you finally found your way home,” he snarls without turning to look at me.

“Hello to you, too, Thomas. How’ve you been?” My reply is light, my tone laced with condescending sarcasm.

“Oh, you know”—he turns to look at me—“just running the estate and dealing with your mess. Life as usual.”

I chuckle mirthlessly as I slowly make my way over to the decanters that sit on a walnut dresser. “Well, at least it keeps you busy. Wouldn’t want you to get bored, being all alone in this great big mausoleum.”

“How could I possibly be bored, Ryan? The continuous phone calls from the media keep me more than occupied.”

“Hey,” I say. Now, my glass is half full of some sweet-smelling amber liquid. “It was taken out of context. You ought to know by now that those guys don’t play fair.”

“All I know is that I’m sick and tired of cleaning up your messes,” Thomas growled. “You were always a jerk, Ryan, but when you chose fame over family, you really let your true colors show.”

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