Page 90 of Faking It with the Forward

“I explained everything that had been going on. Pete’s need for tighter and tighter wrapping. My warnings about mobility. I’d documented it in his file.” Her eyes are cast down and hands are shoved in the pockets of her hoodie. “I admitted that I’d been distracted by personal stuff for the past few weeks,” she finally looks up. “I didn’t tell him about you.”

“Oh.” I’m confused. “Why didn’t you tell him? That was the plan.”

“Because I proved him right. I wasn’t able to juggle my relationship with you and my obligations to the team. My advisor told me today that it was okay for us to date. There are no rules, but she also reminded me how important this position is to me. How it was imperative that I act professional if I want a good review and recommendation once I graduate.”

“No one is going to question your dedication to your internship, Twy.”

Her chin lifts. “Would you seriously consider staying together if I took focus away from your game? If it risked you getting drafted next year?”

“Maybe, but that isn’t a problem for me.” Fuck, I’ve been killing it in the preseason.

“But what if it was? Isn’t that why you broke up with Shanna? Your goals didn’t align?”

Shanna?“What are you saying?”

“Ourgoals don’t align, Reese. This program means everything to me. When I was in my darkest place being able to devote my time and energy to the sports training program is what got me through. When my dad died, it helped me find a place to belong. When Ethan pulled the rug out from under me, it’s where I found balance and strength.” She inhales. “I know you understand this. You give everything to your sport. To your dreams. You made hard decisions because you refuse to compromise.” She taps her chest. “Thisis my sport—just without the million-dollar paycheck and adoring crowds.”

I swallow. “What are you saying?”

“I’m being forced to choose,” her voice wobbles, “and it’s not you.”

She may as well have taken out a gun and fired a bullet in my heart. “You’re serious about this.”

“I’ve been clear from the beginning that my internship is my priority. It’s my future, Reese.”

Bam.Another round fired. “And you don’t see me as part of your future?”

A tear builds in her eye, but she brushes it away before it falls. “I’m sorry, I don’t.”

* * *

“What the fuck, Cain?”Kirby shouts. “That was a perfect pass!”

“You call that perfect?” I skate around the goal, eyes trained on Kirby. When I get close, I bump my shoulder into his—hard. “It was way outside. You need to work on your fucking accuracy.”

“It was right in the crease!” He shoves me back. “You go blind all of a sudden? Jerking off too much? Maybe it’s time you found a girl to fuck instead of your ha—”

Crack!

I see red, and twenty-one years of well-honed restraint goes down the drain in a split second. No, fuck that. It isn’t a split second. It’s four miserable days since Twyler dumped my ass and I’ve been spiraling ever since.

“Cain!” Coach Bryant shouts over the sound of the team dragging me and Kirby off one another. “Off the goddamn ice.”

“But Coach—”

“Don’t make me tell you twice, son.” He gives me a hard look, like he’s daring me to cross a line. I jerk my head in a nod and skate off the ice, throwing my stick over the board and yanking off my gloves. I’ve just tossed my helmet down the tunnel when I notice a familiar face sitting up in the stands.

Son of a bitch.

I drop down on a bench and unlace my skates, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. When I can’t avoid it any longer, I climb up the stairs, and meet him.

“Hey, Dad,” I rub the back of my sweaty neck, “how long have you been here?”

“Long enough.”

Jesus. It’s one thing to make an ass out of myself in front of the guys and Coach Bryant. But my dad? Shit. “Was this a planned visit?” I ask, nodding down at Coach. “Or did he call you?”

“I was on my way down for the alumni event. Ben suggested I stop by and watch practice.” His eyes track the play down on the ice. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

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