Page 55 of Test the Ice
Emory reaches down and pulls me up by the collar of my practice jersey. “I’m not giving you mouth to mouth.”
I try to chuckle, but I come up short.
One of our trainers comes over wearing a grave look. “Tell me you’re not injured.”
Coach growls, “He better not be.”
“He’s fine.” Emory sits back on the bench. “Just got the wind knocked out of him.”
I nod and hold my hand up. My teammates head for the locker room, bypassing me off to the side. I’m back to normal by the time the ice clears, my breathing less strained and my lungs loose. I glance at my surroundings, making sure no one is too close to eavesdrop–though I think I may be the only one on the team that really cares to do that. I lean my elbows on the edge of the wall.
“How did it work with you and Scottie? When you two were fake married?” I ask.
Emory’s jaw flickers. “We weren’t fake married.” It’s apparent by his tone that he’s annoyed I’m even bringing this up.
Sure, they’re still married, and it’s nothing less than real. But at first, it was out of total convenience. I think he may have even hated her at first.
I quickly try to rectify his rising irritation. “Let me rephrase. How did it work with you and Scottie when you were still in the early stages of your blossoming love story?”
If looks could kill.
“Why?” Emory’s glare remains, but I’ve definitely garnered his attention.
Slipping further off to the side, I move and sit on the bench beside him to start removing my blades.
“I’m fake engaged.”
Emory snickers. “You’re fucked.”
My leg starts to bounce up and down with sudden jitters. “Thank you for your support.”
“Wait, you’re being serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
Emory’s head tips backward, and he sighs loudly. “Why on earth would you enter a fake engagement? You know my reasoning for marrying Scottie and how I paid her because she needed the money, so what’s yours? Boredom? Jealous that all your friends are in relationships?”
“Maybe.” I shrug.
Emory stands, and my leg suddenly stills.
“Break it off before it blows up in your face,” he says.
“It’s complicated,” I blurt, hoping he’ll sit back down and give me some real advice. “I offered to help her in a shitty situation, and now we’re kind of stuck.”
Stuck isn’t the correct word. I don’t feel stuck, but I didn’t really have a choice after I found out the whole story.
Emory’s lip lifts slightly, just enough for me to question if he’s smiling or not. “Okay, so what do you want to know?”
I huff. “I don’t know. Like, how did you two make it look real?” I bite the inside of my cheek as I think back to Reese’s boundaries. “Did you two practice?”
Emory’s loud laugh echoes around the empty rink. “Practice what exactly?”
“You know…” He knows what I’m referring to, but nonetheless. “Acting like you two were in love.”
Emory looks off in the distance, and his head tilts. “Not intentionally. We were forced to act like we were in love in front of the cameras, and then…it just kind of happened.” He looks at me. “Who are you two trying to fool?”
My leg starts shaking again. “Her ex…?"Charleigh's father?
