Page 100 of False Play
The phone rang twice, and Kennedy croaked, “Hello?”
“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry. Go back to bed.”
She centered the camera, letting me get a good look at her. She was devoid of makeup, and her curly hair was braided, allowing me to see her face and how those ridiculously cute freckles popped against her brown skin.
My heart tightened at the sight of her. She wasso fucking stunning, it physically hurt.
“No. You’re fine. I’m on the couch watching TV while Sush is crushing me with his weight.” She angled her phone to show me where the cat was curled up, sleeping peacefully. She angled the camera back to her face and rolled her eyes. “You’ve been giving him way too many treats, by the way. He’s fat.”
“I want him to like me.”
“You can try to buy his love with all the treats you want, but I will still be his favorite human,” she quipped.
She wasn’t wrong. Those two had become an inseparable duo since she moved in.
I gave her a small smile without a word. My head was starting to clear, and my mood was significantly improving with every moment we spent on the phone.
“So, why did you call me?” She asked.
“Honestly?”
She gave me a knowing smile. “Always.”
“I had a rough night, and I wanted to see you and hear yourvoice.” I let out a long, shaky sigh. I didn’t know why I was nervous. “I miss you.” The confession had been lodged on my throat for days now. Relief washed through me when I finally said it out loud.
We had been on the road for almost a week, and there wasn’t one night I hadn’t thought about Kennedy. I was too afraid to call her. I still didn’t know where we stood, but something had shifted between us. But I also didn’t want to overwhelm her. I mean, she had just come off a three-year engagement, and here I was, eager to get more from her even though I didn’t know if she was in the right headspace for it.
Every fucking night, my thumb hovered over her contact, and every night, I went to bed with regret that I hadn’t called her. And even though I was a few hours away from seeing her, I couldn’t hold back any longer.
Was that pathetic? Maybe. But I was past caring.
“Wanna talk about what’s going on with you?” she asked softly.
“Not really,” I whispered.
She hummed. “I know I said this already, but I’m sorry about the game. I’ll see if I can put in a good word for you with Coach Sloane. You deserve to be back on the ice.”
My heart swelled with pride. “You mean that?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “I do.”
We fell silent as we stared at each other for a few seconds. My heart wanted to come out of my chest as I looked at her. I was pathetically so far gone for this woman, it wasn’t funny. I wanted to hang out with her. I wanted toactuallydate her. Like,make-her-my-real-girlfriendtype of dating.
“Henry?”
“Yeah, Kenny baby?” I rasped.
Her brown eyes sparkled. “For the record, I miss you, too,” she whispered.
You know those moments in rom-com movies? The ones where time stands still when something significant happens?Thiswas one of those. Every beat of my heart was loud in my ears, my skin felt like little lights were being turned on, jolting with so much electricity, my body wasn’t my own anymore. My brain etched this moment to memory like it was carving it into stone.
Something fearless took hold of me as I blurted, “Would you like to go on a date with me when I get back?”A real date. It’s what I really wanted to say, but I was too afraid.
She smiled. “Sure. We haven’t had one in a minute. I kind of miss those fake dates.”
My eyes twitched. A word had never tasted so bitter just from the fucking sound of it. Though it annoyed me, I was determined to play pretend if it meant I got to spend time with her.
TWENTY-SIX
