Page 9 of The Fake Out

I’m going to bodycheck this asshole so hard in practice.

“See you later, Hartley,” I say while staring McKinnon down.

During my training session, I’m only half listening, keeping my attention on Hartley and McKinnon on the other side of the gym, watching for conflict, watching her body language to make sure she’s okay.

I don’t trust that guy for a second.

CHAPTER4

HAZEL

To my extreme relief,I’m no longer attracted to Connor McKinnon.

He’s always been handsome, but it’s in an ugly way, I realize, like a villain fromGame of Thrones. Standing next to Rory, though, makes everyone less attractive.

My heart beats up into my throat as I run through the physio exercises with him, and I’ve never been more self-conscious.

If I’m rude to him, I’ll seem like the bitter, jaded ex. That’s exactly what I am, but I don’t want him to know that. My biggest fear is that he’ll know he had an effect on me.

If I’m too friendly, he’ll think I want to get back together. Another mess I don’t want to deal with.

So I’m treating him professionally, like I’d treat any other player, and internally freaking out. He lunges forward, staring at himself in the mirror. He’s not even watching his form; he’s just staring at his ugly-handsome face.

“Watch your knee,” I say as the joint caves in.

He adjusts and goes back to staring at himself with that stupid smirk.

He still hasn’t brought up the email he sent me this morning—Looking forward to our physio session. There’s something I’d like to say. Maybe he’s waiting until our session ends.

He’s going to apologize. What else could he want to say? I’m going to get the closure I need to leave the past behind. What he did and said was terrible, but if he feels remorse? That changes things.

In my mind, I hear the words he said to me in the middle of that party while he had his arm around another girl.

I never said we were exclusive. You did.

I’m bored.

Girls like you don’t end up with guys like me.

I drag in a deep breath to quell the nausea. It was years ago. I’m not that girl anymore, the one who dissolved into her boyfriend’s life.

Glancing over to where Rory’s working with his trainer, I meet his eyes. He arches a brow at me as if to sayeverything okay?but I turn away.

Rory doesn’t care about anyone but himself, so I don’t know why he’s so hell-bent on helping. I’ve watched how easily he can break a girl’s heart.

As he completes the exercises, Connor winces and shifts his thigh back and forth, and I get a flash of unwelcome memory of massaging that muscle years ago. He’s had groin problems ever since he suffered an injury in our first year at university.

“Do we have time for you to give me a massage?” he asks. “My groin is sore from sitting on a plane all day yesterday.”

It takes all my effort not to show my revulsion.

Massage therapy is a normal part of my job. If he were any other player, I wouldn’t hesitate. These guys get the crap beat out of them on the ice, and I want to do anything I can to help them feel better and play longer.

This is Connor, though. I don’t want to breathe the same air as him, let alone touch him, but if I treat him differently than other clients, that will mean he’s gotten to me.

Just get through this, I tell myself.

“We still have a few minutes. I’ll work on it,” I tell him, gesturing to one of the tables on the side of the gym for the physios and massage therapists.

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