Page 28 of Fake Skating

I thought about her all the way to the arena.

Even with headphones on and my Pregame Calm playlist sending me chill shit like “The Black Dog” and “In the Kitchen,” I couldn’t shake the image of her big brown eyes blinking up at me from point-blank range.

This was going to be tougher than I thought.

I mean, I could handle it, but fuck . As much as I didn’t want to accept it, the truth was that there was still a part of me that saw her the way I’d always seen her.

The guys gave me shit the second she left us alone, because apparently I looked like a “lovesick little bitch” when I was around her, which made me defensive for a half second before I remembered that was how I wanted to look.

The clouds parted because, oh yeah— it was all an act.

She was playing her part, and I was playing mine.

Boom—no worries.

I swallowed down a few ibuprofen when I got to the locker room, then rubbed a shit ton of Icy Hot into my shoulder before suiting up.

And then everything else disappeared.

It didn’t make sense, really, that when I wasn’t playing hockey, I spent every waking minute stressing about it. The banners, the articles, the recognition—it all just reminded me that I was going to let down a lot of people if I wasn’t the best.

If I wasn’t better than the best.

I mean, I’d gotten a text from my agent already that afternoon, just checking in to see how things were going and to wish me luck for the game.

And to remind me that a couple of scouts were going to be there.

Forgetting was impossible.

Especially when there wasn’t just my post–high school career and everything that came with it to worry about, but also Southview—like, the town itself. The Packers had gone to the tournament more times than any other school in Minnesota, yet we’d never brought home the title.

There was no championship banner hanging from the Doug’s rafters, no championship trophy sitting on a glass shelf in one of the Doug’s trophy cases.

We’d made it to the finals last year but lost to St. John’s Academy (and fucking Ben Worthington), so even though I scored a goal at the Xcel Energy Center, it was the worst game of my life.

Because we’d come so damn close.

I’d cried like a fucking baby afterward, swear to God.

And now it was my senior year and I was playing the best hockey of my life. It was cool that the entire town was insanely supportive, but it also felt like everyone was counting on me to finally make it happen.

To lead the team to the historic thing that’d never been done before.

It kept me awake (when my shoulder wasn’t already keeping me awake) more nights than it didn’t.

But the second my skates connected with the ice—praise Jesus—all of that disappeared.

I forgot about pressure, pain, and curly blondes with brown eyes. My brain pressed pause on everything that wasn’t connected to my skates, my stick, the puck, and the ice in front of me.

“What the fuck is this I hear about you and Boche’s granddaughter?” Kyle said as I skated past him during warm-ups.

Fuck.

He was always lazy until game time, yapping about random shit, but I needed to get in some good laps before we stretched and didn’t need him messing with my focus.

“If you can catch me, I’ll tell you,” I said, knowing I was safe from having to discuss Dani, because he wasn’t even going to try. I cleared my head of everything, and from the second the puck dropped that night, we were fucking on fire.

I got lucky from the jump with a rim around the boards that led to a turnover behind the goal line. Kyle got the puck with space behind the net and wrapped it around the right post into the low slot to Richie, who got enough on his shot to get the puck past their goalie.

It felt slick and easy, one minute in, and we never let up.

Everything worked that night, and we fucking destroyed them.

After the bus brought us back, I stopped by the team offices to see Kuhn—one of the assistant coaches—and get his okay on Dani being a team manager. I dropped it casually, like Are you cool with a new kid helping Cassie? and he—of course—agreed.

I mean, I wasn’t an idiot.

Going to Coach Oz, after what he thought he’d walked in on the day before, would’ve been a terrible idea.

“He was cool with it?” Richie asked as we walked to my car.

“Yeah,” I said, a little surprised myself.

“I mean, she’s Boche’s granddaughter,” Vinny said, “Of course he’s gonna be cool with it. You really think he wants Mick kicking his ass for turning her down?”

“Boche’s not going to kick anyone’s ass,” Richie said. “Probably.”

“Of course he isn’t,” I said, although the old enforcer wascrazy intimidating.

After dropping off the guys and wolfing down some leftover meat loaf that was in the fridge, I went up to my room to get started on my homework since I needed to stay on top of my shit now more than ever. My parents weren’t home yet, which I didn’t hate because I could use a little quiet.

But first I needed to text Dani and make sure we were all good. I flopped onto my mattress and stretched out, then decided to hit the FaceTime button instead.

She answered on the second ring.

“What are you doing?” she asked as the call connected, her eyebrows down behind those big glasses. “Don’t you know it’s considered a breach of etiquette to assume the FaceTime call without asking first?”

It looked like she was also sitting on her bed, because there was a white headboard behind her.

“My bad,” I said, rolling over onto my good side. “I just thought talking would be easier than texting to let you know that you’re in as manager. So tomorrow just check with Cass on where you should go and what you should do at practice.”

“What did he say?” she asked, her eyes wide. “The coach was fine with it after… y’know…”

That made me want to laugh, the way she looked too innocent to finish the sentence, even though nothing had been going on. “He’s fine with it.”

“Oh, thank God,” she said, putting a hand on her chest and looking so relieved that I almost felt guilty. “So I’m officially one of the team managers.”

“You are.” I cleared my throat and said, “Hockey manager and my, uh, not sure what to call you… person of interest …?”

“Sounds like I’m being investigated by the feds,” she said.

“Lover?”

“Gross.”

I heard the slam of the door downstairs, so either my parents were home or my grandma was back with the twins.

“My boo?” I suggested.

She sighed but I could tell she wanted to smile. “How about the brilliant girl you’re suddenly obsessed with?”

“That doesn’t sound right,” I said, and then she did smile. “You can’t be brilliant and mistake Kronwall for cornball.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” she said with a shitty little smirk.

“You knew it was Kronwall and just wanted to annoy Mick,” I said.

She coughed out a laugh. “Little bit.”

“What’s it like so far, living with him?”

She shrugged. “He doesn’t really talk to me. He barks out random questions and statements when we happen to cross paths, but that’s pretty much it.”

“What a game—ooh, sorry,” my dad said from the doorway, putting up a hand when he saw the phone.

I didn’t know if she was ready for a public outing with our parents, but what the hell? Might as well start ruffling our family’s feathers with the shock of this. I watched her face as I sat up and said to my dad, “No worries—it’s Dani.”

She looked back at me and I saw her register who I was talking to, and then she tilted her head and gave me a little squint, like she knew exactly what I was doing.

“Danigirl!” my dad said, gesturing for me to hold up the phone. He fucking loved her, so this was going to be interesting. “How’s it goin’, kiddo? You like it so far? Is Al showing you everything you need to know about being a Packer?”

“Well,” she said, smiling in that way that told me she was up for the challenge, “I actually thought he was avoiding me when I first got here, but suddenly he has become incredibly helpful.”

“Has he now?” my dad said.

“Also, John—what happened to your squishy little son? I mean, not that I’m complaining,” she said, “but he has definitely changed.”

That made my dad throw his head back and laugh, which was still my favorite sound.

It was weird how tragedy could do that to you.

My dad had been fine(ish) for a long time now, but after everything, I still cherished his loud-as-hell laugh, because we’d almost lost it forever.

“Yeah, he grew and then suddenly he became less klutzy—go figure,” my dad said.

“Did he tell you that I’m going to be a hockey team manager?” she asked.

“Oh yeah? I thought you didn’t know anything about hockey,” he said, giving me a confused look.

“Oh, I don’t, but it seems to me like when your boy wants something, he somehow manages to make it happen.”

Good Lord, she is good.

She was dripping little bits of flirtation without blatantly saying that things might be progressing past friendship.

“So I guess I’m going to have to learn all about it now,” she said.

“I’ll teach you,” my dad said, which I knew he’d love. “Come over anytime and I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You should come over right now, Collins.”

Something about the way she looked embarrassed when I said that, the way her cheeks got a little bit pink, made me smile in spite of my exhaustion.

“I’m pretty sure you have studying to do, Barczewski,” she said in a perfect tease. “By the way—my mom said she was going somewhere called the Crow to celebrate her new job and it’s been hours and she still isn’t back—should I be worried?”

“Nah, she was with us,” my dad said. “We stopped by after the game.”

“I’m assuming the Crow is a bar?” she asked.

“The Croatian Social Hall,” I said. “The Cro.”

“Oh,” she said, looking no less confused and distracting me with the way she was blinking fast.

She had the coolest fucking eyes.

“It’s basically a bar,” I added, clearing my throat and my mind. “That everyone goes to.”

“Got it. Listen, I should probably go study,” she said, smiling at my dad. “But am I going to see you and Sarah soon? Will you guys be at the next game?”

“They’re my parents, Collins,” I said. “Of course they’ll be there.”

“I was talking to your father, not you,” she said adorably.

“Yeah, we’ll be there. And you missed a helluva game earlier; Al really had his legs moving tonight, holy moly.”

That made her eyes land on me as she smirked. “He brought both of them, did he?”

My dad laughed again and went off, describing the game, completely oblivious to the fact that she had no idea what he was saying.

She tilted her head and that smirk slid into a grin. “So… you scored?”

My dad lost it, howling as he told Dani she needed to get her ass over to the house soon so he could teach her about hockey.

“I will, I promise,” she said. “Al, are you picking me up for school on Monday?”

I hadn’t been planning on it, we hadn’t discussed it at all, and something about the way she was looking at me told me she knew that.

“Of course I am,” I said, slowly shaking my head because she was a little shit.

“I’ll have him bring some deer sticks,” my dad said. “And some of El’s cinnamon rolls.”

“That would be great. See you then, Zeussy,” she said with a big grin, and I laughed because she’d obviously tricked me. I’d made a deal with a harmless shy girl, not this mouthy version of classic Dani.

“I love that kid,” my dad said after the call was disconnected. “So she’s gonna be a manager, huh? Where the hell did this come from?”

I told him about the Harvard thing, and he said, “Well, I’m glad you were able to help her. She’s a good kid and it sounds like she went through some shit, so hopefully Southview’s a great place for her to land.”

“What sort of shit?” I asked. “Besides the divorce.”

“I think it was just typical mean-girl stuff in junior high,” he said. “But it sounds like it left her a little on the skittish side. God, I’d love to slap whoever messed with Danigirl. She seems fine now, though.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, thinking that that tracked with how suspicious she seemed of me and my friends.

The doorbell rang at that moment and my dad gave me a look. “Sounds like Grandma’s here with the twins, so close your door if you expect to get any studying done.”

“Good call,” I said, and watched my dad wince as he turned to walk out of my room.

He was so good at living through the pain that sometimes I actually forgot about the accident, which was insane, because it’d blown our world apart.

But then little facial expressions like that reminded me.

Of the call: They said the semi T-boned your dad’s truck.

He’d had a ruptured spleen, internal bleeding, swelling on the brain—and those were just the things the doctors told us could kill him. He’d also had a broken back, broken femur, broken wrist, and four broken ribs, but those were almost cosmetic compared to the critical injuries.

He’d been more smashed up than not.

So the man who winced today was a walking miracle.

He was also a walking reminder that Dani had disappeared during the time I’d needed her the most. When my world fell apart.

It was a sobering thought when I was still so fucking drunk on her damn smile.