Page 32 of Fake Skating

“Yeah,” I said, shaking my head. “He had a Cayenne last year but drove it into a light pole.”

“Figures,” Mick said in disgust. “Fuckin’ idiot.”

“Right?” I agreed.

“Listen—I’m going to be honest with you,” he said, tilting his head and looking at me like I was a bug. “I don’t like you dating her.”

“You don’t.” I didn’t know why, but that mattered to me. Even though it was a fake relationship, there was something about knowing someone you respected thought you were a piece of shit that felt… well, really shitty.

“No, I don’t. Not at all. Dani and her mom have spent the past seventeen years with a manipulative little pecker. I look at her and I don’t even see a spark of the kid I used to know.”

I don’t know what I’d expected, but it wasn’t this .

Mick was looking out the window, sounding more like he was talking to himself than me as he said, “Every once in a while she gives me sass and I wanna fucking cheer because it’s so good to see, but I know she doesn’t want that.

And she shouldn’t want that, because—well, it doesn’t matter, but she’s right to be mad at me, but my point is that I want her to figure out who she is and find her voice without some guy in her way. ”

“I—I don’t want to be in her way,” I said, rolling my eyes at myself when my voice cracked like I was a nervous middle schooler. “I want the same thing you do, I promise. And I hate the colonel too.”

“You do?” Mick said, looking surprised.

“God, yes, but it doesn’t matter because Dani still worships him,” I said, realizing the second the words left my mouth that that was probably an overshare.

Dani would probably be super pissed if she overheard me saying that.

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “She won’t hear a single critical word about him, but he’s her dad, so I have to respect that.”

“Even after he called her the other night and made her so upset that I found her crying in the locker room, she still defended him.”

“Did she say what he did? To make her cry?”

I shook my head. “No, but I didn’t really have a chance to talk to her.”

He grunted and went back to looking at me like he was trying to figure out where he was going to bury my body after he killed me.

So I said, “Mr. Boche, I don’t want to be on your bad side. I just really like your granddaughter, that’s all.”

“Well, you’re allowed to like her,” he said, crossing his arms. “Just knock off the handsy shit and let her breathe.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding, because odds were good there wasn’t going to be any more handsy shit regardless. I still wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to let me kiss her in the first place, but I was positive that after this, I wasn’t going to get the chance to finish what we’d barely started.

“By the way, what are you doing about that shoulder?” he asked.

“What?” I said it a little too loudly, but he was looking at me like he knew everything, and there was no way that he could.

“I see the way you drop it when you’re tired, the way you rub it sometimes when you’re talking. Your shoulder’s fucked up, isn’t it?”

His words made my blood run cold, because what the fuck was that? I drop my shoulder when I’m tired?

Was this something people other than Mick might’ve noticed? Shit, had scouts noticed?

Shit, shit, shit. I couldn’t let anyone think I was injured.

“No,” I said, shaking my head and making a face like he was nuts. “Bruised as hell from when I got checked last week, but I’m—”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Spare me the bullshit—it’s your body, not mine. How are you feeling about the game tomorrow?”

I shrugged because this was all over the place and also, I never knew how to answer that question. I always felt like we were going to win, even when we lost.

“We’re going to win,” I said.

“Yeah, probably,” he agreed, then pointed his thumb at the door. “Go home now.”

I nearly leapt out of the chair because I was so damn happy to be leaving without being skinned first. If I could’ve sprinted to the door and out to my car, I would’ve.

But when I got to the door, I stopped and looked back, because I felt like I had to say something. “Mr. Boche?”

“Mick,” he corrected.

Mick?

I said, “Thanks, uh, thanks for not killing me.”

“No problem,” he said, and I swear to God he sort of smiled. “If you accidentally tap the Maserati next door with that piece of shit you drive, by the way, I didn’t see a damn thing.”

“Noted,” I said, and then I left, getting the hell out of Dodge.

When I finally looked at my phone after getting home, I had multiple texts from Dani.

Dani: Are you okay?

Dani: I’m so sorry.

Dani: What did he say?

Dani: Please send me proof of life.

I took a selfie, then sent: I’m fine and he was actually pretty cool. He just wanted to make sure I wasn’t being a dick to you.

I thought about what he’d said about her. It was interesting, the way she always assumed he was an old jerk when in all actuality, it seemed like he’d missed her and was worried about her.

Like he was trying to help her.

I texted: This might sound crazy, but I think he’s trying to fix things with you.

Dani: How is he doing that exactly? By grunting a lot in my presence?

I could see how she could miss it. The old guy was shit at communicating. But as much as I wanted to help Mick out a bit, I needed to cover the kiss immediately .

I texted: So… subject change.

Dani: Yes…?

Me: About that other thing that happened in your driveway.

Dani: What other thing?

Okay, so she clearly didn’t want to discuss it. And yet all I could do was think about it.

Me: Fair enough. See you tomorrow.

She didn’t respond, but just as I plugged my phone into the charger and switched off the lamp, my phone buzzed.

Dani: My grandpa just came into my room and told me to tell you to ice the shoulder before you go to bed, even if you’re too tired.

I stared at the message in disbelief. I wasn’t sure why it made my throat feel a little tight, and I had no fucking idea why it made me feel a thousand times more exhausted.

I texted: Tell him thanks.

And then I went downstairs and got some ice.