Page 66 of Rule 3: Never Fake Marry the Coach's Son

Who was my dad?

“Is your mother still part of your life?” Oskar’s mother asks carefully.

“She passed away. But I still have cousins.”

“I’m sorry,” Oskar’s mother says, and maybe my emotions weren’t as masked as I thought.

“Overdose. It happens all over the world. Is not her fault,” I say, because I don’t want Oskar’s mother to think badly about her. I don’t want her to pity me. “She had me young. Her parents were not happy. They suddenly had another child to take care of and the apartment was tiny.”

“Skating must have been important to you,” Oskar’s mother says, changing the subject.

“I was lucky I was good at it.” I swallow hard, imagining for a moment if I hadn’t been. After all, I’m not good at anything else. “I was sent from my family when I was ten. Was better there.”

“They’re pretty strict in Russia,” Coach says, eying me. “You were Olivia’s age.”

“Was better than home,” I say.

“This is boring,” Olivia whines. “Russia, Russia, Russia.”

“I feel the same way.”

“How did you know that Oskar was the one?” Linnea asks, clasping her hands together and leaning forward.

Coach’s gaze narrows. I glance at Oskar’s mother, who gives me an encouraging smile. She seems to be really inviting me into the family. I thought she’d be suspicious and protective like Coach, but instead she acts like she’s been waiting for Oskar and me to get together.

Oskar and I are friends. That’s all. But is there another world where we could have been more? Where I could have seen him and decided I didn’t just want friendship, but something deeper? Where I didn’t just want to spend evenings watching whatever we watch, but wanted to spend them holding him and kissing him and more.

The man is fucking adorable.

Of course, I’m straight, so that world doesn’t exist.

That world is for some gay hockey player who met Oskar.

But Finn said he didn’t think he would ever be with a guy before he met Noah, that the idea had never occurred to him, and look at him now.

“Don’t bother Dmitri,” Oskar says, and I realize that maybe I should have answered his sisters.

“We met after a hockey game,” I say finally.

“That doesn’t sound romantic,” Olivia says, her brow furrowed in just the same manner that Coach furrows his brow during practice when he’s trying to impart some guidance to us and we’re not quite getting it.

“Guess we have a boring romance,” I say, squeezing Oskar’s hand.

“You forget that Dmitri looks very good in hockey clothes,” Oskar says. “And he’s an excellent skater.”

Olivia still looks skeptical, but Linnea nods her head.

“He’s super hot,” Linnea agrees.

“Oskar is hot too,” I say.

Oskar’s eyebrows shoot up like he didn’t expect that. I frown.

The thing is, I’m right. Of course, I’m right.

“He’s smaller than me,” I say, “but that’s cute. Everything about Oskar is adorable. Compact, but definitely hot.”

I take his hand in mine and meet his eyes. “Didn’t you know that?”