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I won’t complain—I love the challenge of being busy. The only trouble is that all this work is making it much more difficult to accidentally on purpose run into my fake boyfriend.
“I just got the weirdest text from Nathan. Are you sitting near him? Is he okay?” “He’s not here,” Parker says. “He has the flu.” “What?” I stand up and start pacing around my living room. “You didn’t know?” “I haven’t heard from him. Not until just now.” “He must really be feeling awful if he isn’t even texting you,” Parker says. Except he did just text me. And he clearly needs my help.
I hear a soft groan from inside, which finally gives me the courage to nudge open the door. My heart sinks when I finally see him. Nathan is curled up on the floor in front of his shower. His head and shoulders are on a bathmat, but the rest of him is on the cold, tile floor. At least he’s dressed, wearing a t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms.
“Unless his fever is really high, like 105 high, he’s probably just dehydrated,” Lucy says as I go. “I’d just clean him up, give him a Liquid IV, then see if you can get some Tylenol in him to break the fever. If the fever doesn’t break, or he can’t keep liquids down, you might need to take him to the ER.”
He relaxes a little more, and I flex my quads, pushing through my feet. Back in my college days, I could easily squat over two hundred pounds, but Nathan feels ten times heavier than that.
“I don’t…want you to go,” he says, and my hand stills. “I just…think you should go because of how much I want you to stay.”
I’m not sure if it was the spray of the water or the feel of Summer’s hands moving across my scalp, but at least for the moment, my head is clear. I don’t remember texting Summer, but I don’t remember much about the last two hours.
Finally, after several more minutes, she slides my hair to one side and leans down, her hands on my shoulders as she presses a lingering kiss to the curve of my neck. We’ve kissed a few times now, but always in front of a crowd. Always when there’s a purpose, some reason bigger than just the two of us. But something about this tender gesture hits like a bolt of lightning right to my heart.
I haven’t let myself imagine what it might feel like to love her. But Summer is cracking me open, and now I can’t stop the thoughts.
Instead, I reach up and catch Summer’s hand, pulling it to my lips. I kiss the side of her wrist, then the knuckle above her thumb. I press the back of her hand against my cheek. “Thank you,” I say softly, lifting my gaze to meet hers. Her hair is damp, and her cheeks are flushed, and I’m pretty sure she’s never looked more beautiful.
But then, I have a sneaking suspicion my favorite place might actually be anywhere Summer happens to be.
“I like that about you,” I say. “But I might not be the best judge.” “Yeah? Why is that?” “Because I like everything about you.”
His father’s Stanley Cup ring is on the bathroom counter next to the sink, and I pick it up, hating the reminder of Nathan’s opposition to relationships. I half wonder if this has something to do with his impersonal home—like he’s averse to creating any kind of life off the ice. In a way, it’s weirdly noble.
It was more just…the touch. The act of washing his hair. His complete vulnerability. He couldn’t even sit up all the way without leaning against me. He wasn’t making a move or trying to be close, he just needed me. And I really liked being needed.
“I think he feels something,” I say. “Tonight, when I first showed up, he kept telling me to leave, saying he didn’t want my help. Finally, he admitted that it was only because of how much he wanted me to stay.” Lucy groans. “Summer! That doesn’t make me feel better about this.” “Why? I thought it was really sweet.” “Sure,” Lucy says. “It’s also conflicted. Does this man have any idea what he actually wants?”
I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I may hate what my sister is saying, but I recognize the truth in her words. “You sound like me.” She lets out a little laugh. “Well, someone has to, because you sound like me.” “But that’s a good thing, right? You’re always telling me to trust my heart.” “And you’re always telling me not to abandon all reason,” she says.
“Good,” Lucy says. “I could use a dose of grounded, logical Summer. Find her quick, please.” I sit up, not loving the sudden uncertainty in Lucy’s voice. “Lucy. What did you do?” “Oh, nothing,” she says. “Except, maybe agree to have dinner with the new attending.” “The Dr. McDreamy one? I thought you said he was married with twelve kids.” “Not married,” she says. “Divorced. But no kids.”
You always know what to expect. You know what the game promises, and if you play by the rules, it always delivers.”
He lifts a hand, tracing his fingers across my forehead before tucking my hair behind my ear. He keeps his hand on my face, his thumb sliding over to the corner of my bottom lip. “I like you in my shirt.” His voice is low, his molten tone lighting my skin on fire. I breathe out a shaky sigh of laughter. “Nathan Sanders, if you were not so sick right now, I would…”
But having her with me, close to me, occupying my space, it felt good. Even better than having teammates. Over and over again, Summer has positioned herself as my ally—my partner. And not just because of our fake relationship. She’s shown up in ways that don’t have anything to do with a publicity stunt.
Gracie flinches the slightest bit, and Felix drops a warning hand on my shoulder. “She’s at the bar talking to her old boss. And I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want you making a scene.”
I’m two steps away when Summer looks up and spots me, and the relief on her face sends a bolt of lightning straight to my heart. She’s glad I’m here. Which means I’m right, and this guy shouldn’t be anywhere near her.
I could lie to myself and say I’m only kissing her because we’re in public. Because her jerk of a boss is watching, and he needs to believe we’re together. But right now, I’m kissing Summer because I want to—because I want her to know she’s mine.
I motion to her jerk of an ex-boss with a tilt of my head. “Who’s your friend?” I infuse my words with what I hope sounds like easy confidence, keeping my words light enough that there’s no trace of jealousy. I’m not intimidated by this man. I don’t want him to think I am.
Jason looks me up and down, then audibly scoffs. “So it is true,” he says, his tone dripping with derision. “Congratulations on finally wearing her down. She’s a prickly one.” He says this last part with a knowing eye roll, like we’re commiserating over a shared experience. I pull Summer a little closer. “Funny,” I say. “That hasn’t been my experience at all.”
I turn and walk Summer back to the table, tucking her close, keeping my body between her and Jason. I don’t even want him to see her anymore, much less think he can try to talk to her again. I guide her to the seat next to Gracie, then place both hands on her shoulders, squeezing them once. “Stay here,” I say, my voice low. “Nathan, wait—” Summer says, but for once, I ignore her. I motion to my teammates, who immediately stand up and wordlessly follow me back to the bar.
“She’s not your concern,” I say menacingly. “She doesn’t want to hear from you, she doesn’t want to see you. And you won’t see her again. Not unless you want to answer to me.” Jason’s jaw tightens, but then he rolls his eyes and nods. I lean into him a little harder. “Tell me you understand,” I say, and he huffs. “Tell me,” I growl. “I understand.” His voice cracks at the end of his last word, and I finally let him go, stepping back enough for him to move past me and get to his car.
“That was some kiss, man,” Alec says. I run a hand across my beard. “I’ve kissed her before.” “Not like that, you haven’t,” Van says. So it wasn’t just me who thought that kiss was different.
Then there’s the fact that he showed up in Harvest Hollow. Apparently, he came to town to meet with a witness, so it was only coincidence he was at Mulligan’s. Silver Creek isn’t that far away, so I can believe the work story. But it was still unsettling to see him. He doesn’t belong in my new life. At least I don’t have to worry about seeing him again. Jason is an opportunist, but he’s a coward at heart. He won’t bother me again—especially now that he knows I’m with Nathan. Or…thinks I’m with Nathan, anyway.
Nathan kissed me like he owned me. Like I was the object of his every desire. Like he could not get enough. Now I know for sure that he was holding back whenever we kissed in public. Those kisses were amazing—it’s Nathan, after all—but they were survivable. This one—there’s no going back.
I lift a hand to his face, sliding my thumb over his beard. “Nathan,” I whisper. He opens his eyes, and for once, they’re completely unguarded, his desire for me so raw, so readily apparent that it takes my breath away. “Please don’t fight this,” I say. I tilt my face up and brush my lips against his, tentatively at first, but then his body softens, melting into me as I deepen the kiss.
His broad hands slide from my hips up to my back, and I let out a low whimper as his tongue brushes against mine. When his hands move to cradle my face, his fingertips pressing against my skin with gentle firmness, the kiss shifts. Before this moment, I was kissing Nathan. I asked and he answered, his body moving in rhythm with mine. But now, he’s the one steering this ship, and I happily surrender control.
The realization that he could still toss me over his shoulder triggers a new pulse of longing deep in my gut.
Nathan growls as my hands move higher, exploring his shoulders, the dips and hollows of his muscles as they twitch and flex under my touch.
I’m not sure how long we kiss. Long enough that our pace slows from something frenzied to something a little more languorous—a gentle exploration that liquefies my limbs and loosens my muscles.
But I won’t make that demand of him. I didn’t tell him because I needed him to say it back. I told him because I’m tired of pretending it isn’t true.
But Nathan, my heart’s already in this. I’m in too deep. I can’t just keep pretending, hoping that you’ll eventually decide this is what you want.” He spins around, fire flashing in his eyes. “Of course it’s what I want,” he says, his voice broken and husky. “It’s never been a question of desire. I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you, and I’ve wanted you every moment since.”
“What if you take the time you’re away to think about things? Don’t feel like you have to call or text. Just…take a break. See how you feel.”
A part of me absolutely wants to run and cry, wallow in the fact that I just said I love you and Nathan did not say it back.
I can’t shake the feeling that this kiss is Nathan saying goodbye. But I have to let him go. He knows how I feel. All I can do is wait and hope he feels the same way.
It doesn’t feel right to be here without her—to be anywhere without her. And yet, the thought of accepting her as a permanent part of my life still scares the hell out of me.
It isn’t about hockey, man, and you don’t need to overthink it. Just be better than your father was. Do better. There was more. Stuff about believing I deserve happiness and not getting in my own way.
No one but my immediate family has ever said I love you, not unless I count my teammates who usually only say it when they’re slamming me into the boards. But Summer said it. And knowing how well she knows me, she said it with no expectation that I would say it back. I don’t care what Felix says. I will never deserve her. I also don’t think I can live without her.
The whole thing takes about fifteen minutes. For all the frustration and struggle we’ve dealt with over the past two months, it feels anticlimactic to have it all end so easily. But just like that, Blake is free, his record clear. Like the whole thing didn’t even happen. The judge admonishes Blake to choose his friends wisely and to always remember that guilty by association is still guilty. Then we’re free to go.
“Wesley Rivers,” I say, suddenly placing the man’s name, though not because I remember ever having met him in person. “I remember you. Left defender. You had a great run in Providence before they called you up to Boston.” It suddenly strikes me as odd that even after playing on his team for all this time, Blake has never mentioned that Coach Rivers played hockey with Dad. Even just now, when he introduced him, all he said was that his coach was a Bruin. Technically correct, but he wasn’t just a Bruin. He won a Stanley Cup with our father.
Good teammates and good friends will always want what is best for you as an individual.”
“Were you talking about my father?” He’s quiet for a moment before he slowly nods, compassion filling his dark brown eyes. “A lot of us tried to help him after he got hurt, to keep his spirits up, but he pushed us away. Chose to spend time with men who were only good for a drink and a conversation about the glory days.”
“I suppose you might have been too young to remember, but your dad—he was an example to the rest of us.” He chuckles, like he’s lost in his memories, before looking back at me. “The number of times that man was late for practice because he was dropping you off at school or taking you skating or getting ice cream with your sister. I learned a lot from him about how to prioritize my family first. He was a good man in that regard.”
He was an addict, Nathan, and it ruined him. But he was also my teammate. My brother. I think about him every day and wish I could have done more to help.
“He was the same man—both versions. I hope one day you can remember that.”
