By admin Fake Dating My Ex’s Favourite Hockey Player Novel CH 28
LIAM
Hockey practice at six in the morning should be illegal.
I’m already regretting every life decision that led me here as I step into the rink, duffel bag on my shoulder and the cold air biting at my face. The fluorescent lights overhead flicker slightly, casting a dull glow over the ice. Most of the guys are already here, stretching, taping their sticks, chugging down whatever energy drinks they swear by.
I should be focused. Locked in. Ready to skate until my legs give out. But my mind is still stuck on yesterday–on Emilia.
She looked at me like I was the problem. Like she needed to put as much space between us as possible.
And maybe she’s right.
I shake off the thought and drop my bag onto the bench, yanking my jersey over my head. Cam claps a hand on my shoulder as he p his grin too bright for this hour. “You look like hell.“.
passes by,
I roll my eyes. “Thanks, man. Really needed that.”
“You good?”
I nod, even though I’m not sure. “Yeah. Just tired.”
It’s not a total lie. But the exhaustion in my bones has nothing to do with hockey.
The moment my skates hit the ice, everything else fades away.
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This is why hockey has always been my constant. It makes sense. It’s simple.
Completely unlike Emilia.
I thought we were finally getting along. Maybe even becoming… friends?
But friends don’t shut down the second things get too real. Or maybe I’m expecting too much from her. I try push the thought away and fail.
What can I expect from her? To give me more than what’s written in our contract? That’s not an option. That would only complicate things.
And I don’t want that. Relationships aren’t my thing.
I stop mid–stride, my breath coming out in a cloud.
Why the hell am I even thinking about a relationship with Emilia?
I shove the thought away. It’s ridiculous. Besides, it’s clear her ex still has
a hold on her.
It’s none of my business, I know that. But lately, I can’t stop thinking
about her and Zane.
She’s changed a lot these past few weeks–maybe she’s finally moved on. But theory is one thing. In practice? I might be walking onto that cruise just to watch her and Zane get back together, leaving Becca and me in the dust.
The thought makes me uneasy, though I can’t figure out why.
Yeah, we’ve spent a few good weeks together. But she was with Zane for ten years. That doesn’t just disappear.
And I have no idea why I even care.
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CHAPTER 28
TER–WIRTIS
Lyle slams his stick against the ice next to me, loud enough to make me flinch. “Jesus, Calloway. You gonna stand there all day, or are you actually planning to skate?”
Lyle Conner is an asshole.
Not in the way that makes you want to punch him outright, but in the way that makes you consider it at least twice a day.
He’s sharp–tongued, annoyingly perceptive, and has a habit of saying things people don’t want to hear–but somehow, he’s still the guy you’d want on your team when things go south.
A solid right wing, fast as hell on the ice, and fearless when it comes to taking a hit. Off the ice? He’s just as reckless, especially when it comes to pushing buttons.
And right now, he’s pushing mine.
I huff out a breath, shaking off whatever’s clouding my head. “Relax, I’m coming.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Lyle smirks, skating backward as I push forward. “You just looked like you were having a moment over there. Deep in thought, all broody and tragic.” He tilts his head. “Let me guess, it’s the Elijah girl?”
I nearly trip over my own skates. “What?”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t play dumb. You think I don’t notice? You’ve been weird for days. And it’s obviously about a girl.”
I grip my stick tighter. “It’s not-”
“Oh, please. If you say it’s not, I swear to God, I’ll check you into the boards right now.
”
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I grit my teeth and push harder across the ice, but Lyle keeps up easily, his smirk widening. “You were staring at the wall in the locker room for, like, five minutes yesterday,” he continues. “And before you say you were thinking about hockey, you weren’t. You had that look.”
I narrow my eyes. “What look?”
“That look. The one guys get when they’re thinking too hard about a girl and it’s messing with their head.” He tilts his head, fake sympathy in his voice. “It’s okay, Calloway. Feelings are scary.”
I shove his shoulder, making him stumble. “Shut up.”
Lyle just laughs. “See? If I was wrong, you wouldn’t be so pissy.”
Coach’s whistle cuts through the air before I can argue, and Lyle grins. “Saved by the whistle.” He skates off toward the drill. “But you are distracted, man. Figure your shit out before it messes with your game.”
I exhale hard, shaking my head. Whatever. It’s none of his business
anyway.
I skate to my position, gripping my stick a little too tight. The drills start, and I push harder than necessary, trying to outrun my own thoughts. Every pass, every shot, every sharp turn–I tell myself this is all that matters. Not whatever the hell is messing with my head.
Not her.
Especially not any of Lyle fucking Connor’s bullshit.
I don’t know why I’m letting him get in my head. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He doesn’t even have the name right.
There’s nothing going on between me and Jessica. No matter how much I wish there was.
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But even as I push through the next drill, the uneasy feeling in my chest won’t go away.
After hours of practice, I hit the showers, change into some spare clothes, and grab my duffel bag. I’m out of there as fast as possible.
Normally, I’d stick around. Maybe grab a drink with the guys, crash at someone’s place, play some video games, or eat way too much barbecue. But not today. My head’s a mess, and the last thing I need is to accidentally turn my frustration into an actual punch to Lyle’s face.
I take a deep breath as I step outside. Cold air hits me, but it doesn’t clear my head the way I hoped. If anything, it just makes me more restless.
I tug my hoodie over my head and start walking to my car, hoping the fresh air will do something–anything–to shake this mood. It doesn’t.
Lyle was talking shit, as usual, but the worst part? He wasn’t entirely
wrong.
I have been distracted. And yeah, maybe he got the girl entirely wrong, it still had to do with a girl.
I unlock my car, toss my bag into the passenger seat, and slide in behind the wheel. My fingers drum against the steering wheel as I sit there, staring at nothing.
I should go home. Sleep. Get my head straight before I have to deal with another day of Coach’s devil training.
Instead, I find myself pulling out my phone.
Before I can think too hard about it, my fingers move on their own- texting Emilia.
Me: You busy?
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I mull it over for a few minutes before deleting the message. I toss my phone onto the passenger seat and scrub a hand down my face.
What the hell am I doing?
There’s no reason to text her. No reason to want to see her. We barely even tolerate each other most days. And yet, for some stupid reason, she’s. the only person I can think about right now.
I exhale sharply, gripping the wheel. I should just go home, sleep this off, and wake up tomorrow like none of this ever happened.
For once, I actually listen to the rational voice in my head.
The drive home is only fifteen minutes, but it feels longer with my thoughts running in circles. By the time I pull into the driveway of my penthouse, I’m exhausted. I just want to go inside, take a shower, and forget about today.
But then I see her.
A petite figure stands next to the entrance of my apartment, dressed in all black–hoodie pulled up, black cap, oversized sunglasses, and a face mask. Her skirt stops mid–thigh, and her heels, though high, still don’t do much for her height.
At first glance, it might look over–the–top. But considering the press she’s been getting lately? This is actually subtle.
And this? This is a terrible idea.
I step out of the elevator, and that’s when she finally notices me. She pulls down her mask, revealing a smile.
“Hey, Li.”