The Fake Out: a fake dating hockey romance (Vancouver Storm Book 2)
The Fake Out: a fake dating hockey romance: Chapter 63

“I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN you’d drive something like this,” Hazel says that afternoon as I pull out of the parking garage.

I toss a grin over at her, turning on her seat warmer. “Fast, powerful, and incredibly good-looking?”

“Showy and expensive.” She snorts. “And only you would drive a car like this in the snow.”

“Hey, I have snow tires.” I change gears in the sports car, winking at her with a lazy grin as the engine purrs louder, and she rolls her eyes, hiding a smile. “Can you drive stick?”

“Nope. My dad wanted to teach us but Pippa and I both refused.”

The streets are quiet as we drive. “Do you want me to teach you?”

“Rory.” Her eyes flick over to me. “I’m not driving this car.” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Why not?”

She balks, probably about to protest that it’s too expensive or something.

“You might need a car for something.”

It’s fucking cute how she does that rapid-blinking thing when she’s flustered. Like this morning when she saw the box and thought it was an engagement ring. It almost makes me want to buy one to see what she’d say.

Who am I kidding? That’s not the reason I want to buy one.

“I’ll rent a car if I need one,” she insists.

“Okay.” I sigh like she’s worn me down. “I’ll get another car.” I pull onto the bridge to North Vancouver, and my gut tightens with nerves. “What kind of car do you want?’

She shakes with laughter. “You’re relentless.”

My thoughts wander to my mom, and another round of nerves pitch through me. My fingers drum on the steering wheel in anticipation. Do her friends even know about me? Does she have a partner? Does she still go hiking in the trails? It’s like she’s a stranger. But the way she looked at me yesterday, it felt like—

My exhale is heavy. It felt like she didn’t want it to be that way.

She left, though, so now I don’t fucking know what to think. I don’t know what I’m doing, going to visit her today.

Hazel’s hand lands on my thigh. She can see right through me, and she knows I’m nervous about today.

I wonder what else Hartley knows. I wonder if she realizes I’m in love with her.

“I’m glad you’re coming with me today,” I admit, glancing between her and the road.

Without Hazel, I’d make some excuse and then lift weights until I was too tired to think. With Hazel, though, I haven’t felt the urgent, clawing feeling that I’m not doing enough for hockey. If I asked her about it, she’d say I can take three days off without ruining my career, and I’d agree.

“I need you,” I add, inching closer to the secret I’m keeping from her.

Hazel’s changed my life in ways I couldn’t predict, and being with her is so much more than I expected.

She watches me, and I worry I’ve pushed it too far, but she just gives me that soft, sweet Hazel smile I’ve unearthed in the past few months.

“I’m happy I’m here, too,” she says, giving my leg another squeeze.

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