Falling: A Fake Dating College Hockey Romance (North University Book 1)
Falling: Chapter 16

The more time I spend with the skating team, the more I wonder why I’m even at this college at all. After the disaster that was regionals last year, going solo has been the best decision I’ve ever made. I used to love competing in group skates when I was younger, but there’s less control when I’m working with a group. Partnering with Augustus helped that, and I actually enjoyed the routines Darcy would help us choreograph, but after I realized how easily one mistake could set my career back, I decided to put myself back in control.

Today’s practice session wasn’t too bad. I had a chance to run through my program with Darcy and talk to the other solo skaters on the squad, Eva and Madelyn, about what they’re planning to do for the winter showcase. My mom sometimes sits in on the practices, but she wasn’t here today, and the energy in the locker room after we all return shows that.

Madelyn flops onto a bench, pulling off her skates with a dramatic sigh. “I swear, if I have to do that double axel one more time, my legs are going to fall off.”

Eva laughs, sitting down beside her. “At least you landed it. I’m still tripping over my own feet on the footwork sequence.”

I join them, feeling a rare sense of camaraderie. “You both looked great out there. Darcy seemed pleased. Luckily, my mom wasn’t here to start barking orders.”

India sighs, shaking her head. “No offense, Wren, but she always takes over our practices. I don’t know what makes her think she’s our coach. Darcy shouldn’t let her walk all over her.”

I laugh. “I know. She just needs something to do with herself. But don’t worry, seriously, you all looked so good today.”

Madelyn grins. “Yeah, but now we just need to get the rest of the world to care.”

Eva nods, her expression turning serious. “Speaking of which, we need to talk about the showcase. If we don’t get more support, our program might get cut. No sponsors, no donations, no team.”

The mood shifts as the reality of our situation sinks in. We all know what’s at stake. I always wish I had a better relationship with my teammates, but we’re all so busy with school and skating that we hardly get to hang out. It’s nice though. We all have this one thing in common, and when it’s necessary, we can pull things together.

“I know,” I say. “We need a plan to drum up support. Maybe we could do some kind of promotional event or a social media campaign?”

Madelyn perks up. “That’s a good idea. It’s better than a bake sale. Maybe we could do a live Q&A on Instagram or TikTok, show off some of our routines, and get people excited about the showcase.”

Eva nods enthusiastically. “And we can invite some local schools to a practice session, get the younger kids involved. Parents love supporting things their kids are interested in.”

There’s a brief silence as we all mull over the ideas. Then Madelyn smirks at me. “Speaking of support, Wren, how’s it going with Miles? You two have been hanging out a lot lately.”

I feel a flush creep up my cheeks. “It’s great,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. Telling them that I’m faking it could be risky, so I try to give them some details but not enough. “Since we started hanging out, people have been talking about us more, if that helps.”

Eva giggles. “Yeah but are you sure it’s not just for popularity.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. “It’s not like that. We’re just helping each other out.”

Madelyn raises an eyebrow. “Helping each other out, huh? Sounds like a convenient arrangement given the timing. Are you sure you’re not just rebounding from Augustus?”

I can’t stop the laugh that escapes me. “No, Jesus. I got over that a long time ago.”

They all look at me like they think I’m lying. I am over it. Just because I was going through a hard time after we broke up doesn’t mean that I’m still thinking about it. He’s given me the opportunity to finally work on myself and what I can do to make myself a better skater. Mine and Miles’s arrangement is just going to prove that even more.

I shake my head, laughing softly. “It’s not like that. Miles and I… we just have an understanding. He needed a distraction, and I guess I did too.”

Eva’s eyes twinkle mischievously. “A distraction, huh? You know, sometimes, distractions turn into something more.”

I shrug, trying to play it cool. “Maybe. But for now, it’s just nice to have someone around who gets it, you know?”

Madelyn gives me a knowing look. “Rebounds can get messy.”

“Thanks for the advice, Dr. Phil,” I say, rolling my eyes.

Eva claps her hands together. “Alright, back to business. Let’s make a list of everything we need to do for this social media campaign. We’ll need videos, photos, and maybe even some behind-the-scenes content. It shouldn’t be that hard.”

We spend the next half hour brainstorming ideas, and by the time we’re done, the mood in the locker room has lifted. There’s a sense of purpose, a feeling that we’re all in this together. And as I look around at my teammates, I realize that maybe, just maybe, this team is exactly where I’m supposed to be.

After we all go our separate ways, I replace myself itching to speak to Miles. We’ve got the event at my dad’s hotel in a few days, but I haven’t heard from him today, which is concerning. He’s usually blowing up my phone and demanding to hang out with me. The fact that he hasn’t sent me a link to a song he’s listening to all day is worrying.

I make my way to the hockey facilities across from the skating rink. If he’s not at home, he might be here. I’ve tried to suggest we go skating together sometime instead of going to the gym, but he brushed me off. I would have been offended that he didn’t want to skate with me if I didn’t see the hurt in his eyes when I suggested it. There’s clearly something holding him back from getting back on the ice that has nothing to do with his physical strength.

When I push open the doors to the arena, the comforting chill of the ice hits me, and the thump of the doors echoes when I step through them and they swing back. It’s completely empty here, and I don’t know why I’m surprised. There’s a timetable between our rinks that shows when the figure skaters and the hockey players have practice, and I know there wasn’t one today. What I’m not expecting to replace is Miles sitting on a bench outside of the rink with his head in his hands.

“Miles?” I call out, even though I know it’s him. I could probably recognize him out of a million clones. There’s something about his presence that draws me to him, and I keep on walking until I’m standing in front of him. Then I notice that he’s not just got his head in his hands to listen to music before skating, but he’s crying. Popular Miles Davis with the flirty jokes and the cocky personality is sitting in here, alone, and he’s crying.

I bend down to crouch between his legs. He’s wearing his skates, but they’re not laced up, and his gloves and stick are discarded on the floor.

I grip his wrists, rubbing my thumbs against them like he does to me to calm me down. “Hey, are you okay?” I whisper. It’s a stupid question. Obviously, he’s not okay. He wouldn’t be sitting here crying if he was. “Miles, look at me.”

His shoulders shake with sobs, and I just want to take away his pain. “I can’t.”

“You can,” I press, swiping my thumb against his wrist again.

“I’m pathetic, Wren.”

My heart lurches in my throat at the vulnerability in that one sentence. “You’re not pathetic.”

“I’m a fucking mess,” he mutters, finally looking up at me. His eyes are red and swollen, and I’m struck by the pain that’s etched into his features. “I can’t even put on my helmet or my jersey without feeling like I’m going to throw up. Everything I do just makes me feel like I can’t breathe, and even when I try, it’s not enough. I try not to think about him. I try not to think about the last game we had together, but it’s the only thing on my mind. Everywhere I go, he’s right there, and I’m not doing enough to make him proud. I’m just walking around with a hole in my heart, and I don’t know how to get it to go away.”

My hands shake as I reach for his face. I hover over his cheek, and he presses himself into me like he needs my warmth. He closes his eyes, tears still spilling down his cheeks and onto my hand as I cradle his face.

“Things like this don’t just go away,” I whisper, swiping my thumb under his eye. “You’re allowed to think about him. You’re allowed to be upset, or angry, or anything, because everything you feel right now is valid.”

He takes in a shuddery breath, and it breaks my heart. “I just want it to stop.”

“What do you want to stop?”

“The pain. I keep feeling everything all at once, and it’s like it just keeps festering in me and getting worse instead of getting better. I have moments where everything feels okay and then it just comes crashing down on me and I just—” His voice cracks. “I don’t know if I can handle it anymore. I know I shouldn’t think like that, but I can’t help but think it would be better if I wasn’t here. If it was me that went instead of him. He didn’t deserve what happened to him, and it would be so much easier if it was me. Maybe then⁠—”

“What makes you think you deserve that?” I ask, my own voice heavy with emotion. He shrugs, more tears falling. “Miles, what happened to Carter should never have happened. Just because he’s gone, doesn’t mean that you should have taken his place. You’re still here for a reason, and you’re going to continue making him proud on and off the ice.”

“He deserves a better friend than I am being right now, Wren,” he says, throwing his head back and trying to collect himself before facing me head-on. “I should be playing with our team right now, and I can’t even do that. Do you know how hard it is for me to even think about hockey without thinking about him?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think I could ever understand what you’re going through, but that doesn’t mean you should be alone. You can always talk to me about whatever you’re feeling, and I’m never going to judge you. You’re an amazing player, Miles, and the team is always going to be there for you when you make your way back.”

He lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “You’ve never seen me play.”

I lift one shoulder before dropping it. “I watched a few of your game tapes.”

“You watched my games?”

I smile. “Research.”

“Research,” he echoes, a smile playing on his lips. As if he’s just realized I’ve been stroking his face, his fingers circle around my wrist, his thumb rubbing against my skin. “Thank you for being here.”

“Of course,” I say, wiping away the last of the tears. “You don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. If you want to just sit here and stare at the ice until security kicks us out, we can do that.”

“Yeah?” he asks, swallowing.

I nod, brushing my thighs before I stand. “Yeah.”

I sit on the bench next to him. He rests his hand on the inside of my thigh, his touch one of the most calming and grounding presences of my life. I drop my head to his shoulder, and he sighs like there has been a weight lifted from him. I feel a sense of peace wash over me. It’s like the weight of the world feels that much less when he’s around, and I know he can feel it, too. All that’s left is this moment, and we spend hours just listening to the gentle hum of the empty arena, holding each other until the storm passes.