Falling: A Fake Dating College Hockey Romance (North University Book 1)
Falling: Chapter 29

I meant it when I said that she was mesmerizing.

Watching her in her skating costume, the music blaring from the speakers, and the rink almost full of people just makes that statement even more true. She performs her routine flawlessly, and I swear I’m still holding my breath. Her face is concentrated but effortlessly beautiful. She glides across the ice gracefully, each spin and turn landing smoothly.

I can’t tear my eyes away even if I wanted to. There is something so elegant and satisfying about watching her skate. I watch as she gets lost between the lyrics and the movements. I look around to see everyone else with the same expression: pure hypnosis. Even though playing hockey is similar to the adrenaline and the thrill, this feels so different. When we’re on the ice, we’re fighting, roughing each other up as we try to score a goal.

But this?

This is completely magical. I could watch her like this for hours and I would never get bored. I could spend the rest of my life just sitting in this seat while she moves around the ice.

She looks so peaceful while she skates, her body moving seamlessly with the music. I can tell there are so many intricate patterns and details that she puts into this routine. Like the way she rolls her head back slightly and the way her arms right down to her fingers flow with the music. Even when her eyes close for a few seconds, there are no faults.

She looks up at me for a split second, and I smile at her, but her smile wanders somewhere else in the crowd, and it drops. Her face turns sour as she turns back around, skating in the other direction. My heartbeat quickens, and my stomach twists. I try to replace who she is looking at, but I can’t see anyone else other than Kennedy and Scarlett, who are watching her beside me with adoration.

Her routine comes to an end, and we stand up to clap and whoop. Wren gives a shy smile in her finishing position before skating off the ice. I walk down to her as she’s stepping off the ice, itching to see her. People are still clapping by the time I get there.

“You did amazing. Like, so fucking good, Wren,” I say when she steps off. I slip my hand around her waist and kiss her on the cheek. She doesn’t throw me a confused look like she usually does; instead, she slips out of my grasp and pushes away from me, which is worse.

“Thank you,” she replies bluntly as she catches her breath. “I didn’t land my Lutz as well as I did in practice, but it’s fine… I think. Did you see my mom up there?”

Her words come out in a weird, breathy clump. “What? Uh, no. I didn’t know she was here.” I look around the stands as people watch the duet on the ice.

She makes a humph sound as she sits down on the bench outside the rink. “Well, she’s here, and I know she picked up on my mistake.”

“What mistake, Wren? You were perfect.”

Her head whips toward me, and she lets out a sad laugh. “I wasn’t perfect, Miles. I was far from it. You might not notice that, but my mom definitely will.”

“She wouldn’t,” I say, but I know it’s no use.

“I watched the literal second she lost interest. I saw the disappointment on her face, and she didn’t watch the second half of my set,” she explains.

I rest my hand on the small of her back. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

She shivers and pushes my hand away before straightening. “It’s nothing. It’s fine.”

I know she says it’s fine, but I don’t believe her. I think that the more she tells herself that, the more likely she is to believe it. I know because I’ve done it before. She hasn’t told me to leave yet, and I don’t think I would leave if she told me to. She’s just going to have to get used to the fact that some people always want to be with her even when she’s going through a hard time. So we sit in silence until all the performances are over and everyone surges out of the stadium.

Even when Kennedy and Scarlett come over to say congratulations, she gives them a smile before dropping it and turning to face the empty rink. They don’t make a fuss, and they walk away. They must know if there’s something wrong, but I don’t want to intrude, and I know she won’t open up to me if I bug her.

Heels click behind us, and we both turn around.

“Mom,” Wren says curtly as she stands up. She turns and walks toward her mom, who is rather dressed up for the occasion.

I stand up, brushing myself off as I walk toward her, standing next to Wren. I didn’t know I would be meeting the AD as the guy who’s dating her daughter. If I did, I would have worn something that isn’t jeans and a shirt saying how much I love her daughter.

“I had to take a phone call,” Miss Hackerly says, holding her chin high.

“In the middle of my performance?” Wren asks, her voice tight. Miss Hackerly nods, and I wince. “You couldn’t have waited until after and at least pretended you enjoyed it?”

“What good would it do either of us if I pretended to enjoy it?”

Silence falls between us.

I don’t know what to say, because all the thoughts I have right now are not very nice. What kind of mother treats their kid like that? Especially one like Wren, who is kind and selfless and talented and smart and way too fucking good to be treated like this by her mom.

I remember what she said to me the other night about how she doesn’t think her mom loves her or sees her as her daughter. How she’s probably the pawn in some game for her to relieve her glory days. It’s a fucking shame that someone so kind and loving could have someone so heartless as a mom.

Miss Hackerly directs her attention to me, her gaze not friendly in the slightest. “Is this your boyfriend everyone has been telling me about? I thought you would have at least told me in person.”

“I’ve been busy,” she mutters.

“It seems like it,” she says, “It makes sense now that your performance was off. You’ve been distracted.”

“I haven’t been distracted,” Wren argues, huffing out a breath. I don’t feel like I should be here for this. They’re talking about me as the distraction, and I’m standing right in front of them.

“You were never like this with Augustus. He pushed you to be better.”

“Yeah, and look where that got me,” Wren snaps. She takes in a steadying breath. “Look, Miles is a good person, and he’s a really fucking good boyfriend, so I really don’t care about what you have to say about that.”

That’s my girl.

If we weren’t in front of her mom, I would have covered her face in kisses by now. She probably would’ve rolled her eyes and pushed me away from her, but still.

Miss Hackerly doesn’t even acknowledge what Wren said, or me, and it pisses me off. “Listen,” she says, sighing, “your performance was fine. I know I was distracted, but it doesn’t take a genius to point out your Lutz needs more work.”

“Of course, you found space in your busy schedule to critique me. You’re unbelievable,” Wren says, scoffing. She hooks her arm into mine. “We’re going.”

She tugs at my arm, looking up at me with teary eyes before walking in the other direction. I don’t say anything because what am I supposed to say? I knew they had a difficult relationship, but I don’t think it’s my place to step in. She doesn’t need me to save her. All I can do is just follow after her like the lost puppy I am.

“You said you needed to speak to me about something, Amelia,” her mom shouts after us. Wren stops walking and turns around, her cheeks red as if she’s been caught.

“It’s nothing. I’ll call you,” she murmurs.

“Okay, fine. I was going to go away to Palm Springs after Christmas and into the new year with Mike,” her mom begins, but Wren interrupts her.

“Great. Have fun.”

“But he has an important surgery coming up, and he doesn’t want to disrupt his schedule. That’s why he called me. We were going to reschedule, but he suggested that we let the two of you go. If you’d like,” Miss Hackerly explains, not seeming happy about the idea at all.

“I need to practice as you so clearly pointed out,” Wren argues. I look down at her, and her face is hard. I put my hand around her waist and pull her into me.

“You need to take a break,” I whisper for only her to hear. She tenses at the way my breath tickles her skin as she inhales a shaky breath. “You deserve it, Wren.”

“Did you hear what she just said? Clearly, I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I do⁠—”

I quirk my head to the side. “Do you really want to do this right now?”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay. Okay, fine,” she murmurs before turning to her mom, her voice stronger. “Thank you. We’d like that.”

The second we get back to her apartment, we order Thai food. Well, I ordered Thai food, and she took a salad out of the fridge. We’ve been sitting on the floor around the coffee table in silence until she finally speaks.

“You do know she’s only doing that so I won’t be mad at her, right?”

“What?”

“The vacation. I doubt she and Mike had plans. I bet she booked it right there in the stadium,” Wren mutters, laughing at herself.

“Has she done that before?”

“How else do you think we got to Barcelona?” Wren says, shaking her head. “I lost out on a comp because I wasn’t eating properly. I passed out on the ice. Before you say anything, it hasn’t happened since, and I’m not stupid enough to do that to my body again. One of the more mortifying points in my career, but I turned it around. But right after it happened, my mom could hardly look at me. So she booked me and the girls an all-inclusive vacation to Barcelona. I don’t know why she thought that would make everything better, like it was to show she still cared about me, but it never felt like that. I always knew deep down that she was doing it to be like ‘Hey, I’m not mad at you. Here, have some freedom as proof.’ But when I’d come back, it was back to the same shit, the same routine, and the same fucking comments about every single thing I do wrong.”

Her words sound like a sucker punch, and I wish I could do something to make it better for her. I wish I could give her a whole new mom all together. “Have you ever brought this up with her?”

“Once,” she says. “She sent me a new pair of skates for some stupid mistake I can’t remember. They were the most expensive ones she could replace, and when I confronted her about it, she gave me this whole spiel about how ungrateful I am and how she wishes I was still her sweet little Amelia.”

“Fucking hell,” I mutter. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” She lets out a short laugh. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not. It’s manipulative, Wren.”

She shrugs. “You know, saying it out loud to you has been the first time I’ve actually thought about it like that.”

“Jesus,” I murmur, shaking my head. I hate how okay she is with all this. How she’s so fine with everything being wrong with the relationship with her mom.

She sighs. “It’s cool. She’s my mom, you know? It’s hard to stay mad at her sometimes. It’s just… Let’s talk about something else so I don’t freak out.”

“What are your Christmas plans?” I ask instead, changing the subject. I grin, and she tries to hide her own smile.

“Nothing. Our flight to Palm Springs is the day after, so I guess I’ll spend Christmas Day here with Kennedy and Scarlett. My family aren’t very Christmassy people,” she mumbles between chews.

“How come?”

“Since the divorce, it’s felt kind of unnecessary to celebrate as a family. Neither one of them remarried, but they’re always dating new people, so it’s always felt a little awkward.”

“Do you like Christmas?” I ask, nudging her under the table with my foot. A smile creeps up her face.

“I love it. I like the seeing my friends and family part the most. It’s nice when everyone’s together.”

I hum. “My parents are having Christmas Eve dinner at home this year. They invited us since I skipped Thanksgiving, but I wasn’t going to go because my mom and I are in a weird place. But if you want to, we can go,” I ramble, unable to stop the shit spewing out of my mouth. “You know, only if you want,” I add.

I wasn’t going to mention that I was invited because as soon as I got the message from Clara, I was going to decline the invite, but hearing this, I had to ask. Besides, it’ll give me an excuse to finally see my mom again and hang out with my sister without her cornering me in her car.

“Of course I’ll go. How could I miss the opportunity to see baby pictures of you?”

“Are you sure? My family is a little unhinged.”

“They can’t be any more unhinged than mine.”

“Let’s test that theory, shall we?”

Wren gives me a wide smile before shoving more salad into her mouth. She chews thoughtfully, looking down at her food and then at me.

“You never talk about your parents. Is there anything I should know before we go?” she asks cautiously. “Are they axe murderers or have weird taxidermy animals in the living room?”

“My mom had an affair a few years ago, and I only just found out,” I spit out. “It’s over now, but it’s still weird to me.”

“Oh.” She clears her throat. “I kinda wish she was an axe murderer now.”

“Me too.” I sigh.

“That sucks. I’m sorry,” Wren says, smiling sympathetically. “But your parents are still together, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the weird part. My dad forgave her almost immediately. When I thought they were going on date nights, it turns out they were going to couples therapy. They’ve been hiding it from me for years.” I laugh but it’s forced.

“And you haven’t forgiven her?”

“I’m trying to. I’m just scared that if I see her, I won’t know how to act,” I admit. “We haven’t really spoken since I found out, and I don’t know what I’m going to say. It’s just awkward as fuck.”

“I’m going to be there. If you want to leave at any time, I can pretend I have diarrhea or something,” she suggests, and it sounds so genuine I laugh, shaking my head.

“Generous offer, but I couldn’t let you do that. I don’t think Clara would ever let us live it down,” I say, and her eyes widen. She scrambles from her side of the table and kneels in front of me, her hands on my shoulders, shaking them slightly.

“Shit, Miles. I forgot you have a sister. She’s going to hate me,” she says frantically. I chuckle and put my arms on her shoulders like she’s doing to me.

“She’s going to love you, Wren. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, but she’s a girl. She’ll know. She’ll replace something she doesn’t like. I know she will.”

“There is nothing about you that she wouldn’t like. You’re perfect.” She inhales, about to say something, but I stop her. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t try to tell me that I’m not telling the truth or that you’re not perfect because you are, okay?”

She shrugs shyly. “I mean, if you say so,” she mocks.

“Yes, I do say so.” We stare at each other for a minute until we finish eating our food in comfortable silence. I don’t want to overstay my welcome, so once I’ve thrown out my trash, I get going and hope Wren can be my good luck charm for facing my mom.