Falling: A Fake Dating College Hockey Romance (North University Book 1)
Falling: Chapter 40

The second I get a text from my mom, I know something is wrong. I don’t know how, but I do. Maybe it’s the fact that I felt a weird chill down my spine when I finished first in the regional finals for soloists at the end of last month. I’ve been working my ass off like a maniac, and I’ve hardly had a second to breathe over the last month and a half, and I’m a step closer to winning the national collegiate championships if all goes well.

I was expecting to come out on top, so I wasn’t surprised when I did. Darcy greeted me by the boards with a bouquet of flowers, Miles came up to me and kissed me senseless in front of all the cameras, and my mom just sat in the stands. She didn’t say a single word to me. She didn’t even smile or whisper “congratulations” when I slipped past her. All she’s thinking about is how well I’m going to be able to compete in regionals and the championships in the next coming weeks. It’s all that’s been on my mind, too, but with Miles taking over nearly every thought in my brain, I haven’t been stressing out about it as much as I usually would.

Maybe I should.

Maybe that’s what she wants to talk about. She’s probably going to talk me into breaking it off with him to focus on my performance, and I can’t blame her. I might think I’m doing good, and my scores reflect that, but that means nothing in my mom’s eyes. I’m pretty sure she’ll have the same bored expression on her face when I win Olympic gold.

I make my way to her house, and I can still feel that weird sensation running down my spine, but I can’t figure out what’s wrong. It’s probably just nerves. Yeah, that sounds about right. I’ve hardly spoken to my mom since I’ve been so busy with homework and skating. I also haven’t spoken to my sister in hopes that she’ll realize that Mom doesn’t know and she’ll have to tell her about the baby herself. It’s not like she’d be able to hide for much longer since the baby will be due in less than two months.

Mom’s house is quiet when I get there, but that’s nothing unusual. Two ex-divorcees living together constitutes a quiet home. The only time it’s ever full of life is when my mom and I would have lunch by the pool, and she’d give me unsolicited advice until it made me so sick I’d have to go home and cry.

I’ve always felt off being here since the divorce. I know it’s never been my home, but something else hangs in the air. It’s like walking into a house that hasn’t been used, loved, or had any visitors in years.

“Mom?” I call out. Nobody responds. I walk through the kitchen, and it’s deserted. I wander through the bright living room and the den, and still, nobody is there.

When I get to the dining room, which leads to the backyard and pool, I spot the back of my mom’s blonde head first. She’s standing next to one of the lounge chairs, staring out to the pool. When I get closer, I hear another voice. A female voice. I slide open the door, walking carefully out onto the patio.

“Austin?”

I don’t know why I ask because I know it’s her. My sister has always had the most striking features, and now, standing next to my mom I’m almost too shell-shocked to say anything. She’s wearing leggings and a white top, her small baby bump showing. She’s got my dad’s brown hair and his brown eyes to match. I always wished I looked like her instead of taking after my mom so much. I used to think she was the most stunning person I had ever seen, and she still is.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, stepping closer to them.

“You didn’t tell her,” Austin says, and her voice cracks. God. I can’t even remember the last time I heard her voice in person. It’s been years since I’ve seen her, and the least I want is a hug hello. My mouth opens and closes, and my mom scoffs. “I asked you to do one thing for me, Wren, and you didn’t do it.”

My hands shake, and I bring them to my lips. “I-I’m sorry. I had a lot going on. I’ve been busy.”

Mom turns around, her cobalt-blue eyes narrowing at me. “Too busy to tell me that your sister is carrying a baby? Too busy to call and check in once in a while? Too busy to take a free vacation with your boyfriend?”

I blink at her and press my nails into the palms of my hands, willing myself not to cry. “What are you talking about? I don’t see how this is my fault.”

“You think just because you’re skating at college now, you can shirk your family responsibilities? Your sister trusted you with this, and you let her down,” Mom explains.

“How are you mad at me about something that should never have been my responsibility?” I ask, but I don’t know why I do. I shouldn’t have run away. I shouldn’t have pretended that it didn’t exist and put my big girl boots on and told my mom the truth. Maybe the fallout wouldn’t have been this bad if I did.

Austin looks down, her eyes filling with tears. “I thought you would help me, Wren. I can’t believe you didn’t tell her.”

The guilt crashes over me like a wave. “I’m sorry, Austin. I really am. I just… I thought you would tell her yourself eventually, and I got caught up in other things.”

I have the urge to tell them that I have a life too, but I know that won’t get me anywhere. I’m starting to realize that maybe they’ve never cared about me and my life outside of skating. Maybe I’ve just been a pawn in some stupid game for years and it’s taken me this long to notice it.

“You always think someone else will clean up your messes,” Mom interjects. “Just like in skating, you rely on everyone else’s hard work to make you look good.”

“That’s not true,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. “I work hard. I’ve always worked hard. It’s all I fucking do.”

“Not hard enough,” Mom says coldly. “Your sister is standing here, pregnant, and you didn’t even have the decency to be honest with me.”

“Why would I be honest with you, Mom? All you do is pretend. You pretend to care. Pretend to be there for me. Pretend that what you’re doing is making me a better skater, but you don’t even care about me,” I shout. My voice shakes, and it’s taking everything not to break down right now. “You’ve never once asked how I was doing or checked in with me just because. You just expect me to perform. Perform for you and be this perfect little skater that you think I am. I’m not perfect, Mom.”

She holds her chin higher like my words have had no effect on her at all. “It takes skill, dedication, and time to be perfect, Wren. If you wanted to be, you would.”

I let out an incredulous laugh. “What else do you want from me? What else do you want me to do? Please tell me, Mom, because it’s killing me trying to figure it out. I always play by your rules. I always do what you say when you say it. I’ve always performed at my best to make you proud, and I don’t know how long I can keep doing this until you realize that I’m never going to be perfect.” Austin sits down like my words have knocked the wind out of her, and if I wasn’t so full of energy right now, I would sit down too. “I convinced a hockey player to date me so we could get some more recognition for the team. I put myself out, did everything I could because you asked me to, and I don’t do this one thing and the entire world is on my case. It makes no fucking sense.”

My mom blinks at me, and her eyes narrow even more, a dangerous glint forming. “What did you say? About that boy?”

“I thought it would help. He’s popular, and I thought if people saw us together, it would get more attention for the team,” I say, and I sound stupid as fuck trying to explain it to her. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

A cold, bitter laugh escapes her lips. “You really are desperate, aren’t you? You really thought pretending to date some boy is going to make you a better skater?”

“I didn’t do it to be better. I’m more than capable of becoming a better skater on my own. I did it for the team”—my voice wobbles—“I did it for you.”

She scoffs. “What makes you think that he’d even be interested in you for real?”

I feel the sting of her words deep in my chest.

“It wasn’t like that,” I mutter, “What we have is real now.”

“Real,” she says, sneering. “Don’t fool yourself. A boy like him would get bored of you in days. He’s using you, Amelia, just like you’re using him.”

I can’t hold back the tears anymore. They spill over, hot and uncontrollable. “That’s not true,” I say, but my voice is weak, and I can’t believe my own words.

“One of the things I admire most about you, Wren, is how selfish you are,” my mom says, her voice low and thick with condescension. “You always put yourself first. You do whatever it takes to push yourself to the top regardless of who you hurt in the process. You think this fake relationship is about helping the team? It’s about making you look good, about getting the attention you crave. You got too caught up, and you’ve forgotten about the people who actually care about you.”

Admire.

Admire, not love.

The words hit me harder than any blow. For so long, I thought my mom’s harshness was her way of pushing me to be better. But now, I see it clearly—she’s been using me to relive her own failed dreams, to recapture the glory she lost. Every critique, every manipulation, it was all for her. She doesn’t think of me as her daughter. Wren her daughter and Wren the figure skater are clearly two different people to her, and I honestly don’t know if I truly exist as my own person without skating sometimes.

I don’t want that. I don’t want to do this for her. I’ve always told myself I skate for myself because I want to do better. Because I want to be the greatest in the fucking world. Not for her.

I look at Austin, hoping for some support, but she’s still looking down, silent and complicit. She looks pathetic. How can she just sit there and let my mom speak to me like that? Let her rip me apart like I’m not her daughter. The weight of it all crushes me, and I feel like I’m drowning.

“You’re wrong,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I’m not selfish. I’ve been doing everything to make you proud and to live up to your expectations. But I see now that it’s never been about me, has it? It’s always been about you and your dreams.”

Mom’s eyes flash with anger. “How dare you? Everything I’ve done has been to make you the best. To give you the life I never had.”

“No,” I say, replaceing strength in my realization. “You’ve been using me to chase your own glory. I’m done living for your approval. I’m done being manipulated.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, with a final, cold look, Mom turns away. “You’ll regret this, Wren. When you fail, and you will fail, don’t come crying to me.”

Austin’s eyes are filled with tears, but she remains silent, caught in the middle of our storm. I turn to her, my heart aching. “I’m sorry, Austin. I truly am. I should have been there for you, but you staying here, taking her side, is pathetic. I know you won’t realize it now, but I need you too.”

She nods slightly, her tears mirroring mine. “I know. I’m sorry too.”

The drive home feels longer than ever, each step a heavy burden as I replay the confrontation with my mom in my mind. Her words, like daggers, pierced through the armor I had built around myself, exposing the raw vulnerability I’d kept hidden for so long. And Austin’s silence, her compliance with my mom’s accusations, cuts me even deeper than her words.

As I step into the dimly lit apartment, Kennedy and Scarlett’s concerned faces greet me, and just seeing them here eases the pain a little. I called them on the way back saying that something had happened, but I could hardly get the words out. The facade I had desperately tried to maintain crumbles at their concern, and I can’t hold back the flood of emotions threatening to drown me.

Kennedy’s arms envelop me as I collapse into her embrace, the weight of everything crashing down on me at once. The tears flow freely now, unstoppable, as I bury my face in her shoulder, the sobs wracking my body with each breath.

Scarlett rushes to my side, her touch gentle as she tries to offer words of comfort, but they fall on deaf ears. All I can hear are my mom’s accusations echoing in my mind, each word a painful reminder of the love I had craved but never received.

“I thought… I thought I was doing everything right,” I manage to choke out between sobs, the words barely audible through the pain gripping my chest. “But it was never enough. It was never about me.”

Kennedy’s arms tighten around me, a silent gesture of support as I finally let go of the facade I had clung to for so long. It’s only because I’m surrounded by my friends that I feel a glimmer of hope flicker to life within me.

But as the tears continue to fall, I can’t shake the overwhelming feeling of being unlovable, unworthy of the love I so desperately crave. I feel utterly broken, the weight of my insecurities crushing me under its grip, like there’s forever going to be a gaping hole in my chest. And in that darkness, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever be able to replace my way back to the light.