Page 117 of Faking the Shot

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Page 117 of Faking the Shot

That actually made sense. Zac was so busy and knew that she was too, so their relationship, as fake as it may be, wasn’t so much about quantity of time, but the quality. And while some might question the quality, she felt more connected to him than with any other guy she’d met before.

“Look, they’re coming out.”

The game soon started, and she watched as the men played with skills and smarts. The crowd was made up of many Minnesotans, who cheered loudly each time Mitch Reilly took to the ice.

She watched how he delivered hits, until Brent, his captain, took him aside.

“Mitch is always a little excitable,” Hannah said, her tone dry.

Seemed so.

It was interesting to watch the caliber of play. She was used to Vancouver’s skills, but here, where every player was either nominated by their team or had been voted in by fans, meant all the bells and whistles were on display.

Zac was especially awesome, his fast pivots and moves making him seem to dance across the ice. Until he hit the human wall that was Mitch Reilly, and tumbled into the boards, and the arena hushed.

* * *

Now that washow an All-Star game was not supposed to go. Zac blinked, the darkness clearing, as his sight settled. Fear pricked. He moved his toes. Thank goodness he could feel them. He wiggled his fingers. The trainer was speaking, but he could barely hear him. There was a rush of noise in his ears.

He blinked, wondering if blinking cleared hearing loss. Then swallowed. Oh, that helped.

“Can you stand?” the black-and-white striped official yelled.

He rolled to his side, gasped at the pain.

“We need a stretcher!” someone called.

“No, don’t.” His gaze found concerned faces. Mike, Franklin, Jai, Brent Karlsson, the opposing team’s captain. He wouldn’t be weak, wouldn’t be soft. He had to get up.

He tried to push upright, but his back spasmed, and he slumped back down. But he didn’t want to be stretchered off. He didn’t want to scare Ainsley. He glanced up, sent Mike and Franklin a silent plea for help.

Mike nodded, skated over, bent down. “Here.” Franklin and Brent helped him upright. And as the players tapped their sticks on the ice and the crowd applauded, he peered up. But the crowds were too blurry, and his back was too sore, and he needed to get off the ice before the nausea he could feel rising—oh, too late.

“They’re callingit an upper body injury,” he explained to his mom on a phone call the next day, “but it’s the same muscle I pulled before.”

He shivered. He was too young to have a career-defining injury. Some players played through chronic pain but he’d always been really careful with his diet and vitamins to ensure he was in top shape. To have his muscles give out on him like this showed he wasn’t as strong as he’d once thought.

“Oh, Zac.” His mom sighed. “I’m glad it’s not more serious.”

It sure felt plenty serious. “Concussion protocols mean I’ll be sitting out the next few games.”

“Well, you know you’re always welcome to come visit. Unless you’re too busy with your Ainsley.”

HisAinsley? Sometimes it felt like they lived in parallel worlds. She might’ve come to the All-Star game, and been appropriately shocked and stunned by his injury, but he couldn’t help but feel a renewed distance between them. And he got that she was still stressed about her aunt, and her career, and the fact that some people were still sniggering about the fake photo of her. He’d encountered a few of those at the All-Star tourney, among both players and fans.

But the fact she kept playing this get-close-then-pull-away game was getting really old. He just wanted her to be his girlfriend. For real. And he suspected that while part of her resisted, part of her wanted the same.

But how to find out, when this was a conversation to have in person, and their schedules remained at loggerheads, he didn’t know.

“… still hope she’ll show me the ranch where she works one day.”

He tuned back into what his mom was saying. “I heard her ask Cassie about it, so hopefully they can set something up soon.”

“Cassie? Who’s Cassie?”

“Franklin James’s sister. She runs the western town of the Three Creek Ranch.”

“I see.” She sighed. “Well, I just hope it will be soon. Now, speaking of Ainsley, do you have any more plans with her?”




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