Page 123 of The Fake Out
She’s joking, but there’s a protective edge to her gaze. She’s trying to make us comfortable by joking around, I realize.
If it’s possible, I love her a little more.
My mom watches on, wearing a funny expression like she’s amused and surprised, but heartbroken. “I agree. Snow means you have to go outside.” The side of her mouth lifts. “You used to love going outside in the snow,” she says quietly. “You would make a snowman every year.”
Pain racks through me, and I swallow past the rock in my throat. She gave that all up when she left, and I’ve squashed any hope of a relationship.
I want to ask her a million questions about her life. I want to tell her all about Hazel and hockey and how I think everything may have gotten fucked up with us because of me, but the words lodge in my vocal cords, and I turn to Hazel.
“We should get home.”
My mom blinks, standing taller. “I’m having a Christmas party.” There’s a rushed, frantic edge to her words, like she doesn’t want it to end like this, either. “Tomorrow afternoon. Just a casual gathering, a few friends. You don’t have to bring anything, just yourselves.” Her demeanor dims, like she’s bracing herself for me to say no, before she takes a deep breath. “I’d love for you to be there,” she tells me before her gaze swings to Hazel, brightening. “You too, Hazel, I’d love for you both to be there.” Our eyes meet. “If you want.”
Hazel watches me with concern and fire in her eyes, like she’s ready to strike if I need her.
Want to?she asks with her eyes.
I shouldn’t, because I’ve done enough damage with the relationship between me and my mom, but there’s that ache again in my chest.
Maybe it doesn’t have to be this way. Maybe I can show her I’m not my dad.
When I give Hazel a barely perceptible nod, she lights up.
“We’d love to come,” she tells my mom.
Her face relaxes with visible relief, and she lists off the time and address.
I nod. “I remember.”
“Of course.” She shakes her head to herself. “Of course you do.” She takes another deep breath, looking me over again. She looks like she wants to say more. “Well—”
Without thinking, I rush forward and give her a hug. She’s stiff for a moment before she relaxes, clutching me hard, and her painfully familiar scent makes my chest hurt. I pull back before I do something stupid, like tell her I miss her.
“See you then.”
“See you then,” she whispers as I lean down for Hazel to climb onto my back.
I carry Hazel away, heart pounding, and just before we turn the corner, I look over my shoulder to see her standing there, watching us.
CHAPTER61
HAZEL
On Christmas morning,I wake to Rory carrying a tray into the bedroom.
“Good morning,” he says, crooking a grin at me.
He’s shirtless, wearing black dress slacks and a black bowtie. I burst out laughing.
“What are you wearing?” I ask as he sets the tray on the bedside table.
He hands me a mug. “What, you don’t like it?” He flexes his pecs and I smile harder. His hair is rumpled and his eyes are sleepy but affectionate.
How did I never see this in him, this kind, hilarious, gentle man? My life with Rory is so full, bursting with bright color.
“You look like a stripper.”
“I need a backup in case hockey doesn’t work out.”