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

I don’t meet Miles for lunch like I said I would.

I don’t see anyone I’m supposed to be friends with for two weeks unless I accidentally bump into them on my way to the rink, the gym, or on the bus to another comp. Competing in the championships is hard enough, and having my mom’s words still ringing in my ears isn’t helping. It only took one conversation with her to prove how completely and utterly unlovable I am. How easy it is for people to lose interest in me when I’m no longer performing for them and bending over backward to change into a person that is more digestible for them.

I never even wanted to experience romantic love until I met Miles. I was so content with it just being me and my girls, and I didn’t need a man to fill that gaping hole inside of my chest that has never fully healed. But, deep down, I crave it now more than ever.

As much as I love my friends, as much as Kennedy and Scarlett have been my anchors in this storm, it’s not the same. There’s a part of me that still craves romantic love. The tender moments, the whispered words of affirmation, the feeling of being someone’s priority. I want to know what it’s like to be cherished in that way, to be the person someone chooses every single day, not out of obligation, but out of genuine love.

I thought Miles was that person for me, the one who could see past the walls I’ve built and love me for who I am, not who I pretend to be. But now, I can’t shake the fear that maybe my mom was right. Maybe I’m too much work, too much trouble, and not worth the effort in the long run. Maybe Miles will get tired of me too, just like everyone else.

I try to focus on my routines, on the precise movements that have always given me a sense of control. But the ice feels colder beneath my skates, the applause emptier, and the victories hollow. Pushing Miles away might have been the stupidest thing I’ve ever done because every piece of happiness that I get falls short of what it would have been like if he was there. I don’t get his stupid jokes, his smiles, his ridiculous singing, and his inability to keep his hands off me. I didn’t think I’d miss him so much, but keeping him at arm’s length has been good for my performance, although not so much for my personal health.

I can deal with that later.

Right now, all I want to do is continue watching Modern Family until my eyes close. I’ve spent the entire day at the gym, and I planned on ignoring Kennedy and Scarlett’s nagging to leave the apartment. I’m giving myself tonight to wallow and feel sorry for myself because if I spend another second in my brain, stressing over things that are beyond my control and trying and failing to get my medication to actually do something, I might go legitimately insane.

I’ve managed to deal with my anxiety over the last few months, and just when I think everything is going great, something else happens and I find myself falling back into a dark place. I hate it when that happens because I can quite literally feel myself falling. I know when it’s going to get bad again, but I can’t do anything to stop it, and I just let it be until it crushes me. A stupid part of me thinks that the more I look at self-help websites telling me that this feeling will pass, the more I might start to believe it.

Of course, my wallowing doesn’t last for long because I have two golden retrievers as best friends.

“Wrenny? Do you want something to eat?” Kennedy asks, knocking on my door.

I sigh, pausing the episode I’ve been smiling like a loon at. “No, I’m good.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t left your room all day,” Scarlett insists. Her voice is an octave higher than usual, which only happens when she’s extremely stressed. I know I’ve put them through hell for the past three weeks, and they’ve been checking up on me, trying to talk me off a cliff at any chance they can get, and I love them for it.

“That’s kinda the plan,” I shout, rolling my eyes as if they can see.

They both mutter to each other, sounding like evil geniuses as they do so. I don’t have the energy to listen to what they’re saying, and I press play on the episode and get lost in the fictional world I desperately want to be a part of.

I’m deep into another episode when they knock on my door again. I groan, shutting my laptop and burying my head under the covers. If I didn’t have a highly competitive to finish, I would stay here forever. No drama. No friends. Just me and my comfort blanket forever.

As much as these girls have saved my life these last few weeks, sometimes, just having a conversation with them is exhausting. Pretending to be interested in things when I’m so caught up in my head is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I want to engage and be present, but just existing has felt like a chore, and whenever I get a second alone in my thoughts, I can’t stop thinking about how incredibly unlovable I might be, just like my mom suggested. It feels like a spiral is coiling tighter and tighter until it suffocates me.

“Wren,” Kennedy presses, her voice softer than before.

“What?”

“Can you come to the door?” she asks, sighing. I weigh the options. I’ll either have to listen to them nagging me from behind the door for hours on end or actually answer it and see what they want from me. They know when I get like this, but they’re persistent fuckers.

“Why?”

“We just want to make sure you’re alive,” Scarlett adds.

I groan, slipping out of the bed. “You know that me talking to you suggests that I’m alive, right?”

“I need to see it to believe it,” Kennedy says, and I walk toward the door. They’re both bickering about something, and I open the door to find the two of them with wide eyes. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Ken. Truly,” I say flatly. I know I look terrible. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends for weeks. I’ve only worn makeup for my competitions, and if I’m not studying or at the gym, I’ve been cooped up in here without a smidge of makeup and in sweats.

Scarlett beams. “Don’t be mad at us, okay?”

I narrow my eyes at them. “Why would I be mad at you?”

Before I know it, Miles appears behind them, and they shove him into my room, closing the door behind us. He almost falls right into me as his tall frame makes my average-sized room look tiny. My cheeks instantly flame with heat. My room is a mess, I’m a mess, and he is the last person I want to see right now.

I cross my arms against my chest, looking up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to hang out with my girlfriend.” He’s not got that flirty smile like he usually has, and his words have an odd punch to them as he asks, “We are still dating, right? I guess I’m just confused since you’ve been ignoring me.”

I blink at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Wren,” he spits out. “If you wanted to break it off, that’s all you had to say.”

“I-I don’t. I just have a lot going on right now,” I splutter out, trying to busy myself by picking up clothes off my floor and placing the books back on my shelf. His gaze is harsh, and he follows me around the room as I do so.

“What is going on? I told you that pushing me away isn’t going to work on me, remember?” he says, his voice weighty with sincerity.

That catches my attention. I stop what I’m doing and sit at the edge of my bed, and he follows me, but he doesn’t sit down. He just stands in front of me, looking down at me and waiting for an answer.

Then I remember what my mom said.

He’ll get bored of you.

What makes you think that he wants this for real?

Admire, not love.

I shake my head, staring down at my thighs. “You can stop pretending you care about me, and you can go, Miles.” A desperate scoff leaves his mouth, and I shut my eyes. “You don’t have to feel obligated to check in on me.”

“Obligated? What the fuck does that mean?” I shrug, playing with my hands. I feel him step closer to me and his fingers brush my chin. “Wren, baby, look at me.”

I push his hand away. “No. Just go.”

His grip tightens on me, and I can feel my throat burning. I can’t cry. I look up at him and instantly wish I hadn’t. He looks tired. No. Exhausted. He’s got a slight stubble on his chin that wasn’t there a few weeks ago. There’s a hurt in his eyes that I’ve never seen before, and it breaks my heart.

“I’m not leaving when you’re clearly upset,” he says roughly, his thumb rubbing my chin.

“God, I’m not upset. I just don’t want you here right now. I’m not in a good place, Miles, and you’re making it worse,” I say, my temper rising.

He doesn’t back down. “Why?”

“Because you’re driving me crazy!”

“No, why?” he presses, his tone sharp. “Why do you shut people out when they want to help you, Wren? Can’t you see that’s all I’m trying to do? I know that you might be used to it, but you don’t have to do things on your own.”

My lip quivers, and I will myself not to cry. I need him to stop. To stop trying to peel back the layers of me I haven’t had a chance to look at myself. I need him to stop trying to break down walls that I’ve put up for a reason. I know just how bad it hurts when someone leaves or lets me down and it’s going to hurt a thousand times more when it’s him.

“Stop,” I whisper, my voice shaking.

“No, Wren, I won’t stop until you believe what I’m telling you,” he says. He drops to his knees in front of me, and it’s even harder to look at him. He rubs my thighs reassuringly, running his hands up and down as he looks up at me. “How many times do I have to tell you how enthralled I am by your presence? How many times do I have to lay myself bare for you so you can realize that I’m in this for keeps? How many times do I have to embarrass myself to prove that all I want is to spend time with you, find out things about you that no one else does, and just love you?”

My voice cracks as I speak, tears spilling down my cheeks. “You don’t mean that.”

“Who?” His grip on my thighs tightens, and the anger in his voice is unmistakable. “Who is telling you that I don’t mean that, baby?”

“Miles,” I whimper.

“Who is hurting you, princess? Tell me, and I can make it better. Who is making you believe that bullshit?”

I gasp for air, needing it quicker than it can get to me. “No one is hurting me. It’s just— It’s my mom. Austin came back and told her about the pregnancy, and they turned it all on me. I told her about our plan, and she said that you don’t want me, that you’ll get bored of me, and maybe she’s right.”

His jaw ticks. “You believed her?” I nod, and another sob rips through me when he shakes his head, dropping it to my knees. “Jesus Christ, Wren.”

Not looking at him makes it easier to talk, but it still hurts. It’s like the words burn to get out of my mouth, but I know I need to say them. “I thought that shutting you out would help, that it would make what she said feel less real. I thought it would give me more time to focus on my performance, but it just made it worse, and I stopped taking care of myself and pushed you away, and I fucking missed you.”

My voice cracks on the last two words, and his head shoots back up. “Then why didn’t you talk to me?”

“I was scared. I was embarrassed that I let her get into my head, and I couldn’t stomach the idea that she might be right,” I say.

“If you had let me, I would have been there for you.”

I sniffle. “I know.”

“Do you?” His eyes soften as he drinks me in. “Because if you knew that, Wren, you wouldn’t have iced me out. I told you months ago that you’ve got me. That you don’t have to be alone when things get hard. If you had told me, I would have told you a thousand times over that I could watch you just being you and never get bored. I think you’re single-handedly the most brilliant person I have ever met, and I feel lucky to even know you. I am constantly in awe of the person that you are, you know that?”

Trying to think about what he just said makes the weight on my chest finally give way, and it crushes me. I crumble, my entire body shaking with sobs until Miles’s arm wraps around me and he pulls me to the ground with him. I curl myself up so small in his arms, and he holds me like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s anchoring me to reality in the midst of my storm. His warmth seeps into my bones, and for the first time in weeks, I feel a sliver of safety, a promise of solace.

Miles’s hand strokes my hair, his touch gentle yet firm. “Wren, you don’t have to be perfect. Not for me, not for anyone.”

I cling to him, my sobs gradually subsiding into hiccups. “I thought… I thought if I showed you the messy parts of me, you’d leave. That you’d see I’m not worth it.”

“Baby,” he murmurs, the word so soft and smooth I start to hate the nickname less and less. He angles my head toward him, and I struggle to look at him, but I do it anyway. “You, just existing, is enough.”

His words are almost enough to make me break all over again, but I don’t let them. I bade that feeling of belonging welcome home.

“I’m sorry,” I say, “I hate crying.”

He smiles softly. “Why?”

“Because it makes me feel weak. I’m not weak.” I bite the words out and wonder if I’ll ever stop feeling this way. I prefer to keep these emotions inside. Everything has always worked better that way. But maybe they don’t need to.

“You’re the strongest person I know, but crying doesn’t make you weak,” he whispers, brushing my hair out of my face. He lets out a soft chuckle. “I cry all the time.”

That jolts me right in the chest, and I hold him tighter. “I’m sorry for not being there for you. I should have had your back too. I’ve been so caught up in my own shit that I didn’t check in on you, and that’s a real dick move from me. I’m sorry.”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s okay to take time to process your own thoughts.” He taps the side of my head a few times. “Just let me in here sometimes, okay? I want to know what’s going on in there too.”

I scoff. “It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, Miles.”

“I know,” he says, grinning. “You just tell me when you need a minute, for whatever reason, and take time for yourself. I won’t judge you. I just want you to know that I’ve got you.”

I swallow. “You’ve got me?”

“Yeah, I’ve got you, sweet girl. Always.”

He holds me tighter, and in that embrace, I feel the weight of the past few weeks lifting, replaced by the steady, reassuring beat of his heart against mine. The world outside might still be chaotic, but in this moment, with Miles holding me, I know we’ll be okay. We have to be.

For the first time in a long time, I feel seen. I feel valued. And most importantly, I feel loved.